Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > "Be My Detonator."

Chapter Seventeen

by CosmicZombie 29 reviews

Ferocious flocks of rabid unicorns, dangerously pale siblings, and the interesting locations of cat-molesting puff heads...NEW CHAPTER UP, GUYS...PLEASE R&R? :D :D

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Humor,Romance - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way,Ray Toro - Published: 2012-01-14 - Updated: 2012-01-19 - 5043 words

A/N: OH MY MEESE SHIT, 41 REVIEWS?!?!?!?! Thank you all SO much!! I’ve never had so many reviews on a chapter before- you guys fucking made my week :D :D Yeah, so I wanted to update a little sooner than usual because you’re all so amazing :’) Oh, if any of you read Trying To Escape The Inevitable, I updated that yesterday, and the reviews aren’t going through properly- so if you reviewed, if you don’t mind, would you please check that it’s gone through? Sorry :/ Anyway…onwards!! Enjoy the chapter ;)

Chapter Seventeen

In my utterly frazzled, melted mental state, I stupidly, misguidedly thought that my evil younger sibling might actually just fuck the hell off after ruining the best moment of my entire existence.

I even more stupidly thought he might actually twig what was going on and leave me in peace to ravage the painfully sexy, panting, dishevelled guy with lethally tight black skinny jeans sitting tantalisingly close to me in the hair-dye spattered bathtub. Oh god, this is disturbingly similar to one of my deluded little brain cells’ (endless) sick fantasises involving myself, them and their pink knickers, and the possibly multiple dicked sex god in front of me.

Oh dear god, why do those jeans have to be do god damn…tight?!

It’s not fair on my poor little brain cells. They’re breaking down. Like, really breaking down. In fact, it may be time to call the men in the white coats with the strong, strong pills and shock therapy.

Those jeans are really just the last straw… they really emphasise certain assets that really do not help my already hormone overwhelmed body to calm down and my brain cells to return to sanity. Well, not return to sanity as they were never there, but at least to stop melting and breaking down inside my skull.

They’re making a total mess, and I will actually need some left to function- not that they seem to help me to function usually. In fact, they’re usually the source of my clumsiness, stupidity and hormone crazed spontaneity that make me want to kill myself. Clearly, they’re plotting against me. Little fuckers.

Oh, you might want to look somewhere else now, fuckface. Just saying.


Because Frank might think you’re a bit of a creep.

Why would he think that?

Because you’re staring at his crotch.


Oh meesefuck, I am. Mind you, it is rather-

LOOK AWAY, YOU ASSWIPE! And pick your jaw up from the floor, or you’re going to start drooling again. Cause that shit is not pretty. Or alluring. Or in anyway enticing.

“Um,” I stammer, cheeks actually burning as I finally manage to drag my gaze from the lethally tight jeans and close my gaping mouth, horrified to find that it is in fact hanging open.

Thanks a lot there, brain. You’ve managed to make me look like a complete and utter moron once more.

A sly smirk tugs at the corners of Frank’s bruised lips as his gaze sweeps over me in a slow, lingering way on my burning cheeks and matching tight jeans that makes me want to jump on him right now and do things to the dude that would make a pair of horny rabbits trying to rebuild the species look like infertile fossils.

In fact, the urge is so disturbingly strong that, if I did (which is extremely possible) leap on the dishevelled, swollen-lipped guy whose thighs I’m sandwiched between and devour every part of him, I wouldn’t even care that my baby brother would hear everything, on account he is still hovering outside the door.

Oh yeah. I’d forgotten about that.

Of course, Mikey, being the evil, skinny little unicorn fucker he is, still has not fucked off as I would actually give a limb for him to do right now. I mean, it’s not like my limbs are that much help to me anyway- all I do is fall over them.

“G-Gerard?” My brother’s voice is starting to sound a little scared at the unnerving silence in the bathroom, and perhaps it’s finally dawned on his slow, thick-skulled mind that we might like him to get trampled to death by a herd of bloodthirsty meese. Or just piss off and leave us alone so as we can rape each other in peace.

Except I guess it wouldn’t really count as rape.

Oh moose poop, maybe this is actually heaven.

Mikey’s trembling question is met with deadly silence other than the slowly lessening panting from me and the kneecap-combustingly gorgeous guy’s face I just devoured. In fact, I’m surprised you can’t hear my heart pounding out of my chest too; it feels like it’s going to fucking explode. Is it possible for someone of my age to die of a heart attack?

I really hope not- I’d hate to die before getting the chance to do things to my satanic, Barbie doll-like stepsister’s boyfriend that would make her slice me into small, pitiful pieces with her eyelash curlers.

“Gerard?” He definitely sounds scared now.

He should be. If he doesn’t leave me to mercilessly lick to death and savage the face of my stepsister’s boyfriend in this bathtub, I will set a very, very ferocious little flock of rabid, unicorns plagued with unquenchable bloodlust after him. And I can’t imagine that would be the nicest way to die. I mean, those things have horns as well as fangs. Ouch.

“Um, Ray’s on the phone,” Mikey now sounds like he’s not sure whether to vomit up his own intestines or run screaming from the house. Perhaps he’s starting to finally realise what he just interrupted. I can’t really imagine his stomach would be overjoyed if he knew what his older brother had just been doing in the family bathtub.

My blood boils.

Raymond motherfucking, cat-molesting Toro.

My former best friend and fellow misfit.

Until he became a traitorous, ‘fro supporting FUCKFACE and betrayed me by letting my evil stepsister lick his intestines in a most unattractive manner. And if Frank finds out he will almost certainly die of a broken heart, and it’ll all be thanks to my former puff headed sidekick. Well, perhaps he won’t actually die, but I still think Ray deserves to take a trip to the fiery pits of hell.

Then again, if he’s dating Jamie now, I guess there’s a high probability he will.

Anyway, the bottom line of it is that I hate everything about that curly haired traitor, and he deserves to get mown down by the ice cream van, and then have his corpse munched on by his own sexually abused cat.

I mean, the dude snogged my satanic stepsister, and now he’s fucking phoned my fucking house so as my fucking younger brother has to come and fucking ruin the best fucking moment of my whole fucking life.

My brain cells are not happy.

In fact, they’re very, very angry. Their pink little knickers are in a twist. And they’re foaming at the mouths with pure fury.

And let me tell you, that is not a good thing for his life expectancy.


Another shock of anger surges through me at my ex-best friend’s name.

I suddenly find myself stumbling up from where I’m seated so comfortably between Frank’s thighs, staring at the wonderful tightness of his jeans, find I no longer have knees (no doubt due to the amount of tonguing I’ve just shared with the sexiest guy in existence), and fall with a graceful splat to the bathroom floor in one of my most magnificent faceplants. And believe me, there have been a lot to compete with.

“Shit, are you okay, Tumbles?” Frank’s voice sounds hoarse and uneven, which only makes me groan more from where my face has hit the floor, although not exactly from pain. He sounds all ragged and shaky and…is there ANYTHING about him that’s a turn off, or is my mortifying existence well and truly doomed?

It’s doomed.

Thanks for your optimism.

You’re welcome. I aim to please.

No you don’t, you aim to devour my stepsister’s boyfriend.

Same thing.

How is that ‘aiming to please’ him?!

It’s not.

Then you’re just a liar.

It’s aiming to please you, you idiot.

“Umphh,” I groan in response to my infuriating inner insanity, trying to get up and stumbling wildly across the room due to the fact my knees are still somewhere melting down the plughole, and colliding forcibly with the bathroom door as Frank tries, and fails, to get out of the bath.

For the first time ever, he actually seems as clumsy and un-coordinated as me, his hair looking like he’s just been dragged violently through a hedge and then had a black veil brides backcombing, his lips are red and bruised, and I can visibly see him shaking and stumbling, which is a surprisingly big turn on.

Stop thinking about your cock, fuckface.

I wasn’t.

Oh really?


What were you thinking about then?


I facepalm violently just as Frank finally manages to get to his feet, wobbles dangerously, flails, and then he too falls out of the bath in a similarly graceful fashion as me, crashing into the basin and groaning as his cheek collides with the tap.

“Okay, what the actual fuck are you guys doing?” Mikey sounds seriously worried now. “Please, please don’t be fuck-”

“Shut the fuck up, you fucktard,” I hiss angrily through the wood of the door, cutting him off before he can repeat the thing that gives my irritated, hormone crazed little brain cells very, very dangerous images. And makes my cheeks burn like a sunburnt Rudolph the red nosed reindeer’s nose.

“That’s not very nice language,” Mikey says primly, though he sounds vaguely relieved to hear my voice, which must be something that’s never happened before.

Over by the basin, I see Frank smirk slightly, peeling himself off of where he’s landed and rubbing at a rapidly forming red mark on his cheek, shaking his head bemusedly and looking amused.

“F-Fuck you, Mikey,” I stammer, gripping the towel rail beside me so as I don’t suddenly become airborne thanks to my excitable little brain cells, and be flung at Frank without further consideration.

“Gee, Ray’s on the phone and he says he’s going to take my straighteners if I don’t get you to talk to him,” Mikey says irritably. “For fucks sake, it can’t take that long to dye hair.”

There’s an awkward silence during which Frank peers into the mirror and lets out a soft groan at his more than slightly dishevelled reflection.

I can practically feel Mikey blanch on the other side of the door.

“Oh god,” I hear him whispers in horror. “Oh my fucking god. This is going to scar me for life.”

“Um,” is my helpful response. Hey, it’s not my fault- it’s seriously hard to think when Frank’s making noises like that.

“Listen, can you just…stop whatever life destroying stuff you’re doing and come and talk to Ray,” Mikey groans, but not in the same knee melting way as Frank- more in the kind of way that sounds like he wants to claw out his insides in revulsion. It sounds like he also just hit his head off the other side of the door.

“Well you can tell that cat snogging traitor I hate him and I’m never, ever going to speak to him again. He’s a betraying, evil, satanic, puff headed fuckface from hell and I never want to lay eyes on him again,” I spit with such uncharacteristic hatred that Frank looks confusedly at me.

There’s a pause from Mikey’s side of the door, then-

“Ray snogs cats?”

I facepalm. “That’s not the point, Mikey!”

“Oh, sorry- I missed the rest after you said the cat thing.”

“Just tell him I hate him.”

“Ooooh, what’s happened now?”

“None of your motherfucking business.”

“Did he snog Frank?”

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck him to make you jealous?”

“Fuck off.”

“Ask you to have a threesome with his cat?”

“Fuck off.”

“Eat your sketchbook with all those lovely drawings of a certain Mr. Iero?”

“MICHAEL JAMES WAY, FUCK OFF!” I yelp, feeling my cheeks flood crimson and seeing Frank’s familiar sexy smirk creep across his swollen lips from the corner of my eye.

“Jeez.” Mikey huffs crossly. “No need to be so touchy. At least I didn’t mention the way you’ve moaned Frank’s name every night in your sleep since you met him.”

I whack my head against the doorframe. Hard.

“Oh. Ooops…sorry Gee.” Mikey doesn’t sound in the least bit sorry. In fact, I can practically hear him grinning evilly.

Frank’s smirk is wider than ever.

Okay, unless something is done right now, I think I might actually just die right here in my own bathroom.

And really, I can think of better places to be exterminated from existence. Like while being attached to Frank’s lips.

I have no option left now but to do the only thing I know will get Mikey to fuck off well and truly.

I take a deep breath and let out a long, exaggerated groan followed by several breathy sighs that even though I’m intending them to sound dodgy, sound incredibly sexual- even for someone with brain cells like mine living inside my head.

Over by the basin, I hear a loud crash and a ‘Fuck!’ from Frank, and I look up to see that he’s knocked over a whole load of aftershave and mouthwash from the little shelf above the basin. Jeez, perhaps the saliva I transferred to him is actually transforming him into me.

However, his yelp of ‘Fuck!’ is apparently the last straw for my poor little brother; he screams loudly, followed by the sound of scrabbling, frantic footsteps fleeing as far away from the bathroom as possible.

There’s a slightly awkward silence for a second, during which I’m almost certain I can hear Mikey retching from downstairs. Poor little straightener addict.

I suddenly feel very embarrassed at the utterly ridiculous noise I just made in front of the possibly multiple-dicked sex god with swollen lips and tight jeans, breathing slightly unevenly and leaning slightly dazedly against the basin.

Could I actually make any more of an imbecile of myself in front of this dude?

Oh, and don’t even think about accepting that challenge, you little fuckfaces.


Fuck you.

That’s yourself you’re fucking, you freak.

Oh just fuck off.

Frank looks up at me from under his dishevelled mini-mohawk, smirking slightly with heavily dilated pupils and slightly flushed cheeks.

I promptly turn scarlet as the reality hits me.

Oh my fucking moose saliva.

I just snogged that guy.

Ohmymoosepoopingsexuallyabusedcatsandunicornfuckers, I snogged Frank Iero.

“Hey,” he smiles slightly sheepishly at me.

I grapple frantically for the towel rail behind me.

“Uhgjoiwerjp,” I breathe, reverting to my usual language of moronic imbecile, which only seems to make Frank smirk more and let out a slightly shaky sigh that makes me want to throw myself to his feet and start licking his ankles.

Not because I suddenly have the urge to become a dog- he’ just so god damn…Frankable.

We look at each other for a couple more moments, and I feel myself and my perverted little brain cells starting to get reeled in by the intoxicating potency of his attractiveness, of which there really is way too much.

“Uh…I’d better wash this off,” Frank breaks the silence slightly huskily, gesturing to the red dye that’s still on the sides of his head.

“Umphhh, um…c-cool,” I stammer breathily, gripping the towel rail harder as Frank walks over to the bathtub, pulls the shower head down and bends over the bath to start rinsing his hair.

My brain cells are going to combust.

I mean, there’s only so much the poor little munchkins can take in one day, and this really is going to be the last straw for their hormonally unhinged, Frank deluded little minds.

It’s those motherfucking jeans again.

The insanely tight ones. And he’s bending over. With his back to me, which means the little sickos inside my head can stare and drool as much as they want, which will very possibly result in leaping on the dude sooner or later, and knocking him headfirst into the bath with a large splat of hormone crazed Gerard on him.

Those jeans are actually going to kill me.

I would say that they’re my most deadly enemy, but my brain cells love them to bits.



Okay, how long does it take a dude to wash his hair?! If he doesn’t stop bending over or change those jeans, I may actually explode. And I don’t mean he should change the jeans right now, although I can’t imagine my brain cells would be distraught if he did.

Mmmm. Frankiness.

Shut up, you little sick freaks.

My thoughts are suddenly and thankfully interrupted by a soft buzzing in my jeans pocket. Blinking dazedly and reeling my tongue in, I actually manage to drag my vacant gaze away from my stepsister’s boyfriend’s (extremely nice) ass, just long enough to glance at the little screen of my phone.

From: Jamie: If Frank’s with you, you’re going to be very, very sorry that you were ever born, faggot. – J.

Oh dear god, it’s Satan.

The same Satan whose boyfriend I’ve just spent the past hour playing tonsil tennis with, stroking dye into his hair, and licking his face like the perverted freak I am.

Oh my god, she’s going to murder me. With one of those lethal beauty instruments of hers. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, I’m really going to die and get chopped into tiny, pitiful little pieces and I’ll never get to devour a sex god’s face again, because I don’t really think that’s something I could do as a snail. Do they even have lips?

Okay, maybe I should calm the fuck down and stop hyperventilating. I mean, she’s probably just trying to scare me- how would she know he’s actually with me?

See, you were just freaking out over nothing, you moron.

Oh my god, perhaps she’s been watching us.

Oh shit.

What if she’s watching me right now- literally drooling over her boyfriend’s ass with a load of pink knicker freaks inside my head fantasising about his multiple genitalia?!

I drop my phone like it’s burning my hand, which, seeing who the message is from, isn’t exactly surprising. My phone falls to the floor with a clatter and I stagger back against the bathroom door, staring unblinkingly at the phone as if Jamie’s about to explode out of it and castrate me.

Frank shuts off the shower and looks round at the little clatter and my terrified gasp, hair damp and even more sexy than usual, which is just not even fair, especially right now when I’m practically on my deathbed.

“Okay there?” He smirks, as if he knows perfectly well it’s his fault I’ve been reduced to a quivering, flushed mess staring at my phone on the floor as if it’s going to eat me.

Where are the men with the large nets and white coats when you need them?!


Frank smirks more widely, towelling his hair dry and hitching up his jeans.

“Upoooooefgh,” I melt, stumbling against the door and crashing down to the tiled floor as my knees give way completely at his cheeky grin.

“Hey, careful there, Tumbles,” Frank says softly, chucking his towel over his shoulder, coming over and offering me a soft, guitar-callused hand to help me up.

I look at it for a moment, wondering if I take it I’ll explode or not.

I decide to take the chance.

“Up you come,” Frank grins, steadying me slightly as I wobble dangerously and grapple for something, anything to hold onto.

He’s suddenly very, very close; I can see every swirl and fleck of green in his russety eyes, the little hole for his lip ring, the damp tendrils of freshly washed hair tumbling over his arched eyebrows and his still vaguely swollen lips.

I stumble back against the door, partly to get away from the glaring screen of my mobile where The Bitch from Hell’s text is still visible, but also partly because I need something to lean against to remain upright.

“You’re so god damn adorable when you’re clumsy,” Frank whispers, smirking softly; his nose literally an inch from mine.

Okay. Don’t freak out. Breathe. You don’t need to ravage him.

Yes, we do.

I’m about to argue back when Frank lets out a soft, breathy sigh against my lips, and I can almost taste the mangoes, tobacco and sunshine on him, almost feel the silky soft recklessness of his lips…

My heart suddenly seems to be considering a career as an Olympic runner.

My knees, however, seem to think death is a better option.

I’m also finding it suddenly very, very hard to breathe properly, as I look up into Frank’s scarlet-rimmed russet eyes that are blazing and dilated as we just stare at each other for what feels like eternity and no time at all, the air between us charged, my heart practically whirring in my chest, little butterflies of adrenaline fluttering wildly in my stomach.

I have been possessed by my brain cells at this point, and can’t seem to stop myself tentatively reaching up and trailing my fingers up the tantalizingly soft flesh of Frank’s jugular.

In response, he slams me up against the wall behind us, and crashes his lips fiercely into mine.

My stomach flips inside out and my heart is beating so violently it feels like it’s going to explode right out of my chest as I snake my arms round his waist and crush him against me, making him groan softly into my mouth.

It’s a seriously fucking good thing I’m actually crushed between his body and the wall, or I would be a pathetic pile of mush on the floor at this point.

His lips are meshing furiously, frantically with mine, his hands tangling in my hair, tugging relentlessly as I dig my nails into the muscles of his back, tongue licking tentatively at the corners of his lips.

That kind of seems to cause an explosion; I’m suddenly pressed so hard against the wall I think I might become part of it, and Frank’s gasping against the warm flesh of my neck, sucking and nibbling erratically at my jugular and actually making my eyes roll up inside my skull.

I also make that embarrassing purr/groan noise again, but at this juncture, I really don’t care. Everything has left my mind- my moronic lack of co-ordination, my demonic stepsister, my evil brother…

Finally, Frank’s lips find mine once more and he crushes furiously against me as our lips mesh desperately together. I can feel every bone and curve of him pressed into me, and that alone is enough to drive me crazy, let alone the way his hands are gripping feverishly at my spine and his tongue is devouring my mouth.

We pull apart momentarily, gasping for shuddery breaths of the charged air between us, the room silent other than our uneven breaths against each other’s swollen lips. The tension between us is almost like electricity and water; utterly lethal, but unexplainably tempting, building and building until it tingles all over my skin and accelerates my heartbeat to a ridiculous level.

Frank’s pupils are crazily dilated, his hair a mess, his lips red and swollen as he stares at me for a second in the electrified atmosphere, and then we’re suddenly slamming together again, feverish and frantic, smashing into the wall behind us with such a force I can feel my back bruising.

Our lips are working harder and faster as my stomach flips and somersaults and flutters, and turns wonderfully inside out with pleasure and adrenaline as Frank’s hands slide under the waistband of my jeans, his skin beautifully warm and callused against mine.

My breath hitches in my throat and my heart just about stops as his hand dips lower still and his lips tangle even more fiercely with mine, fingers insanely tantalizing and devastating.

I feel as if I’m actually about to spontaneously combust as he starts to move his fingers teasingly, simultaneously licking his devious way into my mouth and making me groan helplessly into his recklessly soft lips, totally lost in a world of hormones and pure Frank.

“GERARD!!” Mikey’s voice shatters our silence suddenly, accompanied with a loud pounding on the door beside us.

Frank stops kissing me, but doesn’t move from where he is, leaving his warm lips lingering temptingly on mine as he breathes shakily into my mouth and I hang onto his hair for dear life.

“GERARD, IF YOU GUYS ARE FUCKING, I’D REALLY ADVISE YOU TO STOP!!” Mikey yells through the wood of the bathroom door. “JAMIE’S COMING DOWN THE ROAD!”

Frank’s hand shoots out of my jeans and I jerk backwards, bashing my head against the wall painfully as my eyes widen in horror.

“Um, yeah,” Mikey’s voice mumbles. “I just thought I’d warn you. Uh…bye. It was nice knowing you guys.” We hear his footsteps going back down the stairs.

I look up fearfully at Frank, whose eyes are wide and troubled behind his dishevelled hair as his chest rises and falls unevenly.

“Um,” I gasp, rubbing the back of my head where a lump is fast forming.

“Oh fuck,” Frank says raggedly, raking a shaky hand through his reckless hair and looking at me.

There’s silence for a moment.

“I probably shouldn’t have done this, should I?” Frank murmurs, smiling a little sheepishly at me as he attempts to tame his hair and smooth his shirt.

I shake my head, heart sinking horribly.

“Hey,” He says softly, obviously seeing my despair. He leans forward, lips brushing my neck gently. “I’m glad I did, though,” He whispers into the shell of my ear.

I small smile tickles the corners of my lips as he pulls back and smoothes my hair for me, smiling softly at my glazed, awestruck expression.

Then it hits me.

Satan. Coming down the road. Here, in like, a minute- if that.

“Holy fuck, she’s going to castrate me!” I yelp in horror suddenly, trying to compose myself hurriedly.

Frank bites his lip. “Oh. Yeah. Oops. Um….maybe I’d better get going.”

I nod, heart pounding fearfully as I unlock the bathroom door and we both stumble out, along the landing and down the stairs to the hallway where we bump into Mikey coming out of the kitchen.

He takes one look at our swollen lips, flushed cheeks, dishevelled hair and overly tight jeans, and pales horribly.

“Oh god,” He groans. “I’m gunna puke.”

Frank throws him an apologetic shrug, and I just blush madly as I catch sight of myself in the hall mirror and realise that I have at least six large, furiously purple love bites decorating my neck. Shit.

I poke one tentatively, as if doing so will perhaps erase it, and Frank grins.

“Guys, I don’t even want to look at you right now, because if I do, I’ll have to run to the bathroom to throw up, and I don’t want to go in there for a very, very long time after what you two have just done,” Mikey says through gritted teeth, staring determinedly at the carpet and clutching his coffee mug for comfort. “But Frank, you really might want to leave like, now, if you want to avoid Jamie.”

“Oh shit…Thanks,” Frank throws Mikey a quick smile of appreciation, and dashes for the front door.

I follow as quickly as I can without catapulting myself over anything, grab the keys from the hall table and fumble with the lock.

Finally, the door swings open.

But instead of legging it as fast as he can, Frank suddenly freezes to the spot in the soft golden sunset light seeping through the open doorway.

I look up, wondering why the fuck he isn’t moving so that Jamie won’t come and castrate us both, and my jaw falls open in shocked horror.

She’s already on the doorstep.

But she’s not alone.

There is something with a lot of puffy hair attached to her face.

Mwhahaha, cliffhanger xD Likey? No Likey? Let me know :P I had fun writing this chapter, I have to say, although I feel kind of sorry for Mikey…hope the making out-ness of it was okay- I’m still not that confident about that aspect of my writing, let me know your thoughts (: Thanks so much for reading, and thank you again for all your amazing support!! Please R&R and tell me your favourite bit if you have time (and if you even had a favourite bit :L)…I’ll update as soon as I can so as you can find out what’s gunna happen xP Love all you crazy people!!
[*CosmicZombie xo
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