Who: Frank and Gerard
Where: New Jersey
When: Backdated to the end of December
Frank's place is so much closer to the Barnes & Noble that Gerard has just started going there instead of taking the bus. Frank works from home and Ray's almost always out, so it's nice to just spend time alone with him, before either Mikey comes by to pick him up or Ray comes home so Frank can use the car to take him home. It's been a pretty regular thing for the last few weeks - almost a month, and Jesus, when did that happen? - and he has a copy of Frank's key, so when he opens the front door it's to an empty apartment. Except... Not.
Gerard walks through the front room suspiciously, taking in the stone things - unless they decided to replace the microwave with a block of granite, Ray's hollow body with a stone replica with busted strings - as he follows the sound of buzzers to the bathroom door. He knocks, gently, and has to swallow before he can say, voice worried and high, "Frank? Are you- Are you okay?"
Frank uses his toes to hook the door open, keeping his eyes carefully turned away from Gerard's. "No, I'm not fuckin' okay." He's got half his head shaved down to maybe a quarter of an inch, leaving it long and in his eyes in the front. "I've had a bad fuckin' day, in case you can't see. And Ray's going to kill me." And just on chance, because he might be feeling a little better, a little relieved that Gerard's here, he looks him in the face. "I don't know how to turn them back."
When Gerard opens his eyes it doesn't feel like any time has passed, but Frank's not standing where he was, and when he blinks and moves he feels... Stiff, all over. He reaches up, rubbing at his neck with one hand, and cranes his head to try and see Frank, figure out where he went. "Frank, Frank- Did I nod off, or something? It's kinda- I must be colder than I thought, or something."
The relief on Frank's face is stunning, all wide eyes and parted lips, and he's touching Gerard, on his face, his chest, and he stutters out, "Oh sweet mercyfuck. I thought I'd killed you. I didn't mean to, I promise. Holy shit, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He circles around Gerard, rubbing his hands down his back, making sure he's breathing, he's alive. That he's warm and safe, and okay. "I've had a really shitty day, and- I thought looking at you would be okay, and apparently not, and-" And he's facing Gerard again, hands firm on the slight give of Gee's love handles, up on his toes, kissing him.
It's all so much to process, the increasing laxity of his muscles, the rapidfire of Frank's words, the way he's touching him, that Gerard barely has a chance to stiffen and gasp before Frank's kissing him again, holding him close, and their mouths are pressed together. He opens his mouth a little, whether to say something or kiss Frank, he's not quite sure. He puts his hands hesitantly on Frank's ribs, rubbing gently, and when he moves their mouths apart it's to ask a question, his eyes wide and still more than a little confused, not entirely sure what's going on. "Wait- Did. Did you, like. Turn me to stone? Seriously?"
"Yeah," Frank answers, miserably. "Yeah, I did." And he realizes he's looking at Gerard again, looking at him, right in the face, and drops his eyes. "I'm sorry." Muttered, hands restless on Gerard's waist, on the small of his back. "C'mon, you're probably cold. Can- can I at least-?" Get you to bed? Do something? Get you some hot water? Anything? "How trashed is Ray's guitar? No, no. I'll check after. Come on." Frank ushers Gerard into his bedroom, leaning down to tug the blankets back. "Here. Fuck. I'm so sorry."
Gerard starts to climb into the bed before jerking to a stop, making a face at himself. He sits on the edge of the bed and starts to pull off his shoes, his cheeks pink over the scarf wrapped securely around his throat. "I think- I think I should, um. Probably take some clothes off, first. I feel- I feel kinda weird. Heavy, you know?" Not that he thinks that there's anything still wrong with him, but he kind of- He'd just like to be sure that all of him is there, before he goes to bed all peaceful-like. "Is that okay?"
Frank's breathing's finally starting to slow, from the near-hyperventilation of crushing panic that started when he saw Gerard's beautiful eyes go cold and grey. "Yeah. You do what you need to. I- I can help, if you want." I just want to touch you. I want to make sure you're okay. I want to know I didn't hurt you.
"Could you?" Gerard looks up at Frank with wide eyes, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he kicks off his sneakers and clumsily starts pulling his big wool socks off, his fingers still feeling shaky and not- Not cold, but oddly leaden. Like they haven't quite remembered how to be fingers yet. "I feel all weird."
"Yeah." Frank drops his eyes again, to where his own fingers touch at Gerard's hands, then pull at his socks. "That's because you were, uh. Stone. For almost twenty minutes." His hands fall and he looks away, not near a mirror, or Gerard's face, or anywhere that could hurt him. "I'm sorry." It sounds like begging. "I'm so fuckin' sorry." But his hands move knowingly where his brain hasn't quite gone yet, tugging at the zipper of Gerard's hoodie, pushing it from his shoulders. Feeling the dense of muscle beneath, of pure, solid strength. "Are you okay?"
Gerard nods carefully as he twists, helping Frank to get his jacket and hoodie off his sloped shoulders as best he can. He pushes the pile of clothes off the bed entirely before putting his fingers on his belt and making a soft, frustrated noise, looking down at the worn leather with a frustrated quirk between his brows. "I- I think so. Or I will be. I just. Help?" And when he looks back up at Frank his eyes are wide, full of pleading, and his lower lip is caught so-slightly between his teeth. "I just- I wanna go to sleep for a while, you know?"
Frank's eyes are just as wide, as much pleading as Gerard's own. "Yeah, yeah. Of course." His fingers work at Gerard's belt, not even realizing this is the first time he's seen Gerard undressed, or wearing less than eighty-six-bazillion layers, and- he likes it. He likes the fact that Gerard trusts him enough to help. Even though Frank all but knocked him cold with the petrification, and it's no wonder Gerard wants to make sure he's all in once piece, and go to bed.
...at least he didn't leave.
Between the two of them - Frank's hands steady but uncertain and Gerard's shaky but sure - they manage to make pretty quick work of Gerard's sweater-vest and t-shirt and long sleeved thermal shirt, pulling them all off in one mass, and his long thermal underwear and cotton socks follow easily. He's left in a thin white undershirt and a pair of black Hanes boxer-briefs, shivering a little in the warm air as he stumbles slightly and sits down on the bed. "I should- Um." He means to say sleep, he really does, but when he looks up at Frank his words get all tangled up in his throat and his lip tucks under again, and when he speaks again he sounds worried, fragile and so much younger than he is (almost as young as he looks). "Am I- Does everything look alright to you?"
It's only after v-e-r-y careful inspection, fingers feather-light on Gerard's skin, over the thin cotton of his beater and shorts, shuffling around the bed to get at Gerard from all angles, that Frank replies. "Yeah. You- you look fuckin' perfect." From there, it's easy to kiss the back of Gerard's neck, the side, the join of neck to shoulder. "I'm sorry." Bracketing Gerard's ribs with his fingers, dragging thumbs side-by-side down the line of Gerard's back. His words aren't much more than breath and movement of lips on the back of Gerard's shoulder. "You feel... perfect."
The kisses were one thing, but when Frank drags his hands down Gerard's back he shivers, dragging in a soft, almost disbelieving breath as his fingers clench on the soft of his thighs. "Fuck." He turns his head a little, trying to see Frank, to figure out what the fuck he just did, that makes his entire body tingle, fingers and toes buzzing with it, but he can't make himself move away from the brush of his lips. "What'd you do?"
"Just rubbing your back." And Frank does, as good as his word, pressing his thumbs into the line of Gerard's spine, trying to work out the stiffness that might be left from being, well. Stone. "Is it okay? Does it hurt?" He's as close as he can get without his hands being uncomfortable, giving Gerard as much of his heat as he can. "Are you too cold? What do you need?"
"Not- Not cold." Gerard's still shivering, though, rubbing his palms against the tops of his thighs as he shifts his hips, unfamiliar with the rush of warmth that's sluicing through him, pooling in his guts and pressing like a hot water bottle, dense and warm. He shrugs his shoulders, back twisting in a distinctly unnatural way as he takes a breath and murmurs, husky and low. "Don't stop doin' that?"
But one of Frank's hands slides around to press against Gerard's stomach, reassuring, and he drags curled knuckles against the small of Gerard's back. "Are you okay? You're- you're shivering, a lot." Gerard can feel the brush of Frank's hair against his neck, and Frank says, apropos nothing, "You're really fucking beautiful, did you know that?"
Gerard tries to make a soft sound of disagreement - not me, you must be seeing something that isn't there - when Frank presses his knuckles against the small of his back and he starts a little, the groan wrenched from his lips low and full of quiet, startled heat. "Unh- Nnh?" He blinks, eyes heavy-lidded, and his stomach is tense under Frank's hand, dense muscle only just barely overlaid by soft pudge, and tries to look over his shoulder at Frank, his pale cheek flushed and his voice unsteady. "'m what?"
"You're beautiful," Frank repeats, mouthing gently at the join of Gerard's neck and shoulder, exploring smooth skin and heavy muscle, and while the hand on Gerard's back keeps up the steady knead and pressure, the other drops down just below Gerard's navel. "I thought I fuckin' killed you." His voice drops to a shamed whisper, barely discernible against the open press of Frank's lips, damp and warm and unintentionally wanting, needing to be reassured.
"I'm not- I'm not dead." And maybe Gerard doesn't sound as certain as he could, there, but he's still shivering under Frank's hands, his head tilted slightly to the side as he wets his lips and stumbles out. "I'm definitely not dead. It just- It just feels... weird." He squeezes his eyes closed and takes a soft breath, swallowing thickly as he ducks his head and tries to keep breathing steadily against the unconscious arch of his back and careful, uncertain twist of his hips. "I- I. Mmmh."
"Which is a huge fuckin' relief." Frank's laugh is soft, tongue tasting the unfamiliar stretch of Gerard's skin. "I finally-" -found someone that I actually give a shit about, that I want to spend time with in the not-360-and-guitars kind of way "-I just don't want to hurt you. Or do that, ever-fucking-again." There's something in the way Gerard moves against him that makes Frank's kisses slow and contemplative, and he moves around on the bed until he and Gerard are facing each other. "Easier to kiss you, this way. And keep you warm."
Gerard makes a soft unhappy sound as Frank moves, looking up at him as he twists his hips again and makes a helpless little face, almost-pained and nervous. He arches his back, his own hands curling meekly at Frank's waist, and when he wets his lips it's to offer Frank a tiny little smile, tense and tight against the ache in his gut. "'d you- 'd you wanna kiss me? Really?"
When Gerard arches, Frank gets his hand behind his back again, tugging Gerard firmly against him, pressing lip to lip, pressing him back onto the bed, pressing hips together. "I always wanna kiss you. It's so dumb." His breath catches against the line of Gerard's jaw, and Frank tips his head up to close the gap between them again, breathing words into Gerard's mouth. "I don't even know. You just." He cards his fingers through Gerard's hair, pulling gently at his bottom lip before losing himself against Gerard, open-kissed and without tongue. Just- just because Frank thinks Gerard's uncomfortable with it.
The weight of Frank's body pushes Gerard's into the bed, startling a soft gasp from his lips. He arches sinuously up under Frank, bringing his hips up against the press of his body (only half-realizing what the so-hard press of Frank against his hip means, reacting to it more on instinct than intent) before he jerks a little, pressing a weak kiss to the plush of Frank's lower lip, and tries to edge his hips back, away. Something. "Frank, Frank. I-" It feels weird, it kinda hurts, and I think I'm gonna- I don't even know.
"You okay?" It's something Frank constantly needs to know, when Gerard doesn't exactly react the same way that Frank's used to, sleeping at the drop of a dime, coiling around Frank fierce and almost-protective if they're out together, the slight sibilance of his speech, and his, er, curious eating habits. He rolls his hips down and flicks his tongue against the line of Gerard's lips before closing their kiss. I just want you to want it, too.
"Nngh-" The noise Gerard makes against Frank's lips is at least as much discomfort as it is pleasure when he pushes his hips back into the bed, his face crunching up as he hisses for breath. After a moment's spine-arching uncertainty his hands slip down, against Frank's hips, and push him back, holding him steady a few inches away from Gerard's body as he shudders and groans, low and rushed. "Fuck." He has to take a breath, then another, before he can release his hold on Frank's body - careful, if maybe a little too tight for comfort - and when Frank settles up against him he can't help the break of his breathing any more than he can the unsteady jerk of his hips. "Jesus."
Now Frank feels something, feels the arch of Gerard against his thigh, and flicks out a smile against his cheek. "Hang on." Moving away from Gerard, down his body, gently holding Gee's hips still as he mouths at the outside of his shorts, groaning low in his throat. "Can I blow you?" Bringing a hand in to cup against the arch of Gerard, hot (surprisingly so, when Gerard always seems to be so cold), to press gently as he licks dry and cottony over fabric.
Gerard can't really reply right away, because he's too busy twisting on the bed and gasping for air, his lips parted and his face flushed. It's hard for him to pinpoint where the sensations are coming from, they're so intense, like Frank's touching him everywhere and nowhere all at once, and it makes him feel a little like he might fall apart, or cry. Or maybe even die. "Can- Can... What?"
Maybe it's easier to show Gerard rather than tell him, as Frank hooks his fingers into Gee's shorts, tugging them down just enough that they're not in the way anymore. And the thought barely registers - It's different, but why wouldn't it be? - before he's got his lips pressed to the head of Gerard's cock, tongue laving over it in a slow swipe.
The drag of Frank's taste buds against his sensitive skin - the warm wet of his lips, closing around him, and it's more that the press of Frank's hands on his hips reminds him not to move, rather than actually holds him down - is maybe unintentionally teasing, but it doesn't really matter, because this is all new to Gerard. It's new and it's good, maybe too good, definitely too much, only he doesn't realize, doesn't know that he shouldn't twist into the press of the bed as he shivers, his breath coming hot and fast on his lips as he gasps and clenches his jaw, squeezes his eyes closed- And comes.
It's- it's different than what Frank's used to (not that he's got huge experience in blowing other guys, but still), thinner, more salt-metallic than the odd-bleach taste, but he swallows, licking the come from Gerard's skin with a low, satisfied sound. "Okay, a blowjob is kind of like that, but." Frank edges Gerard's shorts back up, cupping him gently through the fabric, and moves up next to Gee again. "Was it okay?"
Gerard makes a soft sound, an incoherent little mumble, as he nods and reaches out for Frank, his hands trembling the slightest bit as he pulls Frank's body down against his. "Mmm," he adds, like that makes any more sense, and turns his face against Frank's as he threads his fingers through the warm soft of his hair, arching his hips into the gentle touch of Frank's fingers with a soft, frustrated sound. "God."
Frank echoes the noise as he presses up against Gerard's hip, feeling like he's pitching a tent big enough for fucking PT Barnum to put on a show, under. "Is that- does that feel good?" He palms down over Gerard again, firmer, for some kind of reaction, licking at Gerard's lips with little more than a flick of tongue before taking in the taste of Gee's mouth. "I could keep going if you wanted..." Despite the rolling heat in his guts, sick and hot and throbbing, and so good.
"Mmm. Yeah." Gerard licks almost shyly at Frank's tongue as they kiss, not quite sure what he can do but feeling the need to do something as he writhes up under and against Frank with an emphatic little noise and a brief clutch at his hair. He curls his ankle around Frank's calf, rubbing up against the press of his hand, and nods unsteadily as he whispers, tipping his nose up against Frank's lingeringly, "I- Yeah. Yeah, Frank. Please."
But when Frank edges his hand below the fabric of Gee's shorts, he frowns, fingertips ghost-light on his skin. Totally feels different. Almost like if he touches too hard (or the way he touches himself), that Gerard would be too fragile to handle that.
Gerard watches Frank with a slightly confused face, shivering and hissing slightly against the hot-scratchy rasp of Frank's callused, rough palm against his sensitive skin. But then Frank pulls away, mumbling "Hang on," and Gerard just nods dumbly.
Frank rolls away to fumble an almost-empty tube of lube out of his bedside drawer. "Here." He spreads some onto his palm, letting it warm before fisting around Gerard's dick properly, stroking him warm-palmed and slick.
And that is good. Better than good, maybe, enough to make Gerard groan and shudder as he curls his leg around Frank's again, twisting up against him as his face scrunches up. "Fuck," he rasps, voice breathy as he carefully palms against Frank's ribs, rubbing at them almost caressingly, trying to find some kind of anchor, to balance out the jittery, unsteady feeling that Frank's hand around him gives him. "Frank? Frank. You're. You- Just. Fuck."
Frank doesn't know what he is, what Gerard's trying to say, but he finds his hips move at the same pace his hand does, rubbing unthinkingly against Gerard's leg as he kisses at the words on Gerard's lips, liking how his name sounds paired up with the word 'fuck'. "Christ, Gerard. You'd think-" You've never done this before. It's a good thing that for once Frank's brain manages to cut his mouth off at the pass (and maybe it's because he's missing almost half a head of hair, but that's beside the point). Maybe Gerard hasn't. Maybe Frank's the first. And maybe that thought scares him, more than a little bit, and he slows his stroke to something almost excruciatingly slick and good.
The noise that Gerard makes - through tiny, gritted teeth - is sibilant and soft, hissed out not-words of encouragement and frustration as he writhes up against Frank's body. He curls around Frank as much as his longer limbs will allow, breathing in short fits and starts, and rubs his face against the line of Frank's jaw as he slips his hand under Frank's t-shirt, his fingers cold against the warmth of Frank's skin. "What?" He has to take a deep, shaky breath before he can pull his eyes open, ask in a slightly dazed tone, "You'd think what, Frank?"
"Nothin'." Frank's nearly shivering with his own want, fuel-pushed by the arch and twist of Gerard against him, around him. "Just that I'd do this as long as you'd let me." And it's not long before his own hips catch up with his hand again, press-grinding against Gerard with tight little sounds, until Frank finds Gerard's mouth again, kissing him hot and open as he squeezes at the head of Gerard's cock. It's beautiful, he wants to say. It's beautiful and different and just. Just right for you.
Gerard kisses Frank back, groaning softly against the slick of his lips, eyes heavy-lidded and breath coming fast for him, but still deep, slow. "Mmh, Frank-" His voice pitches high, his hips rolling into the tight and warmth of Frank's hand around him as he pushes his palm flat against the small of Frank's back and licks shyly into the warmth of Frank's mouth, trying to get closer to him without doing anything wrong. "Fuck, Frank."
"Mmh." Either Frank's going to end up having to change his shorts, or Gerard's going to have to come soon, so Frank can make his escape to the bathroom. To Gerard's tongue, Frank tastes like coffee, like the fake-cheese and aubergine he'd had for dinner before the world went to hell (and stone), like the cigarette he'd hyperventilated-smoked while Gerard stood like a pillar before him. But now he's alive, warm and moving against Frank in ways that make Frank's guts lurch alarmingly, making it hard to remember that he's 26, not 16, and it shouldn't feel like this.
But Gerard has no idea how it's supposed to feel, how he should react. No idea if it's okay, the way he tips his head back and whimpers, his face crunching up in an expression of pleasure as he gentles his hands against Frank's sides, clutching at him carefully. He just knows that it feels good, better than good, and he wants Frank closer, wants to feel the warmth of his skin. Wants to not stop, not even as his hips find a sinuous, steady twist and arch up against the slick of Frank's hand that has him gasping. "Fuck."
"It's good," Frank husks, not a question, but a statement on both of their behalves, almost close enough that moving his hand is uncomfortable, but not daring to move away. "Shirt," is his next request, putting his free hand over Gerard's, with the warm and wear of fabric between them. "Take't off." It's not like Gee can do it by himself, not when he's gasping and groaning, and Frank helps as much as he can, until he's laid out, warm-skinned and tattooed, turning their bodies until Gerard's on top and Frank's palm is trapped between them. "Was- was it this?" Kissing hotly at the point of Gerard's chin as he presses the heel of his other hand down Gerard's spine. "It was, wasn't it?"
Gerard is too busy arching up, body tense and shivering, to answer with more than a low, breathy groan. His hips buck, a little, pressing Frank's hand back against his own stomach as Gerard clutches at the bedding, his head tipped back and his eyes scrunched closed as he pants hotly. "Unh. Nnh? Gh-" God, I think I'm gonna-
"Yeah," Frank smiles, pressing again, all pressure against the small of Gerard's back, and bites his lip as he grinds up against Gerard with a sound that matches Gerard's own, soft and held-back. "Just let it-" And just like that, he's distracted with the texture of Gerard's skin, almost invisibly-freckled, under his mouth. Frank twists his hand so his fingers touch at the base of Gerard's cock, and his frown isn't of disgust, but of concentration, memorizing this part of Gerard that he's never touched before. "What happens if I do this?" Pressing his fingertips against - the slit? the... something? - where Gerard's cock has come out of.
"Nnnh- Uh. Uh." Gerard's attempt at explaining that he doesn't know, that he's trying his best and he doesn't know what to do, how he'll react, falls apart when Frank pushes at him, fingers warm-hot-too-much as they dip into the tight and slick of his body. He shudders, shakes under the press of Frank's hand, and jerks his hips back just a bare second before his cock twitches and he comes, again, with a strangled wheeze, his hands careful and tense against Frank's shoulders. "Fuck."
Once Gerard settles against Frank again, once his hand is carefully still, both on Gerard's cock and on his back, Frank kisses delicately at one of Gerard's hands, then the other, and mutters blurrily, "I'll be right back, okay?" It's right there, he can fucking taste it (or maybe that's just the remnant-shadow of Gerard on his tongue, and the thought of that makes Frank's guts lurch alarmingly again), feel it burn when he moves. It's not as if Frank doesn't want to ask Gerard, but- but maybe it's that he's afraid to. That Gerard's not ready for it. Maybe he wasn't even ready for this, but Frank went ahead anyway.
Gerard doesn't want to let Frank go, to give up the warmth of his body. Especially not when he's all flushed himself, feeling slightly shaky and wrung-out by the intensity of what he'd felt. He groans again, softly, and lets his hands slip from Frank's shoulders to rest his forearms against the bed, his face a little red as he twists his hips back, away from the careful cradle of Frank's hand, and nuzzles his nose up against the underside of Frank's jaw as he mumbles softly, almost whining. "I don't want you to go."
"Okay." Because when Gerard touches him like that, sounds like that, Frank can't say no. "Okay. I'll stay." But he's still trying to move his hips away, to try not to feel the weight and strength of Gerard against him, or against the almost-painful ache in his groin. I want it so bad. Fuck. Ugh, Frank, grow up. It's not like you've never had blue balls before. Deal with it, princess. So he brushes Gerard's hair back from his face, and asks, "Do you want to cover up?"
"Huh?" Gerard wrinkles his nose a little as he leans into the touch of Frank's fingers, rubbing catlike against them as he carefully pushes his hips down, twisting against the hard arch of Frank's cock through his underwear. It feels nice, stiff against the slight-soft of Gerard's hip, and he maybe rubs up against it as he takes a hissing little breath and says softly , "I like bein' like this, with you." He nuzzles up against Frank's face, twisting his own fingers through the hair on the side of Frank's head that still has hair long enough to grab.
"Mmh. Me too." Frank's words are stilted, winced, rushed against the height of Gerard's cheekbone. "That- nnh- that feels really good, you know. When you do that." It's as close to asking as Frank wants to get, without begging for it, please more, please more, please. Maybe it's that Gerard's serpentine, maybe it's that he likes Frank, despite him being the size of a traffic cone, a punk, a thrift-shop junkie. He works hard with Skeleton Crew, for not a lot of result (so far) and Gerard likes him anyway. "I like how you touch me." BIG GIANT GAY, FRANK IERO. God.
Gerard takes that as encouragement, takes a little breath as he nods and smiles his shy little smile as he twists up against Frank, letting the arch of his cock find a place to fit against the slight indent of his hipbone. He takes a breath, sweet and slow, and curls his fingers through Frank's hair again as he pushes a gentle kiss to the corner of Frank's mouth, not quite sure of his welcome, and asks nervously, "Like- Like this?"
Frank's face says much more than words, or even a sound, could. His face tenses, eyes closed, and his fingers fist into the meagre fabric somewhere up between Gerard's shoulder blades. He tugs Gerard toward him, uncaring of the push of his own tongue into Gee's mouth, uncaring of the potential prick of teeth, uncaring of anything but the way Gerard's making him feel. "Fuck. Fuck. Yeah."
It's easy to move against Frank, writhing slowly with the almost nervous jerk and tension of Frank's body beneath him. It's comfortable, mostly, his back tipping up under the clutch of Frank's hand as he slides his palm against the back of Frank's neck, cupping his head in the spread of his fingers as he pushes at Frank's tongue lightly with his own, keeping him away from the danger of his teeth as he groans. "Mmm."
While Gerard's motions are slow and languorous, they're more than enough to push, no, shove Frank into an orgasm that leaves him shaking and gasping under Gerard, and Gee can feel the pulse and flex of him against his hip, the tight way Frank just holds him, like he's going to fall. "God." Whispered. "Oh my god." It's a long moment before Frank falls back against the bed, flushed and hot, eyes still closed.
Gerard stares down at him, eyes wide and lips pulled into a tiny, incredulous smile, for a long moment before he ducks his head, kissing hesitantly at Frank's lips. "Did I do it right?" He can't help but keep his voice small, quiet, like that way if he was wrong it'll be less embarrassing, as he curls his arm around to hook the edge of the cover with his fingers, tugging it over their bodies almost without thought as he waits for Frank's reply. "Did, um. Did you like it?"
"Yeah," Frank breathes, slipping his hand up Gerard's back and into his hair, holding him just-so for the kiss. "An' other than having really gross shorts? Yeah. I really liked it." He fumbles at the bedside table again for the electric blanket switch, setting it to 'high', and weasels out from under Gerard. "Just gonna put on clean shorts, and I'm getting back in." Because you want me to, I think. I hope. I want. "Um. I was thinking." Hesitant and pointedly not-looking at Gerard. "I'm moving to Chicago in, like, a month? I- this is going to sound weird, and you can say no if you want. I was wondering if you'd want to come with me." Frank hazards a glance at Gerard, hoping his fear of Gee saying no doesn't translate to a statue in his bed. "Like. Uh. Live with me. If you wanted."
When Frank looks at him Gerard isn't angry, or unhappy, or anything else other than wide-eyed and confused, his lower lip tucked between his teeth. He can feel the furrow of his forehead, for all that he doesn't quite realize how he looks, wide-eyed and still flushed from what they did previously that did in Frank's shorts so thoroughly. "But, um. How am I gonna pay rent, if we're in Chicago? I mean, I've got savings, but I don't know if I'll be able to get a job. Since, um. Since I kind of suck at Winter."
Once Frank's changed into stretchy old track pants that are about eighteen sizes too big, he climbs onto the bed with Gerard. "I'll help you find a job. And you don't have to worry about rent. I can- I can look after both of us. So you don't have to worry about anything. I just... I want you there. A- someone I know. Here, get under. I'm opening the window so I can smoke, and it's fuckin' balls-cold out there." Frank cracks the window just enough that Ray won't have a shit on Frank for smoking in his bedroom, and he exhales his first drag with a sigh. "What do you think?"
Gerard dutifully pulls the cover up over his head, hugging it close so he can watch Frank with his wide, catlike eyes from the tiny space that's exposed. He still shivers when the window opens, eyes squeezing closed for a second, before he finally mumbles, voice muffled and soft, "I think I would, um. I think I'd like that. It's- It'd be good to finally move out of my parents' basement, yeah?"
"'course," Frank answers, blowing smoke out the window and leaning down to pet at Gerard's hair. "And I'd like the company. Your company, I mean. My place isn't very big, so you're probably taking a step down by moving there with me, but..." He shrugs, dropping the cigarette into a half-full plastic cup of water. "We, uh. We spend a lot of time together anyway... And I'll still have my place with Ray if we wanna come back or whatever." Not wanting to pin Gerard down, or make him think Frank wants him to commit to something that's not really more than friendship with- with whatever else they're doing. That's what it is, right? Just them being friends?
"That could be, um. Really cool. You know. Being... Together? It could be nice." Gerard leans a little into Frank's touch, sighing softly, then asks in a slightly pathetic voice, "Can you, um. Close the window? Then you could, you know. Come to bed, or whatever. And it'd be awesome."
Easy as that, Frank clanks the window shut, cutting the cold air off with a clouded breath. "As long as you're cool with it." And speaking of cool, not only is Frank's bedroom cooler than it was, but- shit. His little closet of an apartment in Chicago barely has any sort of air circulation. Buy a spaceheater before you forget, dorkface. No sense in taking him out there and then have him freeze to death. Frank slips under the blanket, snugging up to Gerard's side, compact and warm, himself. "You comfortable?"
Gerard hums a little, nodding pleasantly as he wraps himself up in Frank's body, the blanket still tucked up over the back of his head as he presses his nose to the side of Frank's head and sighs. "Mmm. Definitely. I like sleeping with you. It's, you know. Nice."