Frank doesn't think anything of it when Gerard paints FAGGOT on his neck. It's a little more provocative than usual, but Gerard is always talking about pushing boundaries and making people re-examine their understanding of sexuality and personality, so Frank tells himself it's nothing to do with him. He's been trying not to be obvious with his ogling; he doesn't want to cause a problem. Gerard's handled the breakup with Eliza fairly well, but no one wants to see any backsliding.
He wonders if he maybe imagines Gee's sideways glance and hopeful, waiting air, but he doesn't say anything, just goes through his normal pre-show routine, so Frank laughs and jokes and goes along with the normal bumping, humping, and leaning they do, and nobody notices anything different.
Catholic. We're Still Alive. Gazelles. (Frank doesn't ask; he's pretty sure he doesn't want to know. Eventually Mikey'll rejoin them and he'll probably get Gerard to write - or draw - unicorns, and that's just. No.) Careful. 605. Fairy.
Then Gerard cycles back to FAGGOT. And this time, Frank knows he's fucking with him, because it isn't just the word. Gerard pairs it with the black on black and the tie, and that's just cruel. Gerard is well aware of Frank's kink for vests and ties.
Frank stays on his side of the stage all night, playing to Matt, yelling at the kids in the pit, jamming with Ray, ignoring the way Gerard is moving, pale skin flashing in the lights, the word branded on his neck. They've reached the end of their set, and Frank is thanking every god he knows that Linkin Park are up next and he can go find a shower, a bathroom stall, anywhere to be alone for a few minutes, when Gerard does this thing with the mic cord, and it's a really good thing that Frank could play his part of the intro to Famous Last Words in his sleep, because Holy. Shit.
Frank turns away, curves toward an amp and plays to it, tries to just get through the last of the set. He should know, though, that it's never ever ever a good idea to turn his back on the Way brothers. That's like an invitation to those fuckers. Or at least it is to Gerard, who prowls over and drapes himself over Frank's back and whisper-sings the vocals-only part of the song directly into Frank's ear and the microphone. And that is just. It. He's only got so much control.
The song ends and they take their bows. Frank throws his pick into the roaring crowd, Bob tosses his sticks, and they all wave at the kids, and then Frank's got his hand clamped around Gerard's wrist, tugging him off the stage and to the rear of the amphitheater. He hears Ray calling after them and growls something, he has no idea what. He doesn't stop until he's found an empty room backstage, just shoves Gerard in and slams the door behind him.
Now that they're here, Frank's uncertain. He knows what he wants to do. He also knows it's a bad BAD idea, and he's not at all clear what Gerard was expecting. But Gee leans back on the wall next to the door and reaches up to toy with his tie, tilting his head a little bit, and Frank realizes that if - when, because he's absolutely going to - he leans up and tastes the sweaty, smeared word on his skin, Gee will be getting exactly what he's been asking for all night.
no subject
He wonders if he maybe imagines Gee's sideways glance and hopeful, waiting air, but he doesn't say anything, just goes through his normal pre-show routine, so Frank laughs and jokes and goes along with the normal bumping, humping, and leaning they do, and nobody notices anything different.
Catholic. We're Still Alive. Gazelles. (Frank doesn't ask; he's pretty sure he doesn't want to know. Eventually Mikey'll rejoin them and he'll probably get Gerard to write - or draw - unicorns, and that's just. No.) Careful. 605. Fairy.
Then Gerard cycles back to FAGGOT. And this time, Frank knows he's fucking with him, because it isn't just the word. Gerard pairs it with the black on black and the tie, and that's just cruel. Gerard is well aware of Frank's kink for vests and ties.
Frank stays on his side of the stage all night, playing to Matt, yelling at the kids in the pit, jamming with Ray, ignoring the way Gerard is moving, pale skin flashing in the lights, the word branded on his neck. They've reached the end of their set, and Frank is thanking every god he knows that Linkin Park are up next and he can go find a shower, a bathroom stall, anywhere to be alone for a few minutes, when Gerard does this thing with the mic cord, and it's a really good thing that Frank could play his part of the intro to Famous Last Words in his sleep, because Holy. Shit.
Frank turns away, curves toward an amp and plays to it, tries to just get through the last of the set. He should know, though, that it's never ever ever a good idea to turn his back on the Way brothers. That's like an invitation to those fuckers. Or at least it is to Gerard, who prowls over and drapes himself over Frank's back and whisper-sings the vocals-only part of the song directly into Frank's ear and the microphone. And that is just. It. He's only got so much control.
The song ends and they take their bows. Frank throws his pick into the roaring crowd, Bob tosses his sticks, and they all wave at the kids, and then Frank's got his hand clamped around Gerard's wrist, tugging him off the stage and to the rear of the amphitheater. He hears Ray calling after them and growls something, he has no idea what. He doesn't stop until he's found an empty room backstage, just shoves Gerard in and slams the door behind him.
Now that they're here, Frank's uncertain. He knows what he wants to do. He also knows it's a bad BAD idea, and he's not at all clear what Gerard was expecting. But Gee leans back on the wall next to the door and reaches up to toy with his tie, tilting his head a little bit, and Frank realizes that if - when, because he's absolutely going to - he leans up and tastes the sweaty, smeared word on his skin, Gee will be getting exactly what he's been asking for all night.