Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5952781.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      My_Chemical_Romance, frnkiero_andthe_cellabration, Gerard_Way_and_the
      Hormones
  Relationship:
      Frank_Iero/Gerard_Way
  Additional Tags:
      Teacher-Student_Relationship, Alternate_Universe_-_Student/Teacher, Non-
      Sexual_Submission, Dom/sub, Dom/sub_Play
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-02-08 Updated: 2018-02-21 Chapters: 16/? Words: 45829
****** Art is the Weapon... or Something ******
by sockpuppeteer
Summary
     Frank Iero is the typical teenage punk kid, causing trouble wherever
     he can, until he bumps into the new art teacher. Mr Way instantly
     floors him, and Frank just can't help himself. Really.
     Totally self indulgent and cliched and completely unoriginal, and I'm
     not even sorry 8D
***** Chapter 1 *****
At 8.58am on any other Monday, Frank would be hiding out under the bleachers
nursing a crafty cigarette or, on a particularly shitty day, something a little
stronger.
Instead, today Frank was hurriedly stuffing school books into his locker (if he
kept it full, there was no space left for a small, Frank-shaped human when
Devon and his crew of cavemen came a- knocking. Shut up, Frank's logic was
sound, okay. The idea had come to him last night in a dream, and he'd forgone
his second cigarette of the day to spend the last twenty-eight minutes booking
out the largest, heaviest books he could find in the library and ignoring the
stares of the other kids as he staggered down the corridor with them). He had
just squeezed "The Theory of Modern Day Feminism in Relation to the
Philosophies of Aristotle" in between "Trig 101" and "Personal Finance and
Taxation with a Side of What the Fuck Ever" (Frank might have been paraphrasing
that last one) when he was knocked forwards into his locker with a crash, nose
smashing into the side before he could get his hands up to protect his (totally
stunning, if you asked him) face.
Frank's initial reaction was to lash out at the asswipe messing with him, and
he whirled with a fist half pulled back and ready to swing.
"Fuck! Oh Jesus, sorry, fuck, I'm sorry, stupid fucking books-"
Even if Frank had been aiming to hit the guy, he would have swung wide, because
the guy was on the floor], books and papers scattered half way across the hall.
"Sorry, oh God, teachers shouldn't curse, right? Oh man, I am so fu- screwed, I
am so screwed, screwed isn't a curse, right? You screw a nail, no, shit, you
screw a fuckin' screw, Jesus Mary and Joseph, what am I even doing here..."
"Woah, dude," Frank started, blinking down at the mess of stuff and human being
before him, then dropped down to his knees to scoop up the sheafs of paper
closest to him. "Chill out."
The guy had a shock of fire red hair that was surely too long to be in line
with the dress code, which stuck up in all directions as if he - or someone
else, Frank thought with a silent leer - had been running his fingers through
it all morning. His skinny black tie was trailing against the floor gathering
dust, black pants getting more and more creased the longer he spent scrabbling
round on the floor - and wasn't ]that a pleasant image - and his white
shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbows leaving his pale forearms bare.
"Sorry, sorry," he continued, gathering up the last of his books into a
precarious-looking pile and standing up. The pile wobbled, and Frank reached
out to steady it with a hand, one eyebrow raised. This was a teacher?
The other guy - Frank couldn't think of him as a teacher, not yet - looked up
and grinned in thanks, and Frank's heart just about stopped. Dude was gorgeous,
all pale skin and dark eyes and high cheekbones. Funny little teeth, but he
looked so earnest and that had to be eyeliner under his eyes, nobody had
natural lashes that dark and thick.
The guy's smile faltered, and Frank realised he'd been staring. With his mouth
open. Smooth.
"No problem!" He spat out, a little too quickly, and grinned back. It probably
looked a little manic, because the other guy quirked his lips in response, and
oh God, Frank was gone. So, so gone. Fuck. "Uh," he stammered, "Did you, uh,
need a hand getting your stuff to class?"
Gorgeous - as Frank had decided to dub him until he found out his name -
grinned again, and Frank swooned internally.
"No, that's okay, but thank you! I think I can manage from here. Just gotta
remember to look where I'm fucki- sorry! Where I'm going. God." He drew in a
long breath and let it out, then pointed down the corridor. "The art block is
this way, right?"
It took Frank's brain a moment to whir back into gear, but that definitely
wasn't the way to the art block.
"Sorry dude, s'that way." Frank waved over his shoulder. "You sure you don't
need any help?" Any excuse to stick around a little longer, really. "I'm
already late for Math, it's not like an extra few minutes will make Mr.
Grossweiner any less pissed at me."
Gorgeous snorted, and Frank grinned along with him. "I'm not even kidding,
that's his real name."
"No way is that his real name!" Gorgeous exclaimed, then seemed to remember
himself because his face dropped and his eyes went wide with panic. "I mean,
uh, crap. I really am horrible at this whole teacher thing, huh?"
Frank shook his head, still smiling. "Nah, I'd say you're doing just fine.
Just, maybe try not to curse so much in front of the students. The other
teachers usually frown upon that sort of thing."
Gorgeous nodded firmly, mouth set in determination. "Noted. Do not curse in
front of the students. Maybe I should give myself detention and write lines."
Frank giggled, and Gorgeous smiled again. So gone.
"So, think you could help me find the art block? I'll totally write you a pass.
I'm Mr Way, by the way. I'd shake your hand, but..." He nodded down at the
stack in his arms.
Mr Way. Short, snappy. Frank wondered what his first name was.
Frank waved a hand in dismissal and slammed his locker shut, swinging his
backpack over his shoulder. "Frank. Iero. Is me, I mean." Nice. He took a stack
of books off the top of the pile so Mr Way could see where he was going, and
nodded in the right direction. "C'mon."
---
Mr. Grossweiner gave Frank the stink-eye when he eventually turned up to his
lesson, but Frank triumphantly waved his permission slip under the teacher's
nose and he couldn't do anything about it. Forty minutes late wasn't too bad,
right? He and Mr. Way had started talking about music, and there was no way
Frank was going to remind him of the time when he looked so enthused and
gorgeous and passionate. Frank could almost picture how that face would look
underneath him, or over him, or anywhere really, Frank wasn't going to be picky
about where as long as he could see it.
He dozed through the remainder of the lesson, figuring he could get the gist
from Ray later - the loser always paid attention - and instead spent his time
daydreaming about the gorgeous new art teacher. Frank had only taken art as an
easy grade, somewhere to doss around and draw crappy pictures and make up even
crappier ~deep and meaningful~ reasons for them, and the old - very pregnant -
art teacher had pretty much let him. Now though, now the stakes had changed.
Frank already knew the guy was gorgeous, stunning, jaw-dropping, and now he was
on the way to having a humongous crush after their conversation. Mr Way had
~opinions~ on music as a way to communicate and as a form of ~expression~ and
Frank could totally get behind that. Heh. Plus, just when Frank thought the
dude couldn't possible get any hotter he'd let slip that he liked the Misfits
and fucking Bowie.
Yeah, Frank was pretty fucking screwed.
---
"Mikeyway!" Frank cried, launching himself over the picnic table to sprawl half
in Mikey's lap, "Gimme your juice box."
Mikey's eyebrow twitched, and Frank knew he was totally smiling inside.
Mikeyway loooooved him. He could see Ray's hair out of the corner of his eye,
shaking from side to side in exasperation, but he was a valiant knight who
would not be deterred from his quest.
"Toddlers have juice boxes." Mikey said.
Mikeyway was a man of few words, but Frank had been friends with him long
enough to be able to read and understand the minutiae of his facial
expressions. Frank just looked expectant, both eyebrows raised, and eventually
Mikey reached into his bag and pulled out a box of apple juice, chucking it at
Frank's head. Even though Frank was literally eight inches away, it missed,
which made Frank think he wasn't really trying.
"Score!" Frank crowed happily, diving after the juice box.
"You're such a loser."
Frank stuck out his tongue around the straw, already sucking down the smooth,
apple-y goodness. "At least I'm a loser with juice."
Mikey's cheek did an 'eww, gross' thing and Frank grinned back with all his
teeth.
"Why weren't you in math this morning, Frank?" Ray asked, voice genuinely
curious, and Frank remembered he was totally going to steal Ray's notes later.
"Helping the new art teacher guy."
Ray gave him a look, and Frank could freaking hear Mikey's eyebrows.
"Seriously, helping? Is that sarcasm?" Ray pointed an accusatory finger Frank's
way and Frank carried on sucking down juice until the sides of the little
carton caved in on themselves. "When Miss Martinez couldn't get the projector
to work the other day, it was because you'd stolen the bulb. And that time Mr.
Smith got stuck in the storage closet because the door 'fell closed' and you
wedged a chair under the handle! And when-"
"Okay, okay!" Frank interrupted, "So I'm a menace, I get it. But man, have you
seen the new guy? He's hot."
"Oh God." Mikey drawled. "Please, please be shutting up now."
"Dude, what crawled up your ass and turned you into a homophobic prick?"
Mikey's face twitched into a glare. "Dick. The new art teacher's my brother."
Frank's face practically lit up. "No way!" Right, of course, Mikey Way. He'd
been Mikeyway for so long that Frank had practically forgotten he even had a
surname. He was like Madonna. Or Meatloaf. Eugh, meatloaf.
"No." Mikey.
"I didn't say anything!" Frank insisted.
"No." Mikey again.
Suddenly, Frank had an idea. "Hey, Mikey!"
"No."
"So, you should totally like, have a sleepover this weekend."
"What are you, a thirteen-year-old valley girl? No."
"Come on! It'll be awesome! We can stay up late, swap manly stories, and in the
morning-"
"No."
"Actually," Ray interjected, "It could be kind of fun. We hardly ever hang out
outside of school.
Mikey narrowed his eyes in Ray's direction and Ray shrugged one shoulder.
"Did you miss the part where Frank - never mind that Gerard is the lamest,
dorkiest nerd to walk the earth - where Frank wants to get into my brother's
pants? Which, by the way, gross."
Gerard, Frank banked mentally. Gerard. "Gerard," he tried out loud, and smiled.
It felt nice on his tongue. Heh.
"Oh, God." Mikey buried his face in his hands and groaned into his palms.
"Never mind Frank's weird-ass crush, we never hang out outside of school. Why
even is that? It'll be great, we can watch the worst movies we can find, jam
together, play video games, get pizza... It'll be awesome! You guys could come
to my place-" Ray started, and Mikey's shoulders shifted hopefully, "-but my
mom wouldn't let us stay up past, like, midnight, or make any noise, or watch
horror movies in the den. You're always talking about how chill your parents
are!"
"Right!" Frank agreed helpfully. He could tell they were winning. "And I'd
totally invite you to mine, but then I can't ogle your brother." Mikey glared
through his fingers, and okay, maybe antagonising him wasn't the best idea in
the world, but Frank couldn't help it, it was so easy.
"Don't listen to Frank, he's just being a dick." Frank stuck out his tongue and
threw his empty juice box at Ray's head. It bounced off his hair and landed
face-down in the dirt.
It took Ray a few more tries, but once Frank decided to keep his mouth shut
Mikey was a sucker for Ray's reasoning and logic. Hell, even Frank was getting
suckered in by the promise of pizza and terrible gore flicks, hot brother be
damned. Mikey really didn't stand a chance.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Frank didn't have art until Wednesday. He'd skulked around his locker for
longer than usual this morning, Tuesday, hoping to - literally - run into Mr
Way again, but all he'd managed was detention for being late to English. Great.
He'd skipped his morning cigarette, and now he'd miss his late afternoon
cigarette too. It would totally be Mr Way's fault if Frank was too jittery to
make it through Bio later.
But Frank had a plan. It may have been hastily formed in his mind in between
jerking off in the shower and jerking off before bed, but it was a plan.
Lunch rolled around and Frank casually wandered (read: totally legged it)
across the school grounds to the art block, ignoring Ray's questioning hair and
Mikey's juice box. He paused for a few moments outside the art room to catch
his breath (fucking bronchitis-prone, useless-ass smoker's lungs) then, when he
felt he could talk again without dying on the spot, stood up straight and
knocked on the mostly-open door, like a good student would do. Frank was proud
of himself.
"Come in!"
Score. Mr Way was in.
Gingerly, like he hadn't been hoping for this, Frank peeked his head around the
door, a tentative smile on his face.
"Hi, Mr Way."
Mr Way looked up from whatever he was doing - sketching, Frank thought - and
smiled nice and wide as he caught sight of Frank. Frank's chest did something
twist-y and weird, and Frank stepped fully into the classroom.
"Frank! Hi! What can I do for you?"
Frank felt his own mouth stretching to match Mr Way's smile, all tentativeness
vanishing in the face of such warmth, and approached Mr Way's desk, learning
back against one of the stools scattered around the room. If it happened to put
him a little more on display than just standing would have, well, totally
coincidental. Frank was completely innocent.
"I actually have a free period after lunch, and was wondering if you needed
help with anything? Like, I know it's your first week and stuff and, yeah."
Mr Way's smile, if it was possible, got even wider. "That's so sweet of you!"
He set his pencil down, and yeah, definitely sketching. Frank couldn't quite
see what it was from here, and didn't want to make his peeking too obvious.
"I'm actually fine, I think. I mean, I need to go through the store cupboard
and check everything's still good, sort out what's there and shi- uh, stuff,
but that's a really crap- awful job and I'm not gonna put you through that."
Mr Way was getting better at the whole not cursing in front of students thing.
Frank shook his head vehemently, widening his eyes in what he hoped was honesty
and not full of creeper. "No, I can totally help with that!"
"Oh no, Frank, honestly, it's fine, I couldn't ask-"
"Seriously," Frank insisted, "I don't mind." I really, really don't. "S'not
like I've got anything else to do, anyway." He shrugged one shoulder casually
and settled his face into, hopefully, 'bored but acquiescent'.
"Well..." Mr Way started, eyes flicking between Frank and the store cupboard.
Got him. "I guess if you're really sure, I could totally use the help. Are you
really sure it's okay? Like, is it even okay for me to be using students like
this?"
Oh, Mr Way, you can use me in any way you want. Out loud, Frank said, "It's
fine, we have to mark each other's homework in Math, this is not a big deal."
"Okay, well... Thank you." Mr Way grinned, and Frank took a moment to be glad
he was propped up by the stool. "But after lunch! You need to eat. I'm sure
you've got friends waiting-"
"Nah," Frank brushed off quickly. "They're probably just-" he hadn't planned
for this turn in conversation, and couldn't plausibly think of anything Mikey
and Ray would be doing that wasn't nothing at all. "-nah. Would it, um, be okay
if I ate lunch here?" Come on, Iero, get it back on track. "Like, um..." Yes!
Don't lie, no lying, but stretching the truth... "So I don't usually talk to
teachers about this kind of stuff, because they're all fuc- uh, idiots, but
you're- you're not, I guess, and." Frank risked a glance at Mr Way from
underneath his hair. Mr Way was watching him attentively, hands folded on his
desk in front of him. Damn, he was cute. "Well, there are some kids who... I
guess they don't like me very much."
As Frank peeked out at him, Mr Way's eyes turned cloudy, his mouth thinning as
he got the picture.
"Frank, these kids... Are they giving you trouble?"
Frank thought silence would work better than words right now, so he pointedly
said nothing and twisted his mouth up and to the side, lifting his head a
little and letting Mr Way see him peering out through his hair. He wasn't lying
- the Dickbag Crew did have it in for him - they just weren't the reason Frank
wanted to hide out in the art block.
"No, I get it." Mr Way carried on, when Frank stayed quiet. "I was picked on at
school, and I get how much it sucks. It's okay that you don't want to talk
about it. Just... If you do want to talk about it, you can talk to me, okay?"
God, he was just so damn earnest. Those eyes! Frank didn't stand a chance.
Instead of saying any of that, Frank nodded and quirked a half smile. "Thanks,
Mr Way."
Mr Way shook his head and chuckled to himself. "Man, Mr Way, that still sounds
so weird. Mr Way sounds like, my grandpa or something."
Feeling brave after their little heart-to-heart, Frank risked a cheeky grin and
said, "Well, I'd imagine you're much younger and better looking than your
grandpa."
Mr Way blinked, and that was definitely a blush creeping up his neck, despite
the hand now trying to hide it. He covered with a laugh, and before it could
get awkward Frank changed the subject.
"So... are you sure it's okay if I eat in here?"
Relief swam across Mr Way's face, and really, the guy needed to learn to get
that under control because kids could, and would, exploit any weakness they
could find.
"Sure, of course, absolutely! Just sit, y'know, wherever." Mr Way gestured
pointlessly towards the tall desks and stools around the centre of the room.
Frank settled down on a stool close enough to Mr Way's desk that he could still
talk easily, but not so close that he looked. Well. Creepy. Lunch today was two
pop tarts and a fruit roll up that totally counted as one of Frank's five-a-
day, okay. When he glanced over at Mr Way, Frank couldn't help the laugh that
burst from his throat.
Mr Way looked up at him, both eyebrows raised, fingers paused around the straw
to the familiar-looking juice box he'd just pulled out of his messenger bag.
Frank nodded at the juice box with a smile. "I steal Mikey's like, every day."
Mr Way looked down at the juice box like he'd forgotten it was there, then back
up at Frank. There was a tiny little furrow between his brows that Frank wanted
to smooth away with his thumb.
"Oh, you know Mikey?" Then his expression cleared. "Ohhhh. You're that Frank."
He was totally trying not to smile now, Frank could tell.
Frank grinned, wide and proud. "Whatever he said, s'probably true."
Mr Way was definitely trying not to smile now. Frank could hear it in his
voice. "He said you were a menace and a liability who spent more time in
detention than in actual class. And that you once locked a teacher in a
cupboard."
"It was an accident!" Frank insisted. Mr Way didn't look like he believed him,
but he did look rather amused with the whole thing, so Frank took it as a win.
"Just don't try and lock me in any cupboards, Iero, and we should be just
fine."
Iero. Fuck, that was hot. And Mr Way remembered his name! Iero, gah. And now
Frank was picturing locking himself in the store cupboard with Mr Way, and all
the places he'd like that to go, and it was getting dangerous. In his pants.
Frank grasped for something to say, something that wasn't 'I'd like to lock you
in a cupboard and have my way with you', but thankfully Mr Way got there first,
gesturing to the CD player perched on the corner of his desk.
"Do you mind if I play some music?"
Frank shrugged, relieved. "Go ahead."
After lunch, Frank really did have a free period, and he and Mr Way got to work
sorting through all the junk in the store cupboard. It looked like it hadn't
been cleaned in about a century and everything on the upper shelves was covered
in a thick layer of dust. Frank didn't feel very attractive hacking up a lung,
but after the second time, he had begrudgingly admitted the nature of his
spectacular, failing immune system to Mr Way, and had been forced to sit
outside and wait while Mr Way brought things out to him instead.
It hadn't taken long over lunch for the conversation to turn to music again,
especially with Mr Way blasting Bowie all over the show, and Frank couldn't
stop himself waxing lyrical about Space Odyssey. Right now, he was sorting
through tubes of acrylic paint while Mr Way dug around in the store cupboard.
"I mean, the man's a fucking genius, okay. Like, Big Brother, seriously. That
track is just. Woah."
"Right!" Mr Way agreed, his voice muffled by whatever he currently had his head
stuck in. Frank was happily checking out his ass. "That entire album, oh my
God. Rebel Rebel would be overdone if it wasn't so fuckin' incredible." Frank
had noticed that the more into a topic Mr Way was, the less likely he was to
notice the curses slipping out. "That song was like, my teenage mantra or
something." Interesting.. Great, now Frank was picturing Mr Way in a dress,
maybe a little extra eye makeup and some lipstick, oh Jesus fucking Christ.
"Dude was always so ahead of his time," Mr Way continued, oblivious to Frank's
raging hormones, "and by the time music caught up he was already onto the next
big thing. And what about the Labyrinth! Like a fuckin' wet dream come to
life!"
Fuck. Suddenly, Frank couldn't think of a thing to say. Mr Way's brain must
have caught up with his mouth because he froze where he was crouched, then
slowly, slowly, he pulled his head out from under the shelf and half-turned to
look at Frank.
"Uh, Frank..t."
Well, this was awkward.
Frank opened his mouth, and shook his head frantically. Awkward was bad, no, no
awkward.
"Seriously!" Frank said, maybe a little too loud, but anything to stop Mr Way
looking so freaked out. "Those tights! And the hair, man, the hair. Dude looked
good."
It was quiet for a long moment. Frank broke out his cheekiest grin and, looking
straight at Mr Way, murmured quietly, "You remind me of the babe."
It took a long, painstaking moment, but finally, Mr Way cracked a tiny smile,
and after a beat, replied, "The babe with the power."
"The power of voodoo~" Frank shot back, louder, and Mr Way laughed.
"Who do?"
"You do!" They both crowed together, and Frank cracked up, almost falling off
the stool.
---
That night when Frank jerked off, it was with two fingers deep in his ass and
Mr Way's dark eyes boring into him, and when he fell apart and came all over
himself, it was with Mr Way's laugh ringing out in his ears and his name on his
lips.
---
"Dude, where were you yesterday?" Ray hissed when Frank rolled up to Math the
next day.
"In the art block. Helping Mr Way."
Ray opened is mouth to say something, then closed it again. Then he opened it
again, but all that came out was a resigned-sounding, "Jesus Christ."
---.
Wednesday afternoon rolled around, and Frank trudged slowly across to the art
block after lunch. He'd avoided Mr Way on purpose, not wanting to seem too
eager to spend time with his teacher - especially not when Mikey had apparently
been telling his brother all about what a terrible student Frank was - and had
decided to be fashionably late to the lesson itself. It would enforce his not-
too-eagerness, he'd told himself, and if he wound up with detention with Mr Way
as a result, well, that was just a happy little bonus.
The rest of the class was already in and seated when Frank arrived, and Mr Way
paused mid-sentence when Frank not-so-subtly snuck through the door.
"Frank!" Mr Way grinned, and Frank's heart stuttered.
"Sorry I'm late, Mr Way." Frank apologised, looking appropriately trite, and Mr
Way just waved it off.
"S'no big, just get your things out and we'll continue." Mr Way waved Frank to
his seat and Frank dumped his bag on the table with a soft thud. It was a good
seat - not too close to the front that he looked like a teacher's pet - a
couple of giggling girls had taken those and were very obviously twirling their
hair around their fingers - but not too far back either - those had already
been taken by the kids that thought art was an easy ride, much like Frank had.
Mr Way was back to waving his hands around as he spoke, and really, Frank could
listen to him talk about pretty much anything as long as he talked like that.
Apparently he wanted them to introduce themselves to him, much like he had to
them - which Frank had apparently missed in his tardiness - and tell him one
interest they had, and one thing they loved about themselves. They went around
the class, and Frank pretty much zoned out, because there was only so much 'oh,
I guess I love my eyes' and 'I have a great personality!' and 'I love art!'
(from one of the girls at the front, ugh) that he could listen to without
physically gagging. Instead he leaned an elbow on the desk, chin in one hand,
and happily watched Mr Way, nodding and smiling along with whatever each
student was saying, adding his two cents occasionally. Suddenly, Mr Way was
meeting Frank's eyes and saying his name.
"Frank?"
Frank startled, embarrassed at having been caught staring, but Mr Way didn't
seem put off, just kept on smiling that incredible smile at him, a question in
his eyes.
"I, sorry, uh."
"It's your turn, Frank." Mr Way's smile broadened at the corners, and Frank
could just tell he was being made fun of. Frank glared back, sullen and
teenager-y, and Mr Way actually laughed. "Obviously we can skip the name part,
and I'm going to take a guess and say your one love is, oh I don't know,
music?" Yep, he was definitely being made fun of. "But how about something you
love about yourself?"
Two can play at that game, Frank thought, and he smirked, eyes shining.
"Well," Frank said matter-of-factly, "I'm pretty amazing in bed, I guess."
Frank watched the smile fall from Mr Way's face, and the guy's mouth actually
fell open. Frank could hear the kids around him tittering and giggling, and one
of the douchebags at the back yelled out "Ohhh, snap!" before the whole group
burst out laughing. He didn't spare them a glance though, just held Mr Way's
gaze and quirked an eyebrow. Check..
Mr Way visibly pulled himself together, and that was not a smile on his face
any more. Oops.
"Funny." He didn't sound amused.
A few of the students 'ooooh'-ed and Mr Way hushed them before brushing over
Frank completely and carrying on with the lesson. Frank felt a little put-out.
Not even a 'stay after class'? Pff. What a waste.
After the lesson, Frank packed away slowly and let the other students file out
before him. Mr Way was busy shoving things in his bag as Frank approached his
desk, hiking his backpack over his shoulder with one hand, and he looked up
when Frank coughed softly.
"Uh, Mr Way?"
"Yes, Frank?" Mr Way asked quietly, a tentative note in his voice that Frank
felt bad for putting there.
"I, uh, about earlier. I... I guess I, just, uh..."
"It's fine, Frank. It's not like I didn't know you could be a difficult
student. I just thought... Never mind."
Wow, now Frank sounds like a right dick. Mr Way sounded pretty torn up about
it, and Frank's heart broke a little. That was his fault.
"I'm sorry." Frank admitted, eyes fixed on a mug ring on the surface of Mr
Way's desk. Honesty this time, he'd decided, no stretching the truth necessary
"It was a stupid thing to say. I just... It sounded like, like you were making
fun of me, I guess, and I just... y'know. But what I said, about being good in
bed... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a dick."
Frank risked a glance at Mr Way's face, and felt relief trickle through him
when he saw the other man smiling again, properly this time.
"It's okay, Frank. Honestly. I guess I was kind of making fun of you." Mr Way
grinned conspiratorially. "You were totally spacing out though. I couldn't let
it go unnoticed."
Frank stuck his tongue out petulantly, and Mr Way laughed. Frank could listen
to that laugh all day.
"You'd totally have been spacing out too if you were me. Did you even hear some
of them!" Frank grumbled, then mocked in a higher pitch, "'Art's totally my
favourite subject, teehee!' Urgh. Suck ups."
""Now Frank," Mr Way said carefully, "It's not nice to mock the other
students." Frank wasn't fooled though, he could totally see the curve of his
mouth he was hiding behind his hair.
"Anyway," Mr Way continued, "You could be on your way home now. As could I.
Instead, we are both still here because, Mikey was right, you're a menace." He
wasn't hiding his smile now though, so it was okay. Frank was pretty sure Mr
Way could say anything and he wouldn't really care. Now, he was making little
shooing motions with his hands. "Go on, scoot."
"Scoot?" Frank mocked, eyebrows raised. "Sure, Dad."
Mr Way's cheeks turned an interesting shade at that, and the left side of his
face twitched. Frank quirked his lips, but ultimately did as he was told.
This time, huddled under the covers with his hand on his dick, Frank called Mr
Way Daddy and came so hard he saw stars.
Chapter End Notes
     Let me know what you think! :D <3
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     I know it's going pretty slowly, but I'm sort of tired of reading fic
     where it's all 'oh, no, but I'm your teacher! we can't! angst angst
     angst oh screw it, prison is totally worth a three-day-old crush on a
     seventeen year old!' >_>;; like, seriously? And the best things come
     to those who wait, right?
Friday seemed to take forever to come. It wasn't all bad; he and Mr Way had
bonded some more over Queen and Smashing Pumpkins at lunch, and the art stores
were looking much neater. Frank was tempted to get in there and mess it all up
again to give himself an excuse to stick around longer. Mr Way seemed to be
loosening up in Frank's company now; he'd stopped apologising for cursing so
much, and while Frank wouldn't go as far as to say they were friends, things
were certainly pretty amicable. Mr Way seemed pleased to see Frank when he
turned up, at least, and they spent their time listening to music and sharing
opinions (of which Mr Way had many, and didn't mind arguing with Frank about if
Frank dared to disagree). At one point, Frank had tugged off his hoodie and Mr
Way had done a pretty amazing double-take at the tattoos covering Frank's arms.
Frank's tattooist didn't care about his age so long as Frank had the money and
kept his mouth shut. Frank was completely convinced that no matter how much it
had looked like it, it couldn't have been desire flashing in Mr Way's eyes. But
despite all of that, school dragged even more than usual and the teachers were
even more impossible, Frank was sure.
Finally though, Mikey was letting them into his house. Outside, the sun was
shining, but inside the house the light seemed to get swallowed up by all the
wood paneling and dark carpets. Then there were the creepy-ass dolls cluttering
the shelves, with the odd family photo shoved haphazardly in the gaps, and the
lingering smell of smoke hanging over everything.
Frank thought it was perfect.
"Dude, your house is amazing." He said, turning full circle and inhaling, long
and slow, before letting it out in a rush.
Mikey looked at Frank like he'd grown another head, but Frank ignored him in
favour of making himself at home on the huge, squishy-looking couch. He
burrowed into the cushions, feet slung over one arm, and stayed there through
four rounds of Mario Kart, five chocolate chip cookies - Mikey's mom was the
best - and two cans of coke. As he was aiming the fifth empty can at Ray's
head, trying to put him off his game, keys jangled in the door and there was Mr
Way, looking tired and tousled but still every bit as gorgeous as he had when
Frank had seen him earlier that day.
"Hey Gee." Mikey said without looking away from his game, and Mr Way waved
vaguely in their direction.
"Hi boys. I'm just gonna-" he gestured vaguely towards the kitchen, "Yeah."
Frank watched him disappear into the kitchen, and jumped up from his warm,
comfy spot. "Drinks?"
"Nah." Mikey.
"You are so freaking transparent." Ray.
"Pff, fuck you guys then, see if I get you anything."
Frank found Mr Way huddled over the coffee machine, watching impatiently as the
pot filled drip by drip.
"Long day?" He asked, and Mr Way ran a hand over his eyes with a sigh.
"You have no idea." He flopped down into a chair at the table and dropped his
head back, pressing the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. "Not to sound
creepy or anything," he started, hands still digging into his eyes, "but lunch
and sorting the cupboard with you is kinda the highlight of my day." Mr Way
moved his hands and blinked awkwardly in the light, before he managed to focus
on Frank. "Is that really pathetic?"
Frank pulled a few cans of coke and some milk out of the fridge, sliding one of
the cans across the table and, helpfully he thought, leaving the milk next to
the coffee pot. Mr Way took the can with a grateful smile and instead of
opening it, pressed it, still sealed, to his forehead.
"No way. I'm totally awesome." He grinned, all teeth, and Mr Way huffed a laugh
out through his teeth.
"Totally."
Frank was playing it cool on the outside but he was totally flapping around on
the inside. Highlight of his day! Yes! He could hardly contain himself.
Irritatingly, Mikey ruined the moment by bursting into the kitchen and stealing
the can from Mr Way's grasp. Mr Way yelped like a kicked puppy, and Frank fell
a little more for how completely and totally adorable he was. Mikey cracked the
can open and took a few huge gulps before letting out an impressive belch and
looking smug.
Frank screwed up his nose. "You're disgusting."
Mikey's eyebrows twitched and he shot Frank a loaded look. "I am not the
disgusting one here."
Mr Way just ignored them both and stared longingly at the coffee machine.
"Gee~" Mikey waved a hand in front of his face, and Mr Way swatted at him like
a fly. "Buy us beer."
"Mikey! No!"
"What? Why not?" Mikey looked personally affronted, or as affronted as someone
with Mikeyway's face could look.
"Because you're minors! I'm not aiding and abetting!" Mr Way looked horrified
at the thought.
Mikey didn't seem half as bothered. "You fucking hypocrite, you were like
fourteen when you started drinking. And you've bought me beer before! We always
drink together."
"But I'm your teacher now, Mikes!" Mr Way said earnestly, waving a hand around
his head. "I-I need to like, set a fuckin' example or some shit."
Mikey snorted, and Mr Way shoved his shoulder, sending Mikey stumbling into the
counter.
"Shut the fuck up, asshole." Mr Way grumbled.
"You are the worst example ever." Mikey said. "Besides, it's not like Frank's
not screwed already."
"Hey!"
"If you want beer tonight, you'll shut up, Frank."
Frank shut up.
"But... I could get fired, Mikes. That's some serious shit right there."
Frank was having a hard time seeing the guy sitting at the table arguing with
his little brother as Mr Way right now. Gerard, he thought. This was Gerard he
was seeing now. He'd caught glimpses during their periods together, but here,
at home in his kitchen, the teacher had been stripped away and only Gerard was
left. It was oddly invigorating.
Mikey didn't seem to understand the importance, though. "So?" He shrugged. "We
won't tell. Right, Frank?"
Frank blinked between the two of them, unsure of the right answer. To side with
Mikey, or with Mr Way. "...No?" He hedged, and Mikey's eyebrows grinned at him.
There was a thud and a groan as Mr Way's head hit the table.
"Gnnnrgh."
"You're the best, Gee!" Mikey threw his arms around his brother's shoulders,
and Mr Way let him.
"Uh huh," he mumbled, muffled by the table. "Whatever. I'm so going to hell. I
hope you're proud of yourself. Now fuck off and play nice while I go and break
the law."
Frank trailed Mikey back into the living room.
"Dude," he asked softly, "Is he really okay with getting us beer?"
Mikey shrugged. "Sure,, if he wasn't he wouldn't do it. Gee's just a drama
queen. Likes to make a scene."
Frank lifted his chin in a little alright, then, quirked his mouth, and shoved
Ray out of his spot so he could sprawl out with his coke.
By the time Mr Way returned, they were half an hour into their first dodgy
horror movie and Frank was starting to get hungry. Suddenly, the smell of pizza
twitched Frank's nose, and he shot up like a meerkat.
"Best. Brother. Ever." Mikey stated matter-of-factly, and promptly stole the
pizza boxes straight out of Mr Way's arms before he could say a word, spreading
them out over the floor between himself and Ray. Frank's dedication to pizza
was such that he gave up his position on the couch to slide down onto the floor
and snag a slice of cheese and tomato, shoving half the slice into his mouth in
one go and chewing obnoxiously.
"Seriously," Mikey said sadly, "And I'm the disgusting one."
Mr Way quietly set a paper bag down next to the pizza, then disappeared into
the kitchen, only to return with a plate. Mikey dug through the bag and came
out with a four-pack.
"Ooh, you got the good stuff. Sweet."
Mr Way twisted his mouth up, then reached over and snagged one for himself. "If
I'm buying, I'm drinking. Like I'm gonna buy the shitty stuff."
Frank grabbed a can for himself and out of the corner of his eye, saw Ray do
the same. "Thanks, Mr Way." He said, and Mr Way turned to him, horrified.
"Oh God, please don't say that. Don't, like, like I'm a teacher, Jesus. Just...
Gerard, Gerard is fine when I'm buying alcohol for underage teenagers."
Frank shrugged one shoulder, "Thanks, Gerard." If Mr Way's name maybe came out
a little softer than he'd meant it to, well.
Mr Way smiled awkwardly. Frank felt like his gaze lingered for a little longer
than was entirely necessary, but that was a ridiculous thought to have. Wishful
thinking.
Mr Way scarpered soon after, taking a plate of pizza and a can of beer then
leaving them to their video games. Frank tried not to be too disappointed.
Despite the lack of freaking hot teacher to ogle, the night was still, as Ray
had predicted, pretty fun. Ray and Frank kicked Mikey's ass at Mario Kart, then
again at Battlefield (they were all supposed to be on the same team, but the
way Mikey squawked at them every time his head exploded was too entertaining to
pass up for something as menial as, y'know, winning). Guitar Hero segued easily
into actually jamming (which Mikey also sucked at, but at least that meant
Frank could steal his guitar), and Frank learned what an absolute boss Ray was,
even on an acoustic. If he was anyone other than himself he probably would've
felt a little intimidated. Playing with Ray was definitely the most fun Frank
had had in a long time. They moved seamlessly from one song to the next, Ray
needing only a few notes from Frank to pick up the thread, and when Frank's
repertoire of songs ran out and he started up something brand new, just letting
the notes flow from his fingers, Ray grabbed hold of it and ran, and it was
amazing. Frank could have stayed there all night, just playing whatever came
into his head and seeing where Ray took it, but after a few hours, as 1am
rolled around, Mikey was starting to look pretty bored so Frank took pity and
they put in a movie instead.
One and a half movies later, Frank's eyes were spending more time closed than
they were open. He could tell the scantily-clad blonde on screen was going to
die soon, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what kind of creature
she was being chased by, nor how she'd gone from chilling with her friends at
school to tripping over nonexistent branches and running into trees in the
pouring rain.
The next time Frank opened his eyes, blinking blearily, the DVD menu was
looping the thirty-second song over and over. Now he'd never know what the
chick was running from, and whether she got torn limb from limb, or had her
brains eaten. Ray was snoring softly in one of the armchairs and Mikey was
nowhere to be seen. Asshole probably decided his own bed was better than
roughing it on the floor. Deciding to save giving him shit for it until the
morning, Frank just pulled the blanket thrown over the back of the couch over
himself and snuggled back down, asleep before he'd even had to think about it.
---
Thursday lunch time found Frank back in Mr Way's classroom. Mr Way had stayed
in his room, Frank assumed, until after they'd left on Saturday, even though
Frank had tried to hang around as long as possible. Mikey had had to forcibly
eject him from the premises in the end, along with the threat of sharing
Frank's little crush with his brother. Unsurprisingly, Frank had decided to go
home. He'd had band practice to go to anyway, so Mikey totally hadn't won. He'd
visited outside of his lessons a few times already that week, but since the
Bowie awkwardness he hadn't risked steering them towards anything that might
push their budding (Frank hoped) friendship.
"So," Frank started, in the middle of organising the tubes of watercolour
paints by shade. This was a good moment, he was sure of it. They'd just reached
a lull in conversation, after discussing at length their feelings on Velvet
Goldmine and Ewan McGregor's portrayal of his character (tl;dr: Mr Way was a
huge fan; Frank was on the fence), and Frank thought it segued quite well into
what he wanted to ask. "What's your view on non-traditional relationships?"
Frank was fairly sure he knew the answer, after last week, but this way he
could get firm confirmation, and also put himself out there. Two birds, one
stone. Or possibly three, if he played it right.
Mr Way's eyes cut across the desk, and Frank carefully ignored him, focusing
hard on the tubes of paint in front of him.
"Non-traditional how?" Mr Way asked, a vaguely suspicious edge to his voice.
Frank shrugged, noncommittal, and carried on sorting. "Like, Brian and Curt,
right? Two guys isn't exactly the Catholic church idea of traditional."
Frank caught Mr Way's tiny sigh of relief. Like he'd be so obvious as to go
down the student/teacher route. No way, he actually liked Mr Way. Sure, he
still wanted to get into his pants like, yesterday, but Frank was enjoying Mr
Way's company far too much to screw things up by playing the whore.
Mr Way was focusing incredibly hard on the sheaf of papers in his hands. They
looked pretty neat to Frank, but Mr Way carried on straightening them anyway.
Frank was pretty sure he just wanted something to do with his hands.
"Well, Mr Way said carefully, and Frank had a split second panic of shit I've
misread everything, before he carried on, "I'd be a bit of a fuckin' hypocrite
if I had a problem with non-traditional relationships."
He didn't offer anything else, so Frank muttered a soft, "Oh?" Like his heart
totally wasn't hammering a mile a minute and his palms weren't sweating all
over the paints. Lovely.
Mr Way hummed, almost to himself. Just when Frank thought he wasn't going to
offer anything else up, he spoke again.
"Sure, like. I've had girlfriends, and I've had boyfriends. Love is love,
right?"
"Right!" Frank agreed, doing his best to hide his grin - he was pretty sure it
would be a little manic around the edges. "Who cares if it's two boys, or two
girls, or whatever."
Mr Way nodded and smiled straight at Frank. Frank's heart stuttered. "Love is
beautiful."
"Right," Frank said again, softly. "I mean, I... I've never, like..."
"It's okay, Frank." Mr Way assured him, eyes all earnest and gorgeous, "You
don't have to talk about anything that makes you feel uncomfortable."
Frank shook his head. "No, I'm not uncomfortable, just. I've never had a
girlfriend. Just boyfriends. Don't think I really want one. A girlfriend, I
mean."
Mr Way nodded in understanding, but seemed to get that Frank wasn't quite
finished word-vomiting yet.
"I haven't told my mom yet. Just... just Mikey. And Ray. They're totally cool
about it though."
"As they should be." Mr Way said vehemently, "I'd have to kick Mikey's ass if
he wasn't. There's nothing wrong with liking boys, Frank, nothing at all, no
matter what the church tries to tell you."
Frank smiled and went back to organising his colours, almost finished with the
gigantic box of paints now. "I know, I'm not worried that I'm fucked up in the
head or anything. I fell out of love with the church a long time ago. Mary, I
like her a lot, but the rest of it is pretty much bullshit. I guess I just
wanted to make sure... Like, if you were an asshole about it then I don't think
we could be friends."
There it was, out there in the open. Frank was, ridiculously, more worried
about the 'friends' thing than he was the 'gay' thing.
Mr Way didn't seem to notice his crisis though, and just laughed. "Well, I'm
glad you've decided I'm not an asshole, then."
That right there was confirmation enough for Frank.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Summary
     Stuff happens, and Frank realises something about himself.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
On his way in from school Friday afternoon, Frank had called out a greeting to
his mother then scarpered up to his room before she made him help with dinner.
He loved him mom, of course he did, she put up with so much of his shit, but
tonight he had plans. He had an appointment tomorrow to get a new tattoo, and
Frank was stoked.
His lesson with Mr Way earlier was pretty much the best thing so far this year.
Mr Way had set them to drawing portraits of each other using charcoals, and was
perched on his desk, chatting away happily with them while they worked.
"So, anything exciting going on over the weekend?" He asked innocently, leaning
back on his hands. It took all Frank's willpower to keep his eyes on his work.
He's still not entirely sure he managed it.
A few students offered up relatively banal plans, one was visiting her dad,
another was getting their hair dyed and Mr Way took a few moments to wax
lyrical on his favourite brands for home-dying. Frank zoned out after one
particularly boring story from one of the girls about how she was going
shopping for new shoes, and of course, Mr Way chose that moment to pick on him.
"What about you, Frank?"
If Mr Way noticed how hard Frank wasn't listening, Frank couldn't see it on his
face. He just shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal, and said, "I'm getting
another tattoo."
Out of the corner of his eye, Frank saw Mr Way's eyebrows practically touch his
hairline, and he gaped for a long moment, a soft flush gathering around his
collar.
"You-" Mr Way's voice caught, and he started again, surer this time. "You have
tattoos already? Aren't you a bit young for that?"
Frank shrugged again. "I've got a friend. So long as I pay up front and don't
go waving their name around, they don't ask questions they don't want the
answer to."
"Frank..." Mr Way said slowly, concern lacing his voice. The rest of the class
had gone very, very quiet. "Are they... safe? Are you safe?"
Frank snorted. "You sound like you're talking about sex. Yes, Dad," He said
pointedly. The reaction last time had been worth reliving, and Mr Way didn't
disappoint. "I'm safe. Condoms and everything."
The class tittered awkwardly, like they wanted to laugh at Frank's attitude,
but weren't sure if they should.
"Frank," Mr Way sighed, "Be serious, please."
Frank took pity, but only because Mr Way looked genuinely worried.
"It's fine, honest. They're a registered store, it's clean, sterile, all that
jazz. I've known the guy since I was, like, eight or something."
Mr Way let out a long breath and nodded. "Okay. Okay, just. Be careful, okay?"
"Sure, teach." Frank said lightly, but caught Mr Way's eyes with a grin to
hopefully convey his sincerity.
Mr Way smiled back at him, and Frank turned back to his work before his eyes
gave away too much, assuming Mr Way would move on to another student now.
"So, what are you getting?" Mr Way asked, apparently not moving on to another
student.
Frank put down his charcoal, rubbing stained fingers against his jeans. "I want
to get a pumpkin. On my back, I think. That would be pretty kickass.
Halloween's my birthday, so like. Yeah. That'd be cool."
Mr Way grinned slowly. "Halloween, really? Dude, nice!" He'd slipped into what
Frank had recently started thinking of as Gerard-mode, his teacher voice fading
into his normal voice. Frank wondered if he'd slip and start cursing in front
of the other students.
"Yeah," Frank agreed with a grin, "I haven't found a design I like yet though,
so I might have to cancel. I want something really awesome, y'know? But I
fuckin' suck at drawing, man."
There was a collective intake of breath, but Mr Way didn't seem to have noticed
Frank's less-than-stellar language. The bell chose that moment to shriek at
them, and the other students began hurriedly packing their things away and
shouldering out of the door. Frank was a little slower, in no real hurry to
finish up their conversation.
"Will your tattooist not design something for you?" Mr Way asked, and Frank
pursed his lips.
"He's great at what he does, but he's pretty shit at original work, and there's
nothing in their books that looks as freaky as I want."
Mr Way paused where he was gathering up scattered charcoals and returning them
to their boxes. Frank could almost hear the cogs whirring, he was thinking so
loudly. He stayed quiet and finished packing his backpack, busying himself
picking at a loose thread on one of the many patches he'd hot glued to it.
"Um..." Mr Way started, then stopped again. Frank blinked up at him, and waited
some more, wondering what had turned Mr Way into a fumbling kid.
"Um..." Mr Way said again, but didn't make Frank wait any longer. "So, what
about... I could, maybe... I could try and draw you something? If you want, I
mean-"
"Dude." Frank interrupted. "Are you fucking serious?"
"Only if you wanted!" Mr Way said quickly, "I mean, I would totally understand
if you didn't, like, it'd be on your body forever and that's like-"
"No way!" Frank exclaimed, and Mr Way seemed to pull back into himself before
Frank grinned so, so wide. "That would be sick. You'd really do that for me?"
A tiny smile crept onto Mr Way's face, and he was definitely blushing, Frank
could see even though he was trying to hide behind his hair. He fussed with the
boxes of charcoals and a sheaf of paper, looking anywhere but at Frank.
"Sure, of course, like... We're friends, right? Of course. It's no problem."
Frank barely held himself back from launching himself at Mr Way in a tacklehug.
"Oh my God, thank you so much, I don't even- thank you."
Mr Way laughed awkwardly. "Don't thank me yet, you haven't seen it! What if it
sucks?"
"It's not going to suck." Frank said, completely sure. "Nothing you draw for me
will suck." Not just because Frank knew Mr Way was a fantastic artist, but
because Mr Way was going to draw it for him.
Mr Way smiled shyly and ducked his head again, but Frank could tell he was
pleased. "I could, like, email it to you later?" Frank nodded eagerly. "Where
on your back do you want it?"
Without really thinking it through (although if he had, he probably still would
have done it), Frank turned around and reached back, pulling his hoodie and t-
shirt up from the small of his back and leaving them bunched around his neck.
He heard Mr Way's sharp intake of breath, and felt the other man gravitating
closer.
"Frankie..." Oh, Frank could get used to that nickname. Especially falling from
Mr Way's lips like that.
"It goes all the way around." Frank said softly, not wanting to break the
spell. He turned in a slow circle, watching Mr Way's eyes follow his tattoos
all the way around. As his swallows came into view, low low low on Frank's
stomach, Mr Way's mouth fell open slightly. God.
"Gorgeous..." Mr Way breathed, and reached out as if to touch. He got close
enough for Frank to feel the warmth from his fingers, but caught himself just
in time, snatching his hand back like it burned.
To say Frank was pleased with Mr Way's reaction to his tattoos was definitely
an understatement, but he tried not to let it show on his face. He wet his
suddenly dry lips and took the moment back, before things got weird. "I think
all the way across, right between my shoulder blades..." He said, hoping Mr Way
wouldn't notice the catch in his voice. He turned back around so only the words
Destroy and Search were visible. "What do you think?"
Mr Way coughed and cleared his throat, and Frank knew he'd be running a hand
through his hair, probably smearing charcoal dust through it and making it look
even wilder than usual.
"Yeah-" Mr Way's voice cracked, and he tried again. "Yeah, right, that's gonna-
s'gonna look great. Really great." He seemed to have pulled himself together
now, and relaxed a little more when Frank fixed his clothes and turned to face
him.
Frank grinned, already stoked to see it. "Oh man, thank you so much, Mr Way.
This is gonna be sick."
Mr Way smiled back, tension draining from his shoulders as Frank watched now
they were back on more familiar ground.
So Frank had given Mr Way his email address, thanked him about a hundred more
times, and rushed home to sit and refresh his email inbox like the huge loser
he was turning into. He hadn't even pranked any of the teachers during the
first two weeks of school; he was totally slacking. He'd have to think of
something soon or they'd all think he'd gone soft over the summer. Or worse,
they might think turning 18 meant he'd be, eurgh, growing up. Heaven forbid.
Mr Way's email didn't come in before dinner, and Frank trudged downstairs to
eat with his mom. Frank might have been anything but a model student at school,
but ever since his dad left and Frank had been the only man in his mom's life,
he'd made a firm decision to never give her any trouble. She struggled enough
as it was keeping them both afloat while he went to school, and refused to let
him get a part time job to help, so the least Frank could do was have dinner
with her and talk to her like a civil human being. After dinner, Frank did the
dishes and watched an episode of Jeopardy with his mom,. He tried not to let
his impatience show, but the second the end credits came up he raced back
upstairs and skidded to a halt in front of his laptop, tapping F5 as gently as
he could manage.
A new email popped up, from g.a.way@gmail.com. Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes!
Frank clicked into the email and attachment and tapped his foot as he waited
for the image to load. Then felt his jaw drop.
---
First thing Monday morning, Frank practically fell through the door into the
art room. Thankfully, there were no other students around, and Frank launched
himself at Mr Way, flinging his arms around him and dimly registering Mr Way's
'woah' of surprise.
"Oh my God, Mr Way, it looks amazing, totally the coolest thing ever, when I
said it'd be sick I didn't think like, sick sick, but it is, so nasty and
freaky and oh my God, fucking perfect!"
Mr Way was smiling now, blushing and carefully patting Frank's shoulders in
some semblance of a hug, clearly with more presence of mind than Frank to avoid
touching his back.
Frank stepped back, grinning so hard his face hurt, and could see how badly Mr
Way wanted to laugh at him.
"Good morning, Frank," Mr Way said formally, the corners of his mouth
twitching, "I trust you had a good weekend?"
"Oh my God, shut up!" It didn't hold any venom though, because Frank couldn't
stop smiling for long enough.
Mr Way let his laugh bubble out, and his eyes turned excited. "It looks
awesome?"
"Fuck yeah! Oh man, so cool, wanna see?" Frank was already tugging his hoodie
off, carefully because it still hurt like a bitch.
Mr Way frowned. "Is it okay to take the bandages off yet?"
Frank waved him off. "Sure, s'fine, I just changed it before I left and it'll
only be for a second." His shirt followed his hoodie and he watched from under
his eyelashes as Mr Way's eyes darted down towards his swallows then back up
over his 'hope' flame to a safe spot on his shoulder.
"How do you even dress that?" Mr Way asked, when Frank turned around.
"My Mom." Frank said simply, then added, "Is the best."
Mr Way nodded, but didn't make a move to help. Twisting his head to raise an
eyebrow over his shoulder, Frank nudged his head towards the bandage covering a
large part of his upper back.
"You're gonna have to help, dude."
Mr Way's eyes flicked up to Frank's and he looked surprised, like he hadn't
expected to have to do anything, and suddenly the air in the room was far
thicker than it had any right to be. Frank faced front again as Mr Way stepped
closer and reached out, pulse thundering through his ears as he breathed in and
out, in and out. Focus on your breathing, Frank. Be cool.
Frank startled a little when he felt Mr Way's fingers on the tape, and Mr Way
pulled his hand back, an apology immediately falling from his lips.
"No, s'okay, sorry, just surprised me. Your hands are cold." Frank lied.
"Sorry," Mr Way apologised again softly, and blew on his fingers, rubbing his
hands together to warm them. When he touched the next time Frank was ready for
it, and didn't move a muscle.
Carefully, Mr Way peeled back the tape around three sides of the bandage.
Frank's skin tingled everywhere Mr Way's fingers brushed, and he knew it wasn't
just because it was over-sensitive around his new tattoo. After what felt like
an age, Mr Way eased the bandage back, and Frank realised Mr Way had been
holding his breath when he let it out in one go, the air ghosting across
Frank's back in a rush. His dick twitched, interested, and Frank willed it
away, focusing on keeping his breathing calm and even instead of the intimacy
of their situation.
"Oh, Frankie..."
This was not helping Frank's problem at all.
Frank could feel Mr Way's fingers hovering, could feel his arm moving like he
was... like he was tracing the design in the air above Frank's tender skin. It
was intoxicating, so close to being touched, and Frank felt his breathing slow
even more. He let his head fall forward, eyes drifting closed as he relaxed
into it.
After many long, long moments, Frank felt Mr Way's fingers, just around the
outside of the tattoo, careful not to touch anywhere inked or inflamed. Mr Way
was so close that Frank could feel each of his breaths, and goosebumps rose up
underneath the pads of his fingers. Mr Way didn't seem to notice, didn't say a
word as he traced around the outside of the tattoo, and Frank couldn't help
himself focusing in on those gentle touches, everything else slipping away into
nothing around him.
Frank didn't know how much time passed like that, only knew the warmth of Mr
Way's breath on his skin and his fingers trailing, stroking, but distantly he
heard his name and realised the warmth was gone. Frank opened his eyes, the
room too bright, and there was Mr Way in front of him, concern written all over
his face. Frank felt too warm and floaty to even wonder what he was worried
about, though, and just leaned his face into Mr Way's palm when it appeared by
his cheek.
"Oh, Jesus." He heard Mr Way say, "Shit, fuck, shit. Frank, Frankie, you- I-
shit."
Dimly, Frank realised Mr Way was panicking. He wanted to help, really, but he
felt so cosy, so relaxed, so safe, and Frank's brain didn't really want to get
his body involved in that whole ~moving~ thing. Frank could feel hands on his
arms, guiding him, then there was a chair and something warm that smelled
really good around his shoulders. He buried his nose in it and breathed deeply,
wondering what could possibly smell so good. Then there was something touching
his chin, and fingers again, fingers on his jaw, and Mr Way was saying
something, Frank just had to focus...
"-ink, Frankie, come on, just drink this for me, okay?"
Oh, right. Frank opened his mouth and Mr Way eased his head back to help him
sip from the cup. Water. It was good, cold, felt nice on his throat, and Frank
kept swallowing until Mr Way took it away. The cold was pulling Frank out of
his little cocoon, and although he didn't really want to go, the room began to
swim back into focus around him. Mr Way was stroking Frank's hair away from his
face, and Frank pressed into it like a cat, humming happily.
"Frankie?" Mr Way asked gently, his hand a constant, light pressure on Frank's
scalp.
Frank hummed again, then pried his eyelids open, squinting against the
sunlight. "Yeah?" He asked, voice scratching, and he coughed and swallowed.
"Oh, thank God." Mr Way's hand stilled, then he was tilting Frank's face up
with both hands on his cheeks, and he was right there staring into Frank's
eyes, looking, searching. Frank blinked back at him.
Mr Way must have found whatever he was looking for, because he stood after
that, and Frank shivered, clutching the, the jacket, he realised, tighter
around his shoulders. Mr Way's jacket. Man, it smelled good. Frank resisted the
urge to stuff his face into it, and flushed as he remembered that he'd already
done it. Somewhere amongst whatever the hell that was, his clothes had been
fixed and the bandage had been taped back in place. He could feel the tape
pulling against his skin.
"That was weird." He said out loud, shaking his head to chase away the last of
the cobwebs.
Mr Way was starting to look terrified again. "Frank, oh God, I'm so sorry. I
never- I didn't mean- You-" He was fumbling, one hand tugging at his hair while
the other gestured towards Frank.
Frank just frowned, half amused. "Chill the fuck out. What?"
Mr Way made an anguished sound, clearly pretty torn up. "I didn't mean to-" He
gestured again wildly. "Oh God. That was a total abuse of trust!"
"Woah woah woah." Frank held up both hands in front of him. "I'm sorry?"
"Not of my trust, Frank! Yours! I totally- I might as well have fucking- oh
Jesus Christ, I'm such a- a monster." Yep, Mr Way was totally freaking out. "If
I'd known, I swear, I would have never- If I'd known-"
"Dude," Frank started, then when Mr Way didn't stop babbling, he repeated it
again, louder. "Dude! Shut up!"
Mr Way shut his mouth so fast Frank heard it.
"What the fuck are you talking about?! What the hell was that?" Frank snapped.
"Frank," Mr Way said, eyes distraught, "I swear I didn't know. I would never
have done that, not if I'd known, and I fucking shouldn't have anyway, but I
just, I didn't know, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were,
y'know..."
"Didn't know I was fucking what?!" Frank demanded, still none the wiser. Sure,
it was weird going all fuzzy like that, but he'd been comfortable and good and
why the fuck was Mr Way so fucking freaked out by it anyway?
"I didn't know you were a sub!" Mr Way burst out. "I should never have abused
your trust like that, oh God, oh God-" He was pacing now, both hands pushing
his hair up all over the place, and Frank started to see through the clouds,
temper flaring up.
"A sub? You think I'm- you think I'm some fucking freak? What the fuck!"
Mr Way paused in his verbal tirade of self-abuse.
"You think I want to be, to be fucking beaten or something?!" Frank was fuming
now. " You actually think I get off on being abused?"
Mr Way flinched like Frank had punched him in the gut. "Frankie, no, that's
not-"
"Don't fucking Frankie me, what the actual fuck, Gerard. I'm not fucking, like,
like that, Jesus Christ-"
"Frank!" Mr Way broke out his teacher voice now, and it gave Frank pause. "That
is not what I meant."
Frank just glared at him, and Mr Way came to stand in front of his desk.
Belatedly, Frank realised he'd been sitting in Mr Way's chair.
"Being a sub isn't about being abused, Frank, that's not the point."
"Then what the fuck is the point?" Frank asked, trying his best not to pout. He
was still mad, but cooling off rapidly now his brain had caught up with what,
exactly, they were talking about. Sex.
Mr Way smiled gently. "It's about trust. Frankie, being a sub isn't... it's not
messed up, or freaky, or weird. It's about trusting your partner so much to
take care of you, to only do things they know you'll enjoy. It's about closing
off from the rest of the world for a little while, from yourself, even. It's
about relaxing so completely that someone else has to do the thinking for you."
Oh. Frank was calming down pretty quickly now.
"So..." He started, still trying to get his thoughts in order, then added
pointlessly, "Right."
"Frank, are you telling me you've never..." Mr Way paused, then seemed to
rethink. "Have you ever gone under like that before?"
"Gone under?" Frank repeated dumbly, and Mr Way nodded gently.
Mr Way was making a lot of sense, though. When Frank had, as Mr Way had phrased
it, gone under, Frank had felt totally safe and comfortable, had been so pliant
he probably would have... "I would have... I would have done anything." He said
out loud, awed and a little scared. He could see how dangerous that could be,
if that trust was put in the wrong hands.
And Mr Way had been so good to him, had known just what to do to bring him
back... Frank was falling a little more in love at the same time as he was
getting worked up wondering just how Mr Way had learned how to deal with that
situation. Had Mr Way been the other half of such a relationship before? Or was
he like Frank, a sub, but one who knew how to take care of himself, of others
like him?
Unaware of Frank's internal tangles, Mr Way just nodded. "That's why it's
important to only show that side of yourself with partners you trust
completely. There are people out there who... Who are not very nice. And
Frankie, you should always, always have a safe word. Something you can say to
tell your partner you want to stop, no matter what. Something unique, and
memorable. 'No' and 'stop' don't always cut it, because..." Mr Way sniffed
awkwardly, then forged ahead, "Because sometimes saying 'No' and 'stop' is part
of the fun."
Something stirred in Frank's belly, and he shifted uncomfortably in the chair,
fiddling with the corner of Mr Way's jacket. The leather was softer under his
fingertips than it looked, well worn and beaten up like Mr Way had had it for a
long time.
The bell rang in the corridor, signalling the start of Frank's first lesson,
but neither of them made a move to go anywhere. Frank remembered from that
first Monday that Mr Way didn't have a lesson first period.
"How old are you, Mr Way?" Frank asked eventually, voice quiet as he focused on
smoothing over the jacket in small, even strokes.
"Twenty-four." Mr Way replied.
Twenty-four. The jacket couldn't be as old as it looked, then. Just well loved,
maybe. "Have you ever... y'know. Been with someone like that?" Someone like me,
he didn't say. This is absolutely not the direction he'd thought they'd end up
heading in when he'd rushed in early to show Mr Way his tattoo this morning.
Mr Way didn't answer for a long moment, and Frank almost stepped in and took it
back, but just as he was about to open his mouth, Mr Way spoke up.
"Yes."
Frank nodded, eyes fixed on Mr Way's jacket. He slipped into it, just to feel
the way the leather moved. It was a little long in the arm, but Frank liked the
way it covered his hands.
"You should probably get to class." Mr Way said softly, and Frank nodded again,
only half-listening. Mr Way's jacket was so warm, and not at all constricting
like Frank had thought it would be. There was the scratching of a pen on paper,
and Mr Way slid a signed yellow slip under his nose.
Frank stuffed it in his pocket and pushed himself up using the arms of the
chair. He went to slide the jacket off his shoulders, but Mr Way waved a hand
at him.
"Keep it. Just for today, I mean. After... What happened, you might, um. You
might be cold. You can bring it tomorrow." He paused, chewing on his bottom
lip. Frank instantly wanted to soothe the sting he knew would be there. "If
you're still coming, I mean."
Frank nodded. "Sure, um. Thanks. For everything." He gestured between them
eloquently, then stopped and wrapped himself up in the jacket instead.
"Franki- Frank..." Mr Way took a step closer, but made no move to close the
distance between them any more. "I really am sorry, about that. I never meant
for that to happen. I should never have let myself get so... close. To a
student. I'm sorry."
To a student. Frank's heart sank, and he shook his head violently, trying to
sound as normal as possible. This was definitely a step in the wrong direction.
"S'no big deal, not your fault. 'Sides, if we weren't friends," he said
carefully, shrugging as nonchalantly as he could manage, "it probably
wouldn't've happened, y'know? I trust you."
Something flashed across Mr Way's face, but it was gone before Frank could
catch it. Not wanting to push his luck, Frank grabbed his backpack off the
floor where he must have dumped it earlier, and grinned. Maybe it was a little
forced. Maybe Mr Way wouldn't notice.
"Thanks for the note, Mr Way."
Frank waved at Mr Way's still figure over his shoulder, and slipped out the
door.
---
Ray was less than impressed when Frank joined them at lunch.
"Dude, where were you this morning?! Mikey and I waited at your locker to see
the new tat but you never showed."
"Sorry," Frank said, probably not sounding sorry at all. "I went to see Mr
Way."
Mikey groaned and stuck his fingers in his ears, so Frank kicked him in the
shins.
"Shut up, asshole. I had to show him first, he drew it for me!"
"No fuckin' way did he," Ray said. and Mikey raised an eyebrow.
"He didn't tell me."
Frank stuck his tongue out. "What, does your brother tell you everything he
does?"
Mikey shrugged. "Pretty much."
Frank just scoffed. "You guys are such losers."
"Whatever."
Frank grinned, suddenly excited all over again, and carefully slipped his arms
out of the leather jacket, then pulled off his hoodie and yanked up his shirt.
"Check it out!"
Ray shuffled around to see, carefully peeling back the bandage, and whistled
lowly. "Dude. That's sick."
"I know right?!" Frank exclaimed, "That's what I said!"
"Woah." said Mikey, the most expressive he'd been all morning. "Gerard totally
drew that for you."
"Told you!"
"Frank." Mikey said, his name heavy with, with something. He was staring really
hard at the jacket spread across Frank's lap, and Frank widened his eyes in a
mocking impression.
"Frank." Mikey said again. "Where did you get that jacket."
It wasn't really a question, because Frank was pretty sure Mikey knew where it
had come from, but he answered anyway, shit-eating grin plastered across his
face.
"Your brother."
Mikey groaned again. "I seriously don't want to know."
"Probably not." Frank agreed happily.
Mikey just threw his juice box at Frank's head, so he couldn't be that mad.
Chapter End Notes
     I hope you guys are enjoying this! Please don't be scared to comment,
     I don't bite :D Let me know if there's a particular direction you
     want this to go in, or a particular encounter you'd like to see. I
     haven't really got a plan yet so it could go anywhere right now.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Summary
     Things get interesting, and Frank is a little shit.
Chapter Notes
     I went back and fixed some dodgy formatting in the previous chapter,
     and added a small chunk that seemed to have gone missing!
     (About half way through, there's a song... this_one, if you want to
     listen along as you read. Gah, I love it )
See the end of the chapter for more notes
It took Frank another two weeks to convince Mikey to have them over again, and
in the end he only agreed because Frank promised to spend more time with him
and Ray than he would with his brother. Which he had totally done last time,
what the hell!
So, exactly two weeks before Frank's birthday (he might have been counting
down. Eighteen was a big one, okay!), he and Ray were busy discovering all the
ways they could shoot/strangle/snipe/blow up Mikey's game character. Mikey was
complaining, but he was still playing, so Frank figured they had a few more
rounds before he got pissy and gave up yet.
Mr Way had come home an hour or so earlier and Frank hadn't seen him since, but
just as Frank was thinking that, Mr Way's fire-truck red head poked around the
door into the lounge
"Pizza?"
Frank grinned up at him and Mikey threw down his controller. "Best. Brother.
Ever." Frank make a triumphant, crowing sound and Mikey scrabbled to scoop it
up again before Frank could rack up another hit against them. They were
possibly the worst scoring team any of them had ever seen, probably because
killing your own isn't the point, as Mikey was so fond of reminding them. Eh,
details.
Frank had returned Mr Way's jacket on the Tuesday as agreed, and neither of
them had brought up Frank's little moment. They'd gone on as they had before,
organising things that really didn't need organising any more and talking about
just about anything else that cropped up, but had very carefully skirted the
subject of Frank's sexuality and Mr Way's admission.
"Oh!" He remembered suddenly, chasing Mikey's character into an abandoned
warehouse. "Get back here, asshole! So we have a gig tomorrow. You guys should
totally come."
Mr Way looked up from where he was thumbing through takeout menus. "Gig?"
Frank was busy trying to see if he could saw off Mikey's leg - in game, of
course - with the kitchen knife he'd acquired, so Ray filled in for him.
"Frank's band."
"Dude, it's not my band." Frank insisted. "Mikey, Jesus, would you stay still!"
"It's totally his band." Ray told Mr Way, and Mr Way made a choked, offended
noise.
"What the hell, Frankie! You never told me you were in a band!"
Mikey raised both eyebrows at the nickname. Frank had grown so used to hearing
it that he'd almost forgotten it was new to his friends.
"You never asked." He said offhandedly, still staring at the television screen.
Mr Way made another one of those noises, and if Frank closed his eyes - which
he wouldn't - but if he did, he could imagine exactly how the same noise would
sound with Mr Way flat on his back. Or up against a wall... Or on his hands and
knees... Nghhh.
"We've been hanging out for weeks!" Mr Way interrupted, "And talking about
music! And you didn't think to mention it?!"
Frank shrugged. Mr Way made a slightly different, strangled sound, and
disappeared into the kitchen with the phone and his pile of takeout menus.
Frank could feel his friends' eyes on him, burning into his skull, questions
hanging heavy in the air around them. They were silent for long enough that
Frank had just started to hope they weren't going to say anything, but then Ray
tore his hopes to shreds.
"Dude."
"Dude." Frank said.
"Dude." Ray said again, and Mikey used the distraction to snatch Frank's game
controller.
"Hanging out?" Ray asked pointedly, and Mikey was quick to back him up.
"You're close enough with my brother for him to yell at you? He's scared of
everyone."
Frank shrugged again. "We're, like, friends."
"Friends." Ray repeated. "With a teacher."
"Hey, he's Mikey's brother." Frank defended. "He's a person."
Mikey poked Frank hard in the ribs. "Yeah, a person who is also your teacher,"
he hissed, "And my brother. It's weird."
"It's not weird!"
"It's totally weird." Ray said, and Frank shoved at him. "A teacher who you
have a giant freaking crush on."
"Shut up!" Frank exclaimed, probably a little too loud, "It's not weird!"
"What's not weird?" Mr Way asked suddenly, dropping the landline back into its
cradle, and Frank just about had a heart attack.
Yep, too loud.
"Nothing!" Frank said hurriedly, and Mikey rolled his eyes.
Mr Way frowned at Mikey's eyeroll, and Frank watched as Mikey's eyebrows did
something new. Mr Way's cheek twitched in response, and Mikey pursed his lips.
"God, Mikes." Mr Way said out loud, then shoved his arms into his jacket and
scooped up his keys before heading out the door.
There was a long silence before Ray spoke up.
"What just happened?"
Mikey shrugged one shoulder. "Gee knows about Frank's crush."
"What?!" Frank exclaimed, then again, "What?! How could you possibly know
that?!"
"He just said."
"He did not!"
"He did."
"Ugh!" Frank grumbled, throwing his hands up in the air. Mikey fuckin' Way.
"Mikey fuckin' Way." Was the most impossible fucker Frank knew. Unfortunately,
he knew from experience that Mikey was probably right. Mikey was always right,
little bastard.
By the time Mr Way returned with pizza, they had moved on and were half way
through the worst zombie flick they'd been able to find in the Way's extensive
collection of terrible horror movies. Mikey had produced beer from the fridge,
which had apparently been purchased ahead of time this time - presumably so Mr
Way could deny all knowledge of any minors drinking it if confronted - and
Frank was sprawled across his favourite couch with one of Mrs Way's afghans
over his knees. Shut up, he was totally punk and hardcore. And also chilly.
Mr Way grabbed a can of beer from their stash on the coffee table and dumped
the pizza boxes on the floor. Then he seemed to notice the television.
"Shit, are you guys watching Redneck Zombies? Oh man, I love this movie. It's
so awful!" His face lit up like a kid at Christmas, and Frank would have done
anything just then to see that face again. "Right, anyway," He replied to
himself, tearing off the lid of one of the pizza boxes and piling a few slices
on top. "I'm just going to take my beer and my pizza, and go... elsewhere. Have
fun breaking the law, kids!"
"No!" Frank burst out, probably a little louder than he'd intended.
Mikey scoffed but otherwise ignored him, mouth already full of pizza and eyes
on the screen as some chick got torn limb from limb.
Mr Way shot Frank a look, and Frank schooled his features into something a
little more 'normal'.
"You don't have to disappear, I mean. Like, if you like the movie, you can
always watch. We don't care."
Mikey sniggered and Frank almost, almost kicked him in the back of the head.
Later, he promised himself. Frank pulled his feet up, leaving the other side of
the couch very, very open. Mr Way didn't seem about to go for it, but Frank
wheedled carefully for a few more minutes and Ray added his own token
encouragement (just to piss Mikey off, Frank was sure) and eventually Mr Way
seemed to give in. To his charms, Frank was sure.
"Okay, okay, but only for the rest of this movie. Then I have work to do. Like,
marking and shit."
"How do you even mark artwork?" Mikey asked around his pizza.
"Fucked if I know." Mr Way admitted, and Frank snorted on his beer and promptly
choked. Mr Way thumped him on the back a few times, and when Frank could wheeze
in a breath on his own he shot him a halfhearted thumbs up.
"M'good," he rasped, swallowing. "Thanks."
Mr Way smiled happily and settled down in the most obviously available spot,
which just so happened to be right next to Frank on the couch. Convenient.
Testing out a theory, Frank waited until Mikey and Ray had turned back to the
movie, then shucked his hoodie and dumped it on the floor. He watched out of
the corner of his eye as Mr Way's gaze gravitated up his arms, then stretched,
putting his ink on display, and Mr Way's Adam's apple bobbed prominently.
Frank was totally smirking inside.
As they worked their way through the pizza and can after can of beer, Frank
began to feel pleasantly buzzed. He could tell the others were too, because Ray
was getting more verbal in his opinions and Mikey was getting even quieter. Mr
Way ended up working his way through more than a couple of beers followed by a
few Jack and Cokes, and stayed for more than one movie, because they'd put on
The Fellowship of the Ring next. Mr Way was well on his way to being very, very
drunk, and Frank was learning just how much Mr Way loved Tolkien. Geez, it's
like Mr Way was made for him, seriously. They spent the first half of the movie
quoting along with each other until Ray yelled (as much as Ray could yell) at
Frank (because Ray would never yell at a teacher, no matter how drunk he was)
to shut the fuck up and Mikey threw some cold pizza toppings at them. Frank
would have carried on just to piss them off, but yay pizza! For his belly!
Frank could admire Mr Way mostly uninhibited like this, because he was
completely engrossed in the movie and nobody else cared. Drunk Mr Way was a lot
more loose and relaxed than Frank was used to seeing, face open and soft in the
dark with the light from the television shining in his eyes, mouth moving
slowly along with the dialogue. Beautiful.
Towards the end of Fellowship, Mikey was flagging, dozing quietly in front of
the coffee table (loser was totally getting a Sharpie moustache later) and Ray
had started noodling on the acoustic he'd brought. Excited to jam after the
last time, Frank pulled out his own and cradled it lovingly in his lap, fingers
smoothing reverently over the strings before he fell into step next to Ray.
Every now and then, Ray would pause to scribble something down in his notebook,
and when he did Frank picked up the slack, only to melt into the background
again when Ray started back up. Frank was no idiot, Ray was a master and there
was no way he was going to fight him for dominance.
Mr Way just sat very, very still, and Frank could feel his eyes on him the
whole time. It made his skin tingle and burn pleasantly, and Frank did his
absolute best to keep his eyes on his guitar.
"You guys are fantastic..." Mr Way said softly, but his eyes were on Frank. Ray
was off in his own little world, and Frank just smiled, meeting Mr Way's eyes
for just a moment then looking away when he felt his chest start to swell.
Eventually, Ray segued into something recognisable, and Frank followed along
behind him like a puppy through Metallica, The Misfits, some Sex Pistols and a
Bob Dylan. Mikey had disappeared off to bed between Dig Up Her Bones and
Anarchy in the UK. Then, Ray picked out a few timeless notes, and Frank's heart
squeezed tightly. God, this song. He felt his eyes close as he played alongside
Ray, mouth moving silently along with the first few words before he was adding
soft vocals to it.
"...that David played, and it pleased the Lord."
Frank heard Mr Way's sharp intake of breath, but he was caught up in the song
now, this song, something about this song just touched him right in the core.
Frank dropped his head back, words falling from his mouth and notes falling
from his fingers without a thought, letting the music carry him, lift his soul
and curl around him in an embrace. He gathered momentum as the song went on,
easing the passion and pain he felt into it more with every word.
"...She tied you to a kitchen chair, she broke your throne and she cut your
hair, and from your lips she drew the Hallelujah..."
Suddenly there was another voice joining his, softly softly, but very much
there, and Frank cracked an eyelid to see Mr Way's lips moving, eyes closed and
looking just as lost in the song as Frank felt. Frank closed his own eyes again
and carried on, growing quieter and fading out as Mr Way grew in confidence,
and God, his voice. Smooth and beautiful in a way Frank knew his own would
never be, but occasionally he'd hit a particularly emotive part and his voice
would catch over the words, and there was a gruffness hiding underneath like Mr
Way could really scream if he wanted to. Fuck...
They reached the last verse, and fuck if it wasn't Frank's favourite. He picked
up the vocal thread again, singing along with Mr Way, and blinked his eyes open
slowly to see Mr Way looking right back at him as they sang.
"Maybe there's a God above, but all I've ever learned from love-"
Shit, they sounded good together. Frank could feel Ray watching them, pulled
out of his bubble, but Frank couldn't look away from Mr Way, from his eyes, so
full of everything Frank was feeling himself, the joy, the devastation, the
loneliness of this fucking song.
"It's a cold-" Frank felt his voice crack, wetness gathering in the corners of
his eyes, but he didn't stop, and neither did Mr Way. "And it's a broken
Hallelujah..." Frank felt the tears start to slide down his cheeks, but
blinking them away only made them come harder. He couldn't tell if Mr Way's
eyes were shining too, or if it just looked that way, but his voice was smooth
and sure as they finished the song, Frank's fingers stilling on the strings and
the last Hallelujah trailing off between them into silence.
Frank swallowed, but didn't look away.
Mr Way didn't look away either.
Frank couldn't stop his eyes flickering down to Mr Way's mouth, soft and half
open, and as he looked he saw Mr Way's tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip.
Fuck.
"Uh..." Ray said quietly, but Mr Way didn't seem to notice he was even there.
"I'm gonna... Yeah." Frank heard the stairs creak, but didn't, couldn't, look
away from Mr Way's eyes.
There was no way Frank was misreading this. Mr Way seemed closer than before,
so much closer...
Tentatively, Frank reached out with one hand and gently, so gently, not wanting
to upset the delicate balance they had right now, tucked a loose strand of red
hair behind Mr Way's ear. Mr Way leaned into the touch and Frank took that as
the sign he was looking for. He shifted forward that final few inches, eyes
drifting closed, lips parting just so, and he was right there, so close he
could feel Mr Way's breath against his face-
Until a finger pressed against his mouth.
Frank's eyes fluttered open, confused, only to find Mr Way staring straight
back at him, one finger up to keep their mouths apart.
"Frank..." Mr Way whispered, voice breaking, "Stop."
Frank's heart fell, all the breath crushed out of him, and he slumped. Of
course, of course Mr Way wouldn't be attracted to him. But he was so sure he
was reading things right...
"I-" Frank started, but Mr Way shook his head.
"We can't, Frankie." Oh God, Frankie, that always sounded so good coming from
Mr Way's mouth.
"I'm sorry," Frank got out in a whispered rush. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean- I
thought- I- I'm sorry. I misunderstood, I'm so fucking sorry." The floor could
open up and swallow him any time now, thanks very much.
Frank rubbed his hands over his face, wishing he could wipe away the flush like
he could wipe away the drying tears. Mr Way just smiled reassuringly and
stroked a hand over Frank's stained cheek before moving back, away. Frank
missed him immediately.
"Drink?" He asked, and barely waited for Mr Way to nod his head before he'd run
away into the kitchen. He maybe filled the glasses with more Jack than Coke
this time, but getting wasted seemed like a great way to forget his
humiliation, and when Frank handed one glass over, Mr Way took a long sip and
didn't bat an eyelid.
Mr Way had put on Two Towers while Frank fetched the drinks, and by the end of
the movie, both of them were pretty much wasted. The credits were rolling on
screen, but neither Frank nor Mr Way got up to change the movie, or turn it
off. Frank's head was buzzing pleasantly, and he knew from experience that he
was about half a drink away from that place where his skin started to feel too
tight and his tongue ran away with him.
"I'm sorry, Frankie." Mr Way said softly, and Frank jumped.
When Mr Way didn't continue for a long moment, Frank opened his mouth to fill
the silence, but he didn't need to.
"Frank, please, please don't feel like you're... Like you're not good enough,
okay, I can see it all over your face, so please don't..." Mr Way ran a wobbly
hand over his face, so very, very drunk, sentences running on and on, words
fumbling together, but trying his best to keep it together.
"It's okay," Frank offered, trying to take that pained look away and not sound
petulant at the same time. "I get it, I'm just a punk kid, and you're, fuck,
you're you. I shouldn't have assumed you'd go for... yeah."
"Oh, Frankie," Mr Way sighed, reaching out to touch but thinking better of it
and pulling his hand back. "Don't do this to yourself. You're very, uh,
attractive, 'kay, absolutely good enough to have anyone you want, s'nothing
wrong with you at all but I should never've let you get that impression, I
should never've started drinking, and that's no excuse, course it isn't. I
guess, like, what'm tryin'a say is that it was completely my fault, nothin' you
did- you did nothin' wrong, okay, it's nothing wrong with you. Mikey said, so I
sorta knew that you, yeah, and you, um... you didn't, um. Misread, like. Um."
"I..." Frank blinked, stupid, as he processed all that. Didn't misread...
Wait... "Really?"
Mr Way turned a pretty shade of red. "Frank, you... You are lovely, so lovely,
but no matter how lovely I think you are, nothin' can ever happen like that,
okay, I'm older-"
Frank scoffed at that. "Barely."
Mr Way just continued over him. "I'm older, I'm your fuckin' teacher, there's
somethin' very wrong about that, and you're lovely but it's my job, Frankie,
never mind that you're fuckin' seventeen and I could get fuckin' arrested..."
Mr Way curses a lot when he's drunk, Frank thought idly. And maybe it was the
amount of alcohol he'd ingested, maybe it was the way Mr Way was still running
his mouth and Frank just wanted to shut him up. Maybe it was the way Mr Way was
still looking at him like that, all heated and fuck, fucking gorgeous, along
with the admission that he liked Frank, really liked him, but later on Frank
wouldn't be able to put his finger on exactly what drove him to do what he did.
"S'only a problem if you touch."
Mr Way carried on for a moment, then seemed to realise what Frank had said and
stopped abruptly. Frank watched a myriad of expressions float across his face,
and let a hand drift down his stomach to rest on his belt buckle.
"I want you." He admitted bravely - what the hell, it's not like it was a
secret - trailing his fingertips left and right across his belt. "You want me.
Problem: I'm not eighteen for another two weeks."
Mr Way's mouth worked soundlessly. Frank slowly unhooked his belt from the
buckle and kept talking. "Solution: keep your hands to yourself. Anyone ever
finds out? Which they won't, because I'm not fucking telling them, but if
anyone did, well. It's dark. You're wasted, maybe you passed out. I'm young,
raging hormones. Couldn't wait to get to the bathroom. Thought it would be hot
to do it where my teacher could wake up and catch me. What the fuck ever. But
who the fuck's gonna find out?" Frank popped the button and eased his zipper
down, felt his cock beginning to swell in promise under his hand. Maybe he was
already past that point of drunk where his mouth ran away from him.
Still, Mr Way didn't say a word. Eventually, he met Frank's eyes, and shit, he
looked hungry. Fucking starved.
Frank pressed his hand down over his dick and hissed at how good it felt to do
this with Mr Way's eyes on him. It was a rush like nothing he'd felt before -
and Frank was seventeen - he'd jerked off a lot.
"Frank-" Mr Way choked out and Frank purposely exaggerated his breathing so Mr
Way could see his chest heaving. "Frank, what are you doing..."
"Gerard," Frank whispered, watching as Mr Way visibly jerked. He pressed his
palm over the curve of his dick, grasping through the denim. "Gerard, please."
Mr Way leaned in closer, the movement seemingly involuntary, eyes so wide that
Frank could see the whites all around the outside.
Frank tilted his head back to lean against the cushion and let his other hand
snake up underneath his shirt to skirt across a nipple. The motion brought his
swallows into view and he saw how powerless Mr Way was in the face of his ink.
"Gerard." Frank sighed out, and Mr Way, apparently drunk enough to get on board
with this idea, seemed to lose the last thread of his control.
"God, Frank," Mr Way grated out, whisper-soft."If you were a few years older...
Fuck. If I wasn't your fuckin' teacher... the things I'd do to you..." Mr Way's
eyes were everywhere, flitting between Frank's hand on his dick, his tattoos,
his face, and everything in between.
"Yeah? Tell me." Frank moaned, a little bit fake but Mr Way didn't seem to
notice. Instead his mouth dropped open and he watched, enraptured, and Frank
pushed his shirt up higher so that Mr Way could see his hand tugging at his
nipple.
Mr Way groaned, tipping his head back, still watching Frank with lidded eyes,
and Frank mouth watered with how badly he wanted to sink his teeth into that
long, pale throat.
"Fuck, wouldn't even know where to start." Mr Way's voice had gone all low and
fucking hot, and holy shit, this was how he talked to the people he fucked.
Frank almost came in his pants at the thought. Oblivious to Frank yanking
himself back from the edge, Mr Way just carried on talking, as always. "Your
tattoos, Jesus Christ. Wanna taste them, lick all over those fuckin' birds,
feel you squirm for me. Bet you'd feel so good underneath me, Frankie."
"Shit," Frank gasped, pressing a palm against his dick, hard enough to pound
nails. He slipped a hand underneath his boxers and groaned in relief as he
finally got a hand around his cock. Mr Way licked his lips, and Jesus Christ,
Frank knew that look.
"Fuck, Gerard," Frank said, eyes drifting closed, "'M so fuckin' hard for you,
shit. Bet you'd love a taste, right? Fuck. I'd love to feel your fuckin' throat
open up around my cock."
Mr Way flat-out whimpered at that, and Frank tugged his eyes open to see that
Mr Way had one hand between his legs, pressing down, and one finger of the
other tracing along his bottom lip. Fuck yeah, he wanted it.
"Frankie, Jesus, you have no fuckin' idea. Just look at you, so fuckin'
gorgeous, all spread out for me like a fuckin' feast. Wanna get you naked so I
can really see you, see all of you, taste you-" Mr Way broke off to moan, and
Frank must have missed something there because Mr Way had his pants open and
his hand shoved inside his underwear now.
Not wanting to be left behind, Frank shoved his boxers out of the way so he
could jerk himself properly, and Mr Way choked on whatever he was about to say
next.
"Your voice, fuck." Frank's voice cracked but he couldn't find it in him to
care, "Keep talking, please, keep fuckin' talking."
"Fuck," Mr Way moaned, eyes burning like fire into Frank's skin. "Feels so
good, Frankie. Shit, look at you, shit, wish I could suck you off, feel your
dick on my tongue, taste it... Such a pretty fuckin' cock, God."
Jesus Christ, Mr Way had a filthy mouth. Frank fucking loved it.
"God, Frank, when you went under like that in my classroom... So fuckin' easy,
just slipped away right in front of me, like it was fuckin' nothing... You were
so fuckin' gorgeous, spaced out and pliant, would've done fuckin' anything I
asked you to, would've sucked my dick if I'd asked you, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," Frank gasped out, "Yes, fuck, I would've, would've done anything for
you. Wanted you so bad, this whole time, fuck. Wouldn't need to get me under to
make me get you off, just had to ask and I would've, any time, fuck, I
would've. Still would, want you so bad-"
"Shiiiiit." Mr Way's hand was moving so fast now, matching the speed with which
Frank was stripping his dick stroke for stroke, and fuck if that wasn't the
hottest thing Frank had ever seen. Like they were jerking each other off. He
said as much out loud, and Mr Way stuffed three fingers into his mouth, biting
off his cry around them.
Mr Way, whose hips were working against his hand now, who was pulling his
fingers free, all three of them shining in the dim light, and whose mouth was
decidedly not shutting up.
"Wanna put you under, just like that time in my classroom, put you under so
deep and pin you down, shit, tie you up and leave my marks all over you, wanna
see my fingerprints on your hips and my teeth marks all over your throat, mark
you up just like all those fuckin' tattoos, fuck."
Frank practically choked on his tongue at that, and felt his orgasm building
rapidly from the tips of his toes and the base of his neck. No way he was going
to last with Mr Way mouthing off like that, Jesus fuck.
"Nngh." Frank said eloquently, barely daring to blink in case he missed
something. "Can just imagine what you'd look like with that mouth around my
dick, Jesus Christ. Wanna get that red dye all over my hands."
Mr Way swallowed down another noise, beginning to come apart at the seams.
"Fuck, Frank, want that, want it so bad. Wanna let you fuck my mouth, just wrap
my hair around your fingers and fuckin' do it, shit, wanna feel you come down
my fuckin' throat-."
"Shit, Gerard, oh, shit." Before Frank realised it was happening, he was gone,
white exploding across his vision, shooting all over his fist and his stomach
while Mr Way carried on running his mouth, everything coming out in a tumbled
rush, words spilling over the top of each other as he chased his own orgasm.
"Fuck, Frankie, Frankie, look at you, Jesus, fuckin' covered in come, wanna
taste it, God, wanna fuck you so fuckin' bad, open you up around my cock, oh
shit, Frankie, gonna fuckin' come, oh God, oh, Frank, fuck, fu-uuuck-"
Mr Way stiffened, mouth wide around the most incredible sound Frank had ever
heard, then curled in on himself as he shuddered through it. It seemed to last
forever, and it took every ounce of willpower Frank had to keep his hands to
himself when all he really wanted to do was touch, touch Mr Way's face, his
hair, his hips, just to help ground him and guide him through it and out the
other side.
For the longest moment, the only sound in the room was heavy, panting breaths
and the looping DVD menu music. Frank's stomach was starting to itch, but he
daren't move in case it broke the spell. He just focused on breathing, in and
out, and watched Mr Way doing the same, face hidden behind his hair.
Just when he was sure Mr Way had fallen asleep, the other man shook his hair
out of his face and looked up, catching Frank in his gaze. Suddenly, Frank felt
far more sober than he wanted to, and Mr Way looked much the same.
"Frank," Mr Way started, and Frank hurried to interrupt him.
"If you say that was a mistake, I might have to punch you in the face."
Mr Way looked more than a little taken aback, and God, if that didn't look kind
of ridiculous when one of his hands was still shoved inside his pants. "Frank,
I-"
"In. The. Face." Frank enunciated, and wiped his hand off on his shirt before
zipping himself up. Fuck it all, he'd just told the guy how much he wanted to
suck him off, what's a little extra straight-talking gonna hurt? "Just because
you regret it now doesn't mean it wasn't fucking good."
Mr Way blinked, swallowed. Blinked again. "Uh."
Frank reached behind him and snagged the box of tissues he'd seen sitting on
the side table earlier, tossing a few in Mr Way's direction and taking a few of
his own to dab at his shirt. Probably should have used the tissues first. Oops.
"It was good, right?" Frank asked, as nonchalant as he could manage. "I mean,
you seemed pretty into it, so..."
Mr Way seemed to be struggling with words, but eventually he opened his mouth
and managed to croak a few out. "Yeah... Yeah, I. Was."
Frank just nodded, trying to play it cool, and gestured with his chin. "If you
don't clean up pretty soon you're gonna be pretty uncomfortable.
"Oh, um. Uh. Yeah. Right." Mr Way fumbled, half-turning away from Frank to yank
his hand free and wipe it hurriedly on the tissues in his lap. Frank could
almost watch him putting himself back together and bring the wall down between
them again.
"Frank," Mr Way said again, but it was a little more sure this time, and Frank
didn't interrupt. He sounded pretty sober now, which couldn't really be
possible, but the relaxed, loose look he'd had before was gone. "That... can't
happen again. It shouldn't have happened in the first place, and while I
definitely enjoyed it, and am obviously very attracted to you, it has to be a
one-time thing." Frank opened his mouth, but Mr Way held up a hand and carried
on. "Just because you turn eighteen soon doesn't change the fact that I'm still
your teacher.
Frank just nodded. "Okay."
"Frank, I mean it, we can't-" Mr Way stopped. Clearly hadn't been expecting
Frank to agree so easily. "Oh. Right."
Frank thought he almost sounded a little disappointed.
"I get it, I'm too young, you're too stuffy, sure." Frank said easily. Mr Way
had the grace to look affronted, and Frank grinned. "Really, I get it. But if
you think I'm going to give up now that I know all the bad, bad things you want
to do to me, then you don't know me very well at all."
Mr Way's eyebrows shot up into his hairline, but before he could say anything,
Frank tugged the afghan over himself and curled up to sleep, burrowing into the
cushions.
"Goodnight, Mr Way." Frank said, smiling and closing his eyes to Mr Way's
sputtering.
Chapter End Notes
     Eeeep! Comments, critique? Let me know if you spot any errors too! I
     try and proof read but sometimes things slip through. Please do let
     me know if you're enjoying reading this, it totally makes my day to
     know someone is enjoying my writing! :D <3
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Summary
     Hangovers and shows.
The next morning, Frank stirred awake and immediately wished he hadn't. Fuck.
The sunlight filtering in around the edges of the curtains was evil, every bone
in Frank's body felt like it was throbbing, and he hadn't even sat up yet.
Closing his eyes against the light, Frank burrowed further down into the
cushions, barely restraining himself from tugging the blanket back over his
head. He could hear voices in the kitchen, people clattering around, and after
a long, long minute, Frank's nose twitched. Coffee.
Torn between sleep and the warm deliciousness of good coffee, the latter
eventually won out and Frank heaved himself upright. The room swam, and he
pressed a hand to his forehead with a groan.
"Fuuuuuck."
Besides just about everything hurting - Frank was never drinking again, okay -
his t-shirt was crusted over and sticking to his stomach. Ew. Definitely should
have used the tissues. Frank couldn't help grinning as he thought about the
cause though, fuck, Mr Way was hot, shit. If he didn't feel like absolute
fucking death right now, Frank would totally be getting hard at the memory.
Deciding to solve the shirt problem post-coffee, Frank just tugged the afghan
around his shoulders and shuffled his socked feet into the kitchen.
"Good morning!" Mikey called obnoxiously, voice ringing off the tiles.
"Shut up, fucker." Frank groaned, flopping down at the table next to Ray and
cradling his head in his hands. Something slammed down in front of him. "Ow."
Peeking out through his fingers, Frank saw it was a steaming coffee mug and
quickly did a one-eighty. "Oh man, I love you." He scooped it up and took a
long sip, then swore as it burned his tongue.
Someone snorted and Frank blindly flipped them off.
"Dude," Mikey said, "We didn't drink that much. S'wrong with you?"
Frank groaned again, wondering if inhaling the coffee fumes would be of any
use. "Might've had a few more drinks after you fucked off to bed."
"Looks like more than a few."
Frank shrugged and settled for blowing at his coffee in frustration.
He was half way through his second cup when the door next to the fridge swung
open, and a mussed-looking Mr Way slumped down at the table across from them.
Ray, who had been talking to Mikey about something Frank couldn't bring himself
to care about, suddenly fell silent, and when Frank looked up, his eyes were
darting back and forth between Frank and Mr Way.
"I, uh," Ray said eventually, already edging towards the door, "I should
probably head home."
Mikey wasn't completely stupid, but he did let Ray go without a fuss, then went
upstairs to shower. Frank, starting to feel a little more human, poured another
mug of coffee and slid it across the table to Mr Way, who was already making
adorable little grabby hands at him. Man, fucker was hot and totally freaking
cute.
Mr Way didn't say a word until he'd downed the coffee and Frank had replaced it
with another, then he finally mumbled a quiet, "Thanks."
"You're welcome." Frank grinned, hangover headache already faded to a dull
throb at the base of his skull. Maybe he'd been a little hasty in his decision
never to drink ever again.
Mr Way didn't seem to be recovering as quickly. Frank sympathised, honestly,
but not enough to stop it being hella funny.
"Sleep well?" Frank asked, overly chipper just to grate on Mr Way's nerves.
Mr Way just grunted and laid down face-first on the table, head pillowed on
both arms. Frank sat back down opposite him, pulling the blanket back around
his shoulders, and admired the way Mr Way's long red hair fell across his pale
skin.
"Stop staring at me." Mr Way grumbled into the table, then lifted his head to
take a sip of coffee.
Frank smirked.
"M'allowed to look, right?"
Mr Way sucked in a breath sharply, and choked on his coffee. Frank grinned back
at him and could practically feel the flush radiating from Mr Way's face.
"Frank, please-"
"What?" Frank interrupted, purposely playing dumb.
Mr Way sighed. "You know what I mean, Frank."
"It wasn't a two-way conversation, Gerard. I never agreed to play nice."
"Fuck, Frank, come on, please. God, my fuckin' head... Don't make this any
harder than it is already."
Frank snorted elegantly. "That's not what you were saying last night."
"Gnughhh," Mr Way said.
"That's more like it!"
"Jesus Christ, Frank, do you ever stop? No-" he hurried to say, before Frank
could make another double entendre, "don't even say it."
Frank grinned instead.
Once he'd finished his second cup of coffee, Mr Way shuffled back out and Frank
noticed his pyjama pants. Batman. Too cute, fuck. He assumed that was the last
he was going to see of Mr Way until Tuesday, but he came back a few minutes
later and tossed a black Iron Maiden t-shirt at Frank.
"Just bring it back whenever." He said, and turned to leave.
Frank smiled.
"Thank you." He said softly, and caught a flash of a smile cross Mr Way's face
before he was gone again.
---
"Dude, dude, dude." Frank was bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet,
buzzing with nervous energy. He could hear the crowd chattering and shouting,
laughing as they waited for the show to start, and Frank's skin felt like it
was going to vibrate right off his body.
"Frank, chill, seriously. Sit the fuck down down and shut up for two fucking
seconds."
Frank stuck his tongue out, and Shaun shoved at him until he sat down on a
storage crate.
"Hambone wouldn't make me sit down." He grumbled, and Shaun flipped him off,
but otherwise ignored him.
Frank jittered in place for another minute or so, then jittered off to see if
Neil and Hambone had any beer - they did, score! - then jittered back side-
stage just as Shaun was starting to freak out.
"There you are, Jesus fucking Christ, would it kill you all to be around when
we have to go on? Fuck!"
Frank just chugged the rest of his beer and let Shaun lead them out, grabbing
his guitar and a bottle of water on the way.
He had to adjust the mic stand - fuckers always left it too high - and Frank
caught a few of the kids down at the front snickering at him. He showed them
the finger, then got the rest of the crowd's attention by screaming into the
mic;
"Hey, fuckers! We're Pencey Prep, and we're gonna blow the fuckin' roof of this
place!"
There was a general roar of consensus, and Frank grinned as they launched into
their first song. The crowd were one of their best yet, loud and completely
obnoxious and by the end of the second song, a mosh pit had opened up right in
front of the stage by Frank's feet. No safety barriers in this dive.
It was during 8th Grade that Frank caught sight of Ray's hair, Mikey by his
side, carefully out of range of the mosh pit - Mikey was far too cool to mosh,
loser. Frank was about to grin over at them when he noticed a third person
standing behind Mikey. With flaming red hair.
Frank's fingers slipped, and he fumbled the next few notes. In his peripheral
vision he saw Neil jerk his head in Frank's direction, furrowing his brow
minutely, and with some effort, Frank pulled it back from the edge. In the
pause between that song and the next, while he was chugging down half his
bottle of water, Frank's brain started racing a mile a minute and the panicked
fuck, he came, he came, oh shit was soon replaced with a more self-assured he
came, oh man, he came, I can totally work with this. He spun back towards the
microphone.
"S'that all you pussies have got?!" Frank yelled, ramping it up a notch. His
grin turned nasty when the kids surged forwards and yelled right back, and he
tossed his head. "Come on!"
By P.S. Don't Write, Frank was swealtering, and by the end of Yesterday he'd
lost his white tank. His eyes cut across to Mr Way, who had paused with a beer
half way to his mouth, and Frank smirked to himself. Oh yeah. He tipped the
last of his water over his head, feeling it run down his chest in rivets, then
shook his wet hair out of his eyes with a growl that the mic picked up, and
yeah, yeah, Mr Way was totally looking.
They ripped through the rest of the set, and Frank really lost himself in it,
spinning and throwing himself around the stage when he wasn't screaming it all
out. He gave and gave and gave, and the kids threw it right back in his face,
screaming and slamming up against each other, their energy bouncing off the
walls and lifting Frank higher and higher until he didn't think he'd ever be
able to come back down.
Finally, screaming out their final thanks, it was over, and the five of them
bundled off stage. Frank was leaping on and hanging off whoever was closest,
shouting and cursing and talking a mile a minute, running hot hot hot and
fueled by adrenaline. They didn't bother packing their shit up yet, didn't even
duck into the dingy back room they'd been given - there'd be plenty of time for
all that after beer.
"Guys!" Frank grinned as they drew close, and launched himself at Ray,
clambering up onto his back like a tiny, punk ass monkey. "Guys guys
guysguysguys!"
"Frank." Mikey replied, monotone as ever, but Frank could totally see the spark
in his eyes that meant he'd enjoyed the show. Ray's hair tickled Frank's nose,
and he didn't need to look to know Ray was smiling. The hands batting at him
were just a way of showing his affection, really.
"How much did we kill it?!" Frank went on, cheeks throbbing from smiling so
hard. "How awesome was that?!"
Mikey cracked a tiny smile. "Pretty awesome." Frank's grin got even wider. He
registered Neil and Shaun falling into conversation with Ray over some new bit
of kit, but most of his attention was quickly directed elsewhere.
Mr Way was hanging back from the rest of them, sipping his beer slowly now.
Frank pulled a face and jutted his chin towards him.
"Isn't that warm and gross by now?"
Mr Way startled, like he hadn't expected to be noticed, then shrugged and took
another sip. "S'beer."
Frank nodded in understanding. So true. He'd definitely drunk worse before.
Speaking of beer, there was one hovering right under his nose, and Frank jumped
down off Ray's back to grab it from Hambone's outstretched hand.
"Beer! You're the best!"
"Yeah, yeah," Hambone said easily, "Only two more weeks and you'll be buying."
Frank planted a sloppy kiss on Hambone's cheek and got a palm shoved in his
face in thanks.
"Eurgh, you little fag, get off!"
Frank flinched, but covered himself quickly by bouncing back and licking a
stripe up the side of Hambone's face. He knew Hambone wouldn't care that he
was, but Frank wasn't ready to cross that bridge yet.
"You love me!" He crowed instead, starting to walk away backwards, and blew a
kiss through the air. Hambone just shook his head and flipped him off, which
Frank totally took as a win.
Mr Way was watching him carefully when he turned back around, and Frank sidled
up to him to clink their glasses together.
"You came!" Frank said obviously, leaning back against the wall. What, he'd
worked hard up there, okay, he was totally tired. If it happened to put his ink
on display, well, that was just a happy coincidence.
Mr Way's eyes dipped before shooting back to Frank's face. He took another
drink and Frank watched as he swallowed, eyes sparkling.
"I did." He said eventually, but seemed a little distracted. Frank had no idea
why, honest. He took pity though, mostly because he kind of missed the Mr Way
that talked to him, and glanced down at himself.
"Oh!" Frank said, like he'd just realised. "My fuckin' shirt!" He pushed his
beer into Mr Way's free hand and shoved his way through the kids still hanging
around in front of the stage until he could clamber up just enough to reach.
The tank was sweaty and gross, but Frank pulled it over his head anyway, the
damp cotton clinging to his body. S'not like he wasn't sweaty and gross, too.
"So," he said when he made it back. "How did you enjoy the show?"
"It was great." Mr Way said eventually, passing Frank's beer back, and
gradually, his face lightened. "You guys were great."
Frank's grin crept back as his excitement returned. "Right?!" He exclaimed.
"All those kids, oh my God, and some of them knew the fucking words! To my
songs! Fuckin' A!"
Mr Way grinned, helpless in the face of Frank's enthusiasm, and Frank was glad
they hadn't screwed things up too badly by doing... what they'd done. He'd have
really missed this. It was so easy with Mr Way. Frank could say anything, from
Serious Opinions and Thoughts on stuff to whatever dumb shit popped into his
head, and Mr Way would just smile and go with it, wouldn't rip him to shreds or
mock him. Frank loved his friends, really, and mostly he enjoyed taking their
shit and giving back as good as he got, but that didn't mean it wasn't nice to
have someone he could really talk to.
"The crowd were so into it, Frankie, they fuckin' love you."
Frank laughed self-deprecatingly. "They love the music, man. I'm just the lucky
fucker that gets to play it."
Mr Way shook his head, eyes turning all earnest. Gah. "No, don't write yourself
off so quickly. They wouldn't bend like that for just anyone. You have real
stage presence, Frank, you're a performer. I probably shouldn't, like, be
saying this, as a teacher and all, but. Or maybe I should, I dunno. But you
look like you were born to be up there, Frank."
Frank flushed deeply. Yeah, he loved putting on a show, and yeah, he was always
happiest in the midst of a really good one, but nobody else had ever noticed
that before. Mr Fuckin' Way. It was like the asshole had a little window right
into Frank's head and was determined to make it bigger, pulling away brick by
brick until he knew it all.
"I love it a lot." Frank admitted quietly, staring into his beer now.
"Have you thought about focusing on music after school?" Mr Way asked, coming
to stand next to Frank and lean on the wall beside him from elbow to shoulder,
crossing his legs at the ankles.
Frank shrugged. "Not really. It's just me and my mom, so. I need to get a
proper job."
He could feel Mr Way's eyes on him, but didn't look up from his drink, spinning
the glass slowly in his hands. Frank was just waiting for Mr Way to carry on,
ask him about college and his plans for the future, to delve into things Frank
really didn't want to think about right now.
"That makes sense." Mr Way said instead, and Frank couldn't help himself
looking up. Dude really did have a fucking window into his head.
"You'll keep playing though, right?" Mr Way continued. "I mean, you can have a
job and still play shows."
Frank shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I hope so."
His relief at the change of direction must have shown on his face, because Mr
Way smiled knowingly and drained the last of his beer.
"Me too." He said simply.
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Summary
     Confrontations and heart-to-hearts. Really, it's all goin' on in this
     chapter >_>;
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
"What happened on Friday." Mikey said, before Frank had even sat down. It was
Monday, and it was lunch, and Frank was fucking hungry, okay.
"Your mom." Frank shot back. He was hilarious. "Where's Ray?"
"Out sick, loser. What happened Friday night?" Mikey asked again, and Frank
kept his face as carefully blank as he could. He learned from the best.
"We. Gamed." He said slowly, as if he was talking to a toddler. "We. Jammed.
We. Drank. You were fuckin' there, Mikeyway."
"Fuck off," Mikey grunted, "You know what I fuckin' mean. After I went to bed.
Gee's being weird and Ray was all shifty the whole time on Saturday."
"Your brother's always weird." Frank said. "And how the fuck should I know what
crawled up Ray's ass?"
Mikey slapped Frank's hands where they were digging around for his juice box,
and tugged his bag back into the safety of his arms. "No, fucker, no fucking
juice. Gerard's being weird then he came to your show and he never goes out and
won't tell me fucking anything. So something must have happened."
That was the longest Frank had ever heard Mikey talk for. Dude must be messed.
Up. Frank wasn't so easily distracted into giving up on the juice though.
"What, does your brother tell you fucking everything?" Frank asked, going for
the soft spot between Mikey's bony ribs.
"Yes." said Mikey, then kicked out and got Frank right in the knee.
Fucking ow.
"Ow!" Frank cried, clutching his knee. "Fuck off, nothing happened!"
"What happened!" Mikey said, louder, and wow, Frank had almost forgotten Mikey
had more than one volume.
"I came onto him!" Frank blurted, then followed it up with a, "Fuck!" That was
not what he'd meant to say.
Mikey shifted an eyebrow, and Frank huffed.
"Fucking. Ugh. We got wasted. I came onto him. Got rejected." It wasn't a lie,
not really. "Can you be fucking off now?"
Mikey stared at him for a long moment, but ultimately seemed pacified.
"Gross." Mikey said eventually, and gave Frank his juice.
Frank stuck out his tongue. "Fuck off, your brother's hot."
"Gross." Mikey said again pointedly.
Frank put on a dreamy expression. "But that ass!"
"Fucking... Ugh, you're fuckin' disgusting, Iero."
Mikey got up and stomped off, and Frank grinned around his straw after him.
"Bye Mikey!"
---
Not wanting to push Mr Way too hard, Frank behaved himself for the next week.
The entire week, and Frank was prouder than proud of himself. He'd turned up to
his art lessons on time, sat still and followed instruction like a freakin'
boss. He'd kept their private conversations safe and well, well away from
anything even slightly risqué. He'd even returned Mr Way's shirt, laundered and
folded, without so much as a wink. Mikey might have side-eyed him when he found
out Frank had it, but that wasn't Frank's fault, okay.
And it was good. Things were good. Being Mr Way's friend was probably the best
thing in Frank's life right now. Possibly the second best, but when he tried to
compare Mr Way and the band, he didn't really want to have to pick a winner.
Frank might have been happy with that before, even if Mr Way was fucking hot
shit, but now he knew Mr Way's feelings ran deeper than that and he couldn't
stop thinking about it. Jesus fuck, it was some of the best sex he'd ever had,
and they hadn't even touched each other. Frank had jerked off every night to
the memory, dreamed about it at night, Mr Way's voice ringing in his ears and
his face, soft and open just before he fell apart, burned into the back of
Frank's eyelids.
No fuckin' way could Frank be content with mere friendship after that.
But, Frank behaved and kept all his little comments to himself, even though Mr
Way left himself wide open for it. Really, dude shouldn't be saying things in
class like, "Come on, it's not that hard," and "Here, I'll show you." Even
then, Frank kept quiet, didn't even snigger. Mr Way was finally starting to
relax again, apparently thinking Frank had forgotten about his promise. Which
was precisely why Frank had spent Friday night digging out his skinniest of
skinny jeans and the thinnest, most threadbare white tank top he could find,
and the following Saturday morning playing around with an eyeliner pencil.
Saturday afternoon, however, wasn't so productive. Frank choked and sneezed his
way through most of band practice, throat gradually turning into sandpaper, and
by Sunday Frank thought his head had been stuffed with cotton wool and he was
going to hack up a lung, or a small intestine, or something else equally gross-
but-kinda-awesome-if-it-was-happening-to-someone-else. His mom checked his
temperature Monday morning and made him stay home from school which, hey,
awesome, but by the evening Frank had decided he would have preferred school to
feeling like fucking death. Stupid fucking lungs. He couldn't ever just catch a
cold like a normal fucking kid, it always had to turn into bronchitis, or
fuckin' pneumonia or some shit.
He felt even fucking worse on Tuesday, and curled up under his pile of blankets
with a groan when his mother came in to check on him. His fever hadn't budged
an inch and sweat had matted his hair down and made him feel clammy all over,
but Frank was so, so cold, shivering violently enough to make his teeth
chatter. His mom brought him more blankets and a cup of hot chocolate with tiny
marshmallows floating on the top, and helped Frank prop himself up to drink,
surrounded by pillows. Any other time he'd be luxuriating in it, stretching out
like a cat and burrowing down into the warmth but all Frank really wanted to do
was curl up into a ball and sleep forever.
He must have managed to doze off for a little while, because when he cracked
his eyes open again the shadows on the floor had shrunk back and the sunlight
was stabbing into his head. Frank groaned pitifully and sank back, tugging a
pillow over his head, but immediately his breath got stuck in his throat and
had to shove himself upright and pray the room would stop spinning as he
coughed and coughed and coughed.
Lunch was hot soup, which Frank could barely smell and taste even less of, but
it kind of soothed his throat on the way down so he dutifully slurped it all up
while his mom perched on his desk chair with her own bowl, watching him
carefully. Frank didn't even have the energy to tell her to stop worrying. Once
they were finished she had closed his curtains and taken their bowls
downstairs, leaving Frank in the quiet of his room. His mom was the best. Frank
tried laying back down, but the moment he was anywhere close to horizontal, his
lungs began protesting vehemently and tried to force their way up through his
oesophagus. He tried reading, but the words swam on the page in front of his
eyes and made his head pound even more. He couldn't bring himself to leave the
cocoon he'd made for himself, still shivering violently whenever so much as a
finger slipped out into the cold, so turning on his stereo was out of the
question, and Frank ended up just nudging his laptop - which he'd helpfully
left at the end of his bed - closer towards him with his feet, and then his
knees, until it was perched on his thighs. Maybe he could find a half-decent
movie to pirate, something mind-numbing and easy.
Bundling his arms in the blanket around his shoulders, Frank wriggled until
just his fingers peeked out of the ends, then wriggled some more to get the
laptop open without any more exposure than he absolutely had to. After some
searching, he was able to unearth a copy of the original Dawn of the Dead - not
really mind-numbing, but something he'd seen enough times that he wouldn't have
to pay too much attention, and while it was buffering he clicked onto his
email. Expecting to find the usual spam interspersed with song ideas from Shaun
and Neil and cat pictures from Mikey, Frank was surprised to see an email right
at the top that had only arrived within the last half hour.
     from: Gerard Way
     to: Frank enStein
     date: Tue, Oct 20th at 1:12 PM
     Hi, Frank.
     How are you? When I didn't see you at lunch today I talked to Mikey,
     and he said you hadn't been into school this week. I hope it's
     nothing too serious.
     Mr Way
Frank blinked at the email for a moment, struck by the formality of it, before
his brain caught up. Mr Way was worried about him. Mr Way was worried enough
that he'd asked Mikey, then emailed to check up on him, instead of just waiting
for him to come back to school like anyone else - Mikey included - would have
done.
Frank's stomach did a happy little dance, until his chest reminded him he was
sick, motherfucker, and shouldn't be feeling happy. Once he'd managed to catch
his breath again, Frank tapped out a quick reply and sent it off before the
angry pounding behind his eyes caught up with him again.

     from: Frank enStein
     to: Gerard Way
     date: Tue, Oct 20th at 1:31 PM
     fine, just dying
     xof
Pressing his palms into his eye sockets, Frank swallowed back a whimper. Maybe
the laptop hadn't been such a great idea after all. Slamming the lid closed
without bothering to shut anything down, Frank pushed it back to the end of his
bed and huddled down into his pillows again, trying to figure out just how much
pressure would ease up the headache without making it ten times worse the
moment he let go.
The chiming of his cellphone woke him too soon after he'd closed his eyes, and
Frank turned back into his pillow with a groan. It was soaked through, and
didn't smell particularly good, but it was soft and mostly warm and there was
no fucking way he was getting up to answer a text, let alone change any goddamn
sheets.
It chimed again a little while later, then twice more almost straight away, and
again Frank ignored it. He was trying his damnedest to fall back asleep where
nothing hurt when the fucking doorbell got in on the action. Frank was just
about ready to choke a bitch now.
He could hear his mom's voice talking to whoever the fuck it was, but didn't
care to listen hard enough to make out what she was saying. She stopped after a
moment anyway, and Frank sighed and closed his eyes again. But, oh man, those
were definitely footsteps on the stairs, and that was definitely knocking at
his door. Gnrghh.
"Frankie?" His mom asked quietly, peeking her head in. Frank thought about
ignoring her and pretending to be asleep, but he wasn't that much of a dick.
She wouldn't be disturbing him for no reason.
"Mmm." He mumbled, pulling the blankets away from his head. "Whassit?"
"There's a friend here to see you, honey." His mom said. "I tried to say you
were sleeping, but he was quiet insistent and said he'd be quick."
Frank grumbled under his breath. Fucking Mikey, come to poke fun at the sick
dude because Frank had ignored his texts. Frank was pretty bored though, and
tomorrow wasn't looking any better.
"S'fine," Frank told her, carefully shoving himself vaguely upright and pushing
his sweaty hair out of his eyes. His phone chimed again. Asshole. "He can come
up."
His mom nodded and left the door ajar. Frank snuck one arm out of the blankets
to grab his phone from the floor next to his bed. He scrolled through the
messages as he heard his mom head back downstairs. They were all from Mikey.
dude wtf did u say 2 g
frnk u need 2 email him bk
srsly man hes freakin out
frnnk fckn answr ur fckn fone
ugh nvm hes cumin over
Wait... what? Fucking what?
Frank didn't have a chance to start panicking, because instead of Mikey pushing
his door open, it was Mr fucking Way.
Gaping like a fish, Frank just stared at him.
"Frankie!" Mr Way exclaimed with wild eyes, and rushed over to gather Frank up
in a bone-crushing hug. "Thank fucking God you're okay!"
Frank flinched and tried to huddle in on himself. Fuck knows how he looked,
hair matted in clumps and plastered to his scalp, face probably disgusting and
drawn and grey, and Frank knew he was sticky with sweat and smelled fuckin'
awful.
Mr Way didn't seem to notice, or care, and just squeezed Frank tightly in the
circle of his arms. Up this close, Frank could smell his cologne and underneath
that, his skin, and God did he smell good.
After a moment that seemed to drag on forever, just as Frank had begun to relax
into the hug and really enjoy it, Mr Way released him and Frank slumped back
into his bed, suddenly feeling hideously self conscious again. Mr Way sat on
the edge of Frank's bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and ran his
hands over his face.
"Fuck, I'm sorry, Frank, I know I shouldn't have come, I just, your email, and
I thought- fuck, Mikey said I was overreacting but I couldn't- couldn't help
it, couldn't bear the thought of you, maybe- shit, I can't even fuckin' say it-
"
"M'okay." Frank croaked out, taking pity on Mr Way's hunched shoulders. He
wasn't stupid, could see where Mr Way was going. "Just sick."
He hadn't really thought about it at the time. He told Mikey and Ray he was
dying so often that now they just laughed and shoved him and called him a
melodramatic princess. But Mr Way clearly hadn't brushed it off in the same
way, of course he hadn't. He never brushed off anything Frank said. He should
have known, really - it was why he liked Mr Way so much - but his head hadn't
really been in the game when he rushed out his reply, and now he felt awful.
"I'm sorry, Frankie." Mr Way repeated softly. "I shouldn't have come. I
just..." He trailed off, but Frank had been talking with him long enough to
know that he wasn't done, just needed time to get his thoughts in order.
Eventually, Mr Way continued.
"When I was a kid, I got in with a bad crowd. I was a bit of an outcast, and
I... I suppose I wanted so badly to be accepted by someone, anyone... and they
were the ones that put up with me, let me hang out with them. They smoked, they
drank, and one of them always had pot, and it was all so normal for them that
it was normal for me, too." Mr Way was staring at a spot on the floor, twisting
his hands together in front of him as he spoke. "Then one day it wasn't just
pot. They got hold of some pills, to this day I don't know what the fuck that
first one was, but like, why wouldn't I try it, right? Everyone else was. And
fuck, Frankie," He breathed, voice dropping half an octave, "I fuckin' loved
it. The feeling... it was like nothing else. Like I was flying, like I could do
anything I wanted, like being on top of the world. But then it wore off, and I
burned up and fell back down to earth with a fuckin' crash. It started so
easily that I didn't even realise I had a problem until it was too late. I was
using pills to get up in the morning, to keep me going throughout the day, and
I was still so fuckin' high at night that I'd have to use more pills to go to
sleep. And when I couldn't afford the pills, fuck. The thoughts that went
through my head... Without the pills, I realised what a huge fuckin' waste of
space I was, leeching off my parents, stealing from my entire family to buy
more pills, failing in school, nothing left of any value... I felt like the
worst person on the planet. I thought I had nothing left to offer anyone. I
knew that I was making everyone around me miserable, killing my mom one day at
a time, even dragging my little brother through the dirt with me." Mr Way's
voice caught in his throat and his hands stilled. Frank couldn't speak,
couldn't move, couldn't do anything but listen to Mr Way bare his soul to him.
"I wanted to die, Frankie." He admitted quietly, and Frank all but stopped
breathing. "I wanted to die so bad. I thought that if I could just fuckin',
fuckin' disappear, that everyone would be better off, would be happy, and I
wouldn't be hurting anymore." Mr Way brought one of his hands to his mouth,
chewing on a fingernail, and when he carried on talking his voice was distorted
by it. "I begged my friends to give me whatever they could, one at a time so
none of them knew how much I had. Even got hold of some coke. I raided the
medicine cabinet, my mom's purse, my dad's liquor stash, everything I could
find. Fuck knows how much I had. And that night, while everyone was sleeping,
I-" He stopped, shoulders shuddering, and turned to look at Frank.
The moment their eyes met, Frank stopped breathing. Mr Way's face was shining
in the dim afternoon light, tear tracks evident on his cheeks, but it was his
eyes that held Frank in place, soft and shimmering and filled with such pain
like nothing else Frank had ever seen before.
"I took it all, Frankie." Mr Way's voice shook, "I took every last pill and
painkiller, did the whole bag of coke, and chased it all down with a bottle of
vodka and half a bottle of whiskey. I took it all and I laid there, tripping
the fuck out like nothing I'd ever felt before and waited for the end to
swallow me whole. And it was, fuck, it was horrible. I was fucking terrified,
terrified of the things I was seeing, the fucking hallucinations, the things my
head was trying to tell me... I was so fucking scared, Frankie. So fucking
scared. My Dad, he must have noticed I'd been through his stuff, because he
came down to yell at me while I was losing it and fucking, fucking shaking and
foaming at the fucking mouth, and he called 911 and they pumped everything out
and stopped my fat fucking worthless ass from dying." He spat the last few
words out, anger lacing through them with a hatred Frank had never seen before,
before it faded away and the lost look returned. More than anything Frank
wanted to reach out and hold him, but no matter how bad he wanted, he couldn't
move a muscle.
"And when you said..." Mr Way said brokenly, "When you said... I guess I just
remembered... And I couldn't let you do that, Frankie, I couldn't-" He choked
off a sob, covering his face with his hands, and Frank's body suddenly got with
the program. Shoving the blankets away, Frank wrapped himself around Mr Way's
shaking form, forgetting for the moment how badly he needed a shower, and Mr
Way clung to Frank's arm, his shoulder, his neck.
"It's okay," Frank heard himself saying into Mr Way's hair, over and over,
"It's okay. I'm okay."
Slowly, Mr Way's shaking subsided, and he turned so that their foreheads were
pressed together, his hand still on the back of Frank's neck.
"Frankie," Mr Way whispered, voice rough around the edges, "Frankie, please,
promise me if you ever, ever feel like that, even a tiny part of that, please-"
"I'll tell you." Frank interrupted him, trying to convey his sincerity on his
face when Mr Way's eyes opened, "I'll tell you, I promise. But I'm fine.
Really. I'm okay."
Frank heard Mr Way suck in a breath before letting it out again, long and slow,
and gradually, he drew back, releasing Frank's neck. Frank immediately missed
the pressure, the presence, but he followed suit, lifting a hand to press
against his temple as his headache reminded him that, yeah, fucker, m'still
here.
Frank grunted at the shock of pain, and Mr Way seemed to notice the state Frank
was in because something in his face shifted. He lifted a hand as if to brush
Frank's hair back, but pulled it back without touching which, really, was kind
of ridiculous given how close they'd just been. Close enough to kiss, Frank's
brain supplied helpfully. Frank thought his brain could fuck right off.
It was only after Mr Way had left, full of apologies, telling Frank he needed
to rest with sympathy etched into the lines around his eyes, that Frank
realised.
Mr Way hadn't introduced himself to Frank's mom as his teacher. He'd introduced
himself as his friend. And Frank's mom hadn't batted an eyelid.
Chapter End Notes
     I joined Twitter! Feel free to follow/chat to me, I don't bite :
     D @s0ckpuppeteer
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry this took so long! For some reason it was a lot harder to write
     than the other chapters, and I kept stopping and starting, losing my
     train of thought, and having to put it down and come back to it the
     next day. Possibly that was because it didn't end up where I'd
     originally thought it was going to - this was supposed to be a nice,
     light chapter after the last one - but I can take this and run with
     it all the same.
Frank went back to school on Thursday. His fever had broken the day before, and
he could stand without feeling like he was going to keel over, so he couldn't
justify his mom taking another day off work for him, not when they really
needed the money.
Frank hadn't been able to bring himself to dress as he'd originally planned.
Admittedly, he still didn't look terribly good, pale and drawn with swollen,
red eyes, but that wasn't the reason. After their encounter on Tuesday, just
the thought of winding Mr Way up made Frank's stomach churn unpleasantly and
left a bad taste on the back of his tongue. The way Frank had been thinking
about treating them - not that there really was a them, not yet - was childish,
just like a teenager would think. and the realisation hit Frank in the stomach
like a sledgehammer. Mr Way clearly thought better of Frank to have opened up
like he had, to have worried like he had, and Frank was embarrassed by how he'd
been thinking of behaving. He'd been trying to win Mr Way over like any other
seventeen-year-old might, but Mr Way didn't like him because he was a teenager,
thank God, and trying to win him over like a teenager was never going to work.
Fuck, they were so much more than that.
Mr Way must have talked to Mikey about what he'd told Frank, because Mikey
didn't rib him the way he normally would. In fact, he barely said two words to
Frank all day, just looked at him really, really hard. It made Frank a little
uncomfortable, but he couldn't bring himself to confront Mikey about it. He was
a little scared of what Mikey might say if he did.
He went to see Mr Way half way through lunch, unable to stand it any longer.
"Frank," Mr Way smiled. He had been sitting behind his desk, but immediately
pushed to his feet and approached. Something was different. Frank couldn't put
his finger on what exactly it was, but something in the air didn't feel right.
"Mikey's being weird." Frank said simply. Maybe he was imagining it, and the
tense feeling would dissipate if he ignored it.
Mr Way scoffed, almost a laugh.
"That kid's always weird." He said, then visibly backtracked. "I mean, that's
not- I don't think you're-" He scrunched his eyes closed and stopped, and when
he continued, it was to change the subject. "You're feeling better?"
Frank shrugged one shoulder then nodded to Mr Way's question, hefting his bag
up onto one of the benches lining the back wall.
"Yeah, m'okay." He answered, not really thinking until he saw something flicker
across Mr Way's face. Oops. Bad choice of words.
"Frank, I... About the other day..." Mr Way started slowly, not looking at
Frank's face any more but somewhere over his shoulder instead. His eyes flicked
up to one side like he was remembering, and Frank stayed quiet until he was
ready to finish.
Eventually, Mr Way seemed to gather his thoughts. "It was incredibly
inappropriate of me to come by your house like that. I'm truly sorry, I can't
apologise enough and I will completely understand if you decide to report me to
the school board."
Mr Way stopped speaking, but Frank could only stand there, staring, jaw
gradually falling slack as his brain processed the words. Frank felt his
stomach start to twist, a whole slew of emotions churning through him. Shock,
that Mr Way was being so formal, talking to him like a teacher, frustration
that he was trying to take ten steps backwards and restore that boundary
between them. Sadness that Mr Way seemed to regret the moment they had shared.
But the anger, it was the anger that won out. Anger that he thought Frank would
fucking report him. He was almost glad when Mr Way met his eyes again, so he
could see exactly how Frank felt.
"What the fuck?" Frank said clearly, gritting his teeth as soon as the words
left his mouth. "What the fuck!" He said again, but it wasn't a question this
time, and he carried on without giving Mr Way a chance to explain himself.
Bastard didn't deserve it.
"You actually think I'd fucking report you? For, for worrying that I was going
to fucking kill myself? Fucking, for, for fucking caring?" Frank knew he was
cursing more than usual, but he couldn't stop it, fury mixing with hurt and
clouding his thoughts. At least he was enunciating. "After fucking everything,
after all the time we've spent together, after that night we practically- and
after fucking Tuesday, you remember, when you freaked out and came to my house
and told me fucking, fucking everything, after all that, you think you can go
back to being nothing but my fucking teacher? What do you think, that I'm some
fucking child who's going to freak out and run and tell my mommy about what we
did because you've, fucking what even, you've had issues? Because you're not
fucking perfect? You think my feelings are that fucking fickle? What the
fucking fuck?!"
He was shouting in Mr Way's face now, who looked more than a little taken aback
and shell shocked.
Frank wasn't done though.
"I can't fucking believe you!" He cried, waving his hands around wildly,
uncaring of who might be around to overhear. Frank was letting the anger
outweigh the hurt now, letting it fuel him on, reveling in the way Mr Way
didn't seem to be able to move a muscle. "Do you really think that fucking
little of me, Gerard? Jesus Christ, I can't believe I fucking thought for one
fucking second that you might-"
"Uh..." A new voice piped up, and Frank saw someone peering around the door. He
choked himself off before he could finish that thought, -that you might have
had fucking feelings for me, because with another teacher around that would end
nowhere any of them wanted it to.
"Is there a problem here?" The teacher asked firmly, clearly trying to assert
their authority. It wasn't one Frank knew by face alone, but he'd never really
paid attention to teachers he didn't have to have direct contact with.
Frank watched as Mr Way closed his eyes, closing his mouth and smoothing out
the lines on his forehead, and when he opened his eyes again he'd schooled his
features into something less panicked and more authoritative. Finally, he
plastered a smile on and turned to the other teacher.
"No problem, Mr Ellroy." He said, and Frank was almost impressed with how
steady his voice was. Lower than usual, a no-nonsense tone that Frank idly
recognised as Mr Way's ~teacher voice~, and fuck, it was hot. Frank shook
himself out of that thought and tried to cling onto the anger that was rapidly
dissipating now that his tirade had been interrupted.
"Frank here is just having a bit of a bad day," Mr Way carried on calmly.
"Everything's under control."
Frank had no idea how Mr Way could sound so collected and together after he'd
had someone practically screaming in his face moments before, but Mr Ellroy -
drama, now Frank was thinking about it - seemed to buy it. He looked between
Frank and Mr Way a few more times, but nodded, just once.
"Okay. If he gives you any more trouble and you need a hand, you know where to
find me."
He closed the door behind him and Mr Way waited for a moment before going over
there himself. Frank thought for a moment he was going to leave, just walk
away, and he felt the anger start to bubble again, but Mr Way just turned the
key in the lock and pulled the tiny blind down over the glass portion of the
door.
When Mr Way turned back around, Frank's heart was just about ready to fly out
of his fucking chest. Mr Way's face was hardened in a way Frank had never seen
it before, eyes dark and hooded and as he stalked back towards him, Frank
realised the thundering in his ears wasn't just residual adrenaline from the
shouting. It was so easy to forget that Mr Way had been in relationships with
naturally submissive people before, but right now Frank wasn't having any
trouble imagining him playing the dominating partner, not when it was laid out
like that all over his face.
"Frank." Mr Way said, voice still so, so low and smooth and fuck, Frank might
be a little scared right now but he was also a little turned on, too. Mr Way
stopped in front of him, closer than they had been before, and his face seemed
to shudder, if that was even possible, the tough exterior melting away.
"Frank." He said again, and this time there was a softer edge to his voice,
almost pleading. "Frank."
Without any warning, Mr Way gathered Frank up in his arms. Too shocked by the
sudden change, Frank let him, and felt the last of his anger drain away as Mr
Way all but buried his face in Frank's neck. One arm was across Frank's back,
hand on the back of Frank's head, while the other curled around his waist,
gripping tightly. Tight enough to bruise, Frank's brain supplied helpfully, and
his dick tried to get involved at the memory of Mr Way telling Frank how badly
he wanted to mark him up. Frank desperately thought of anything he could to
stop his body embarrassing him, and by the time he'd willed those thoughts
away, Mr Way was talking into his skin.
"Frank, don't even think those things, okay, don't even fuckin' think I don't
care about you, because we both know that's not true. I don't tell just anyone
those things about myself, and the last person I did tell, before you, he..."
Mr Way paused here, just long enough for Frank to realise he wasn't
participating very much in the hug they were sharing. He wrapped both arms
around Mr Way, the fingers of one hand curling into the hair at the base of Mr
Way's neck, and felt the other man's breath shudder out before he continued.
"Well, let's just say he didn't want much to do with me after. I guess I
thought maybe it would be easier if I... If I didn't give you a chance to let
me down."
Frank tried to pull back and Mr Way let him go, but he only went far enough to
be able to see Mr Way's face, his fingers still twisted up in surprisingly soft
bright red hair.
"Did you really think I would?" Frank asked softly. Mr Way met his eyes for a
second before he looked away again. Everything about this was way, way too
intimate for two people who were just friends, but Frank certainly wasn't going
to be the one to bring it up.
"I hoped you wouldn't." Mr Way replied, finally disentangling himself from
Frank's body and taking a step back. His face was settling back into that shell
again and Frank didn't like it one bit. He took a step closer.
"God, I really hoped you wouldn't." Mr Way said, but there was something else
in his voice now. "But now... I think I need you to."
Frank frowned. What? This wasn't making any sense.
"Need me to... let you down?" He asked, confusion colouring his tone.
Mr Way nodded, face downcast.
"What are you talking about?" Frank questioned, voice coming out a little more
harshly than before as his temper nudged at him.
Mr Way turned as if to walk back to his desk, but Frank caught his arm before
he could take the first step. He didn't turn around though, just carried on
speaking to the floor.
"I just think it's going to be better for both of us if you didn't come by here
as much. Or at all, outside of your lessons."
Frank's brain was struggling to keep up. First, Mr Way just lets Frank yell and
scream at him. Then they share the kind of hug that fucking means something,
then, what? Then he fucking, whatever the fuck this is, fucking breaks up with
him?
It was quiet for a long time, and neither of them moved a muscle. Frank could
feel Mr Way's pulse racing beneath his fingers, but that was the only sign he
had that the other man was feeling anything at all.
"Are you fucking with me?" Frank voiced eventually. "What, because you've seen
me come, suddenly we can't be friends?" Frank's brain-to-mouth filter had
apparently taken the day off.
Mr Way jerked, muttered, "Oh, God," and tried to pull his arm away, but Frank's
grip was firm.
"Does that make me a different person?" Frank continued. "You seemed just
fucking fine before. If you don't want to hang out any more, all you have to do
is say so. You don't have to make up fucking excuses to try and let me down
easy." Frank was getting angry again now, and he grabbed hold of that fire with
both hands. "I'm a big fucking boy, Sir, I can take fucking rejection."
"Frank, fucking hell, no." Mr Way found his voice, yanking his arm free and
spinning to face Frank again. "That is not what I said. Don't put fucking words
in my mouth."
Frank would have laughed if he weren't so pissed.
"It's just. Different now." Mr Way said, like that explained it all.
"Why is it fucking different now?" Frank mocked.
Mr Way waved his hands around like that would explain everything. "Because!"
Fucking what?
"Because what!? You must've watched countless people come before, and done far
worse to them!"
Mr Way's cheeks flushed and his eyes slid away from Frank's. "Jesus, not
countless-"
"Not the point!" Frank interrupted.
"No it's not!" Mr Way shouted right back, and Frank nearly fell over in
surprise. Mr Way closed his eyes again, pulling himself back together.
"The point is," Mr Way continued once Frank had closed his mouth, "that this is
all getting way out of hand. I talked to Mikey about coming to see you, and..."
"Did Mikey put you up to this?" As much as Frank wanted to be angry, to stay
angry, he couldn't stop the hurt from spilling over into his voice.
"No," Mr Way insisted. "This has nothing to do with Mikey. But talking to him
about you, about us... It made me realise what a dangerous position I'm in,
Frankie. I shouldn't have emailed you, or looked up your address. I shouldn't
have come by your house or pretended to be a friend."
Frank opened his mouth to tell Mr Way he wasn't pretending, but Mr Way carried
on over the top of him.
"I shouldn't have bought you guys beer, or watched movies with you and fuck, I
definitely shouldn't have let things go so far between us. Jesus, if the school
even knew I'd given you my personal email address I'd be in a whole heap of
shit, Frank, let alone if they found out I was fucking gay. And those are the
least damning things I've done."
He rubbed his hands over his face, and this time when he stepped backwards,
Frank let the gap build between them.
"God, if we'd met some other way..." Mr Way murmured softly, almost to himself,
then pitched his voice louder again, "It doesn't matter to the school that
there's only a few years between us. It doesn't matter that we have similar
interests, or that we enjoy spending time together, or that we make each other
laugh." He broke off to suck in a breath, hands getting caught on the tangles
in his hair. "I'm in a position of authority. And you are seventeen, Frank.
Seventeen. Even if they believed we were just friends, it would still be
massively inappropriate."
"But-" Frank tried, but Mr Way wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise.
"I know you want us to be friends, Frank. Believe me, I do too. But I enjoy the
time we spend together so much that I've been forgetting what a huge risk this
is. If someone were to get the wrong idea- or, God, the right idea- it could be
the end of my career. Frank, even the allegation that I'm liaising with a
student could fucking end me."
Now that Mr Way was letting Frank speak, he didn't have a word to say. Mr Way's
words were hitting home, hard. Frank knew just how tough kids could be, how
quick they were to start rumours even when there wasn't a shred of truth in
them.
Suddenly, it wasn't as fun any more. This might have started for Frank as a
fleeting attraction, a God, he's gorgeous, I wonder what he's like in bed, but
over the past few weeks, as he'd gotten to know Mr Way more and more, it had
gone from I want to fuck him to I want to know him and now, Frank realised with
a start, it was I want to be with him. He didn't just want Mr Way for the
night, but he didn't just want him as a friend either. After the experiences
they'd had together... They may have been few, but they'd been so, so
memorable, and Frank wanted more than anything to keep exploring that side of
himself, with Mr Way.
"Okay." He said eventually.
Mr Way immediately launched into the start of another lecture on why they
couldn't do this, Frank, you can't keep hanging around here, before he realised
what Frank had said and stuttered to a halt.
"Okay." Frank repeated with a nod. "I get it."
"You do?" Mr Way asked.
Frank nodded again. "Yep. Dangerous, illegal, abuse of power." He waved a hand
around lightly. "I get it. I think it's stupid," he added honestly, "But I get
it."
Obviously Frank didn't think Mr Way was stupid, Jesus. But the whole system was
totally fucked up. At the end of the month he'd be turning eighteen; how the
fuck did anyone go from a child to an adult overnight? What made him more able
to consent one day than the day before? And because Mr Way was a teacher, kids
were expected to fold and do whatever he said? Just because teachers had the
authority to hand out detention didn't mean Frank respected them. Fuck, he was
more likely to do something stupid like jump out of a second floor window
because his friends goaded him into it than because a teacher told him he had
to.
But just because Frank understood Mr Way's fears, didn't mean he was going to
give up. Fuck, the battle almost made Frank want him more. There was something
delicious in the forbidden, and although Frank didn't want to see Mr Way lose
his job or, Jesus fuck, go to jail, he knew he had some damn good jerk off
material for the next few weeks.
He was already forming a plan in his mind. The end of school was months away
and Frank knew he wouldn't be able to wait that long, but a few more weeks,
that he could do.
"Can we still hang out when Mikey invites me over?" Frank asked, wanting to
deflect attention from his easy acceptance. He'd assumed it would be a no, but
was surprised when Mr Way looked down at his feet.
"Um, actually..." He started, twisting his hands together in front of him.
"I'm, uh. I'm moving out. This weekend. Now I've got a steady income I figured
I shouldn't keep leeching off my parents, and a place came up closer to school
so I can save money walking instead of driving..."
Frank grinned, but wiped it away before Mr Way could look at him again. Fuck,
this was getting better and better. He didn't really want to show how good this
news actually was, so he turned on the defensive instead.
"Moving? You didn't say a word!"
Mr Way shrugged, cheeks red. "It was kind of sudden."
When he didn't offer anything further, Frank let it go. That was enough for now
- it was within walking distance of the school. Perfect. He picked up his
backpack again and approached Mr Way slowly, forcing the other man to back up
against the desks until he couldn't go any further.
"Frank, what-" Mr Way's hands came up as if to protect himself, but he didn't
touch, just hovered in mid air between their bodies.
"Something for the road?" Frank grinned, leaning in closer.
"Frank!"
"What?" Frank shrugged, nonchalant, and puckered his lips.
"Stop it!" Mr Way exclaimed, hands fluttering nervously now.
"What?" Frank asked again. "You locked the door. S'not like anyone can see us
right now. Then, I promise I'll go."
Mr Way shook his head vehemently. "No way, you agreed, we are stopping all of,"
he flapped his fingers between them both, "This. Someone could still find out,
and-"
Frank raised an eyebrow, channeling Mikey as best he could. "I think they'd be
more pissed," he said softly, keeping his voice low, "about you telling me how
you wanted to get me into sub-space, hold me down and bruise me up and fuck my
brains out, don't you?" He softened it by batting his eyelashes over-
exaggeratedly and shooting Mr Way a cheeky smile.
Mr Way choked, but Frank caught a hint of amusement around the edges of his
mouth, and sure enough, that mouth was soon shifting into the gorgeous smile
Frank was so fond of, laughter spilling out.
"You are such a little punk."
Frank grinned again, wide and bright, and Mr Way shifted marginally closer.
Thinking he'd won, Frank moved in again himself, closing his eyes when Mr Way
placed both hands on Frank's cheeks to hold him still. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this
was really happening, fuck-
-then Mr Way pressed his mouth to Frank's forehead.
It took Frank a long moment, and by the time he'd opened his eyes Mr Way had
released him and was sliding out from between Frank and the desks, grinning
himself now.
Frank narrowed his eyes in Mr Way's direction. "Cheat."
Mr Way quirked his mouth and Frank's breath caught, his dick reminding him of
just how fucking hot the guy could look when he wanted to.
Turning to leave, Frank made it all the way to the door, even going so far as
to raise the little blind before he opened his mouth again.
"You're right, it's better this way." He waited for Mr Way to look over before
he continued. "I can wait. When I get that kiss from you, fuck." He closed his
eyes, moaned softly. "It's going to be worth the wait."
Frank watched the smile drop off Mr Way's face as he unlocked the door, and
slipped out without another word.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Summary
     Frank has a plan.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The more he thought about it - and he thought about it a lot - the more Frank
was starting to realise he'd been going about this entirely the wrong way. He'd
been poking and pushing, trying to assert some kind of twisted authority and
get the response he wanted. But both times Mr Way had caved before - first in
the classroom, and the second time at home - Frank had almost been taking a
back seat to the action, just doing his thing and letting Mr Way come to him.
And God, had those times gotten the kind of response he wanted so badly.
It made complete sense, Frank had just been too caught up to see it. Mr Way
might be attracted to him, but he was a grown man. Being attracted to someone
didn't rot the brain, and he was totally capable of ignoring it and keeping his
hands to himself. The other side of Frank that had come out in the classroom
that day, though... That was another story entirely. It was hard for Frank to
remember. fuckin' fuzzy head, but he knew Mr Way had been touching him in a way
he couldn't shake off as purely platonic. The tattoos had definitely helped out
there - Mr Way seemed to lose some of his composure when inked up skin came
into play, and Frank was completely willing to exploit any weakness he could to
get what he - what they both, clearly - wanted.
He'd come to terms with wanting more than just sex, but Frank was well aware
that conventional dating methods weren't going to cut it. Mr Way had all but
told Frank to disappear out of his life, he certainly wasn't going to agree to
go out for coffee, or dinner and a movie. Besides, Frank wasn't really the
conventional dating type. Coffee inevitably led to inane small talk where he'd
end up tripping over his tongue or saying something stupid and ruining any
chance he had of scoring. Dinner would often be much of the same, only over
hideously overpriced plates of food that he'd have to pay for out of the meager
allowance his mom could afford to give him. The movie would bore him to tears
within the first half an hour, and most people were unhappy if he fell asleep
part way through. Frank wondered if he could call their pizza and Lord of the
Rings evening a 'date'. It hadn't really felt like one, and not just because
Mikey and Ray were there too. But it had definitely ended like a successful
one. Maybe dating wasn't all that bad, with the right kind of person.
But, before Frank could dream about any kind of future dates, he had to get
under Mr Way's skin. If conventional methods weren't going to work, then Frank
was going to have to go unconventional.
---
The next time Frank caught up with Ray and Mikey, Mikey was still side-eyeing
him weirdly. Except now Frank knew why he was doing it, he wasn't so worried
about confronting him.
"Fucking what, Mikeyway?" He snapped, laying down on the ground next to their
bench with his hands behind his head as a pillow. It was cold, but at least it
hadn't rained in a few days. Frank closed his eyes and waited for Mikey to
respond. He could feel both of them watching him, which made him wonder how
much Ray knew, too. Possibly even more than Mikey, if he hadn't squealed like a
piggy about what little he'd been privy to.
"Did my brother talk to you?" Mikey said eventually, tone as flat as always,
but with his eyes closed Frank could hear the concern there. Frank crossed his
feet at the ankles and nestled back into his hands, making a show of it.
"Yep." He said, popping the 'p' obnoxiously.
Mikey waited for him to continue, and Frank ignored him. Fucker was going to
have to pry it out of him with a fucking crowbar.
Someone sighed. Probably Ray, but it was Mikey that carried on their feeble
excuse for a conversation.
"What did he say?"
"He certainly didn't say you put him up to it," Frank said, then added snidely,
"But I can read between the lines."
Mikey didn't deny it.
"He told me to stop hanging out with him." Frank added. "Like it's a fucking
playground. Sorry, I don't want to be friends any more. Eugh."
Mikey was silent for a long moment. "You're an asshole." He said eventually,
and then his voice got even quieter. "I'm not letting my brother go to jail for
you."
Instead of sounding angry, Mikey just sounded sad. Like a brick to the stomach,
Frank suddenly remembered what Mr Way had told him about his life before, about
his problems and addictions and how he'd been dragging his brother down with
him. He felt a little bit sick wondering what, exactly, Mikey had had to watch
him go through and do to himself. God, how many times had Mikey had to be the
older brother? How many times had he had to pull Mr Way out of the bathroom,
out of the gutter, out of his own head? This was his friend, Goddammit. Fuck,
he really was an asshole.
He let out a long breath and scrubbed his hands over his face.
"I know. Fuck, I'm an asshole. I'm sorry."
Nobody said anything, but Frank didn't need to open his eyes to know they were
sharing a glance loaded with what the fuck? Frank never apologised, not ever.
The only person he'd ever said sorry to in his life was his mom, because she
was the best and he gave her far too much shit.
Mikey nudged him in the side with his foot, and Frank knew everything was okay.
"Now stop with the fucking eyes, would you?"
---
In the days leading up to his birthday, Frank spent every free moment
researching. He had never studied this hard, and it turned out to be a bit of a
shock to the system. Where he could normally get through the school day with
relatively little going through his head, now everything he'd read the night
before kept popping up in the forefront of his mind, and Frank wasn't sure he
liked it too much. This, this was exactly why he didn't study.
He read everything he could find on non-traditional relationships, specifically
those with their particular proclivities, and Frank was realising there was a
lot more to this than he'd originally expected. It was more than power play,
more than blind trust in another person, and there was so much to think about,
so many possibilities that Frank kept wondering if he could fit any more into
his brain without it starting to leak out his ears. He'd read some pretty
intimidating stuff, and stumbled across images and photos that made him want to
turn and run away without a further look. But he also spent a lot of time
feeling this strange combination of scared, excited, and a little bit turned
on. He was nothing if not eager though, and by the last Thursday he thought
he'd figured out what he was going to do.
---
After Friday's lesson, Frank packed away slowly and loitered until the last of
the students had filtered out. Mr Way sent him a sharp look, and Frank held up
both hands, palms out, trying to look innocent.
"I'm not staying," he said, and slid a flyer gingerly onto Mr Way's desk.
"Just. We have another gig on my birthday. If you're free, y'know."
Mr Way glanced down at the flyer, then looked back up again and nodded simply.
"Thank you for the invite." He said, overly polite. "Good luck tomorrow,
Frank."
Frank sniffed and nodded, then slipped out before things got any more awkward.
It had been easy enough to ignore when he only saw Mr Way during lessons, but
when it was just the two of them the tension in the air was almost unbearable.
Fuck, Frank hated it. Hopefully not for too much longer though.
Instead of going straight home after school, Frank ducked behind one of the
cars still in the school parking lot. He didn't have to wait long before Mr Way
appeared, and Frank breathed a sigh of relief when he bypassed all the cars and
went straight for the gates on foot. Waiting until the last possible moment,
when Mr Way was just a dark blur moving down the street, Frank slipped out and
started to follow.
He must have looked super shady, breaking into a run whenever Mr Way turned a
corner, only to skid to a halt then peer around it like a crazy person. Or a
mugger. But fuck, this was Jersey - nobody was going to step in and try and
stop a mugging, so he was probably safe.
Mr Way hadn't been kidding when he'd said his new place was near the school.
They'd barely gone two blocks before Mr Way was turning up a path leading
towards a small terrace and getting out his keys. Frank recognised the car in
the drive, and immediately turned on his heel. He'd seen enough for today, but
he wasn't done yet.
Next, Frank hopped on a bus to the nearest mall. It took him over two hours to
find what he was looking for, and his mother had frowned when he'd arrived home
looking sweaty and disheveled. But Frank's mood couldn't be spoiled and he
pressed a kiss to her cheek before hurrying upstairs to stash his little black
bag under his mattress. By dinner she seemed to have forgiven him, but he made
sure to ooh and ahh over her cooking just in case.
"So," his mom said with a smile as they were finishing up. "Eighteen tomorrow,
huh?"
Frank smacked a hand to his forehead and swallowed. "I knew I was forgetting
something!" He grinned widely, all teeth, and his mom laughed. Yeah, totally
forgiven.
"I know it's a big day for you, and I'm sure you'd like to be out with your
friends, but I was hoping we could spend some time together during the day?"
She looked so hopeful, and a little bit sad, and Frank couldn't bring himself
to refuse her. Besides, he knew Mikey had a date this weekend, and Ray would
probably have his hair buried under piles of sheet music. Hambone lived across
town and Frank had never even been to Shaun and Neil's place before, so they
weren't even part of the equation.
His mom must have assumed he'd at least try and wriggle out of it, because she
wasn't quite able to mask her surprise when he quickly agreed.
"Why not," he said with a genuine smile. "We haven't done anything together in
forever. What do you want to do?"
His mom half shrugged, like she hadn't planned that far ahead. "Maybe we could
go out for lunch? Do some shopping? I know you boys have a show in the evening
so I won't keep you out for too long."
Frank nodded. He hated shopping, but he loved his mom. Besides, he had a favour
to ask.
"Would it be alright if I stayed out after the show tomorrow night?" He asked,
being purposefully vague. "Mikey's brother just moved out, and I think he'd
like the company."
His mom nodded easily, making him promise not to drink too much, and Frank
mentally punched the air. Perfect. He hated misleading her, but this was just
enough truth to keep them both happy. She assumed he was Mikey, and Frank
hadn't had to lie to her to put his plan in motion.
---
Frank woke up on the morning of his birthday feeling, as he'd expected, exactly
the same as he had the day before. Eighteen was just like seventeen, but he was
eighteen now, fuckers.
His mom had made him pancakes for breakfast, which, fucking score, and even let
him do his own thing for the rest of the morning. She was being weirdly
squirrely, but Frank shrugged it off as her being overly emotional because her
baby was growing up. Frank sniggered to himself - if only she knew what he'd
spent the past week researching. Thank God (or not) for incognito browsing.
He tried to be a good son all through lunch - Mexican, whoop! - and dutifully
answered all his mom's questions about school through too-big mouthfuls of
beans and rice. It tasted good, shut up. He could tell she wanted to ask him
about college applications, but didn't want to get too heavy on his birthday.
Frank thought about telling her he was hoping for a scholarship. He might have
been a little shit that hardly ever studied, which led people to assume he'd
never amount to anything, but his grades were good - probably the only reason
he hadn't been kicked out of school yet - and the school adviser thought he was
in with a real chance if he just applied himself for the last few months of
school, Frank. But Frank didn't want to get her hopes up. He still wasn't sold
on going to college - the money he could earn from a full-time job, even just
stacking shelves, would be more helpful to his mom than the meager earnings a
weekend job could get him, but Frank knew if he told his mom that he was
considering not going to college to help her out, she would get those crazy
eyes and somehow force his hand, then continue struggling and working herself
ragged for the next four years. Nope, that was not something Frank was bringing
up with her. Not on his birthday.
After lunch there was shopping, and Frank's mom must have enjoyed lunch because
she let him go to the bookstore, and then the comic book store, and even the
music store. By the time they were done Frank had a small pile of new books and
comics to read and a new set of guitar strings, so he couldn't exactly complain
when his mom asked him to please, Frank, please let me buy you some new jeans
that still have the knees. He hated clothes shopping, but it made his mom happy
to see him looking as smart as she could make him without trussing him up in a
suit. He purposely checked all the labels under the guise of looking at sizes
and chose one of the cheapest pairs he could find - they'd only end up torn and
frayed at the end of the day - and the way his mom smiled at him on the drive
home was worth giving up his afternoon for.
They stopped off at home long enough for him to dump his shopping bags in his
room, stuff his stage clothes and the little black bag into his backpack and
sling his guitar over his shoulder, then his mom drove him to the venue they
were playing. It was still quiet - doors had only opened half an hour ago, at
seven, and they didn't go on until nine, so there were only a few people
loitering outside. Frank kissed his mom on the cheek - fuck anyone who tried to
make fun of him - and, after she'd driven away, went off to find his boys.
They were already setting up inside, all turned away from him, so Frank did the
only logical thing and took a running jump. Hambone all but shrieked as Frank
landed on his back, locking his arms around Hambone's neck and digging his
knees into the soft flesh that hung over the top of his jeans.
"What the fuck, you crazy fucking midget!"
He grabbed hold of Frank's legs though, and ran around in a circle while Frank
crowed happily and smacked a sloppy kiss to the side of his neck.
"It's my birthday, fuckers!" He yelled, ignoring Shaun's long-suffering head
shaking. "Tonight's gonna be awesome!"
"Fuck you, our shows are always awesome!" Neil insisted, and threw some cables
in Frank's direction. "Come on, just because it's your birthday doesn't mean
you get out of hooking everything up."
Frank snorted, but did his part. If he had his way tonight, amps and pedals
wouldn't be the only things getting hooked up. Once they were finished, the
crowd was starting to grow - and there were familiar faces, fuck, he'd would
never get over how cool it was that they had fucking fans. Frank slunk off into
the wings to change, leaving the guys to get the first round of beers, and
pulled out his clothes for the night.The jeans were torn, of course - besides
the new ones, Frank didn't own much that wasn't - the knees were totally gone,
there was a long gash up one thigh that Frank thought might have been made by a
fence post, and there were several smaller holes scattered across the other leg
that were definitely cigarette burns at one point, but had been picked at and
frayed to within an inch of their life and looked more like hot poker burns
now. They were also black, and, being from the teenage girls' section of Old
Navy, they were tight - fuck, Frank hoped they still fit. He'd also brought the
old white tank he'd been planning on wearing to school - what he'd deemed to be
childish at school would totally work on the stage, once he ramped it up with
sweat and music.
Frank took his teeth to the white tank top, tearing holes in it and picking
away at the hems until all his glorious ink was showing through. God, he hoped
Mr Way turned up. Frank was starting to feel jittery now, fingers itching to do
something, and he dressed hurriedly, running his fingers through his hair over
and over to mess it up. He took a moment to smudge on some eyeliner - without a
mirror, but Frank had done it enough to be able to go by muscle memory, and
besides, it always looked better when it looked like he'd done it in a hurry.
He wanted to look fucking wrecked.
He was saved from over-thinking his every move by Shaun shoving a beer into his
hand and then shoving him out onto the stage. Apparently it was showtime!
Fuckin' A.
And Jesus fuck, it was 'A' indeed. The kids were burning the place up, mosh pit
opening up by Frank's feet and spilling onto the stage, middle fingers up in
the air and fuck you's getting screamed at Frank and bad exes and the man.
Frank could almost forget everything else up there, at least until his eyes
fell on Mr Way, half in the shadows in one corner of the bar. He was clearly
trying not to be seen, but the stage lights were practically nonexistent in
this place, and Frank was looking. Fuck, he was gorgeous. Black skinny jeans
and a red t-shirt, tight leather jacket, hair all over the place like he'd just
got very, very lucky. Frank knew better though - Mr Way always had sex hair. It
made him want to see if it looked even better after he'd actually had someone
else grabbing onto it with both hands.
Frank screamed and cursed and sang until his throat was raw, thrashed about and
let the music carry him wherever it wanted. He could feel sweat dripping down
his forehead and the hollow between his shoulder blades, and that only made him
want to get even crazier, throwing himself to the floor between verses to scoot
across the stage on his back. He couldn't see Mr Way from down here, but he
could feel eyes burning into him like twin cigarette cherries, and yeah, yeah,
that was exactly how it was supposed to go. Feeling cocky, Frank planted his
heels and gyrated against his guitar a few times, arching his neck and torso
off the floor in a smooth back bend, then used the momentum to glide back up to
his feet.
Mr Way's mouth was open.
Yeah.
---
After the show, Mr Way was nowhere to be seen. Pussy. Frank wasn't too
disappointed though - uncomfortable enough to scarper was pretty much exactly
what he'd been hoping for, because that might as well be confirmation that
Frank was hot shit up there tonight.
The guys insisted on birthday drinks, so Frank chugged his way through a full
pint of water then nursed his second beer slowly. One thing he did not want to
be tonight was drunk. Normally he would have begged off helping them pack up -
it was his birthday, goddammit - but he really needed a lift.
He let them drive towards his place until they were as close to Mr Way's street
as they were going to get, then convinced them to let him out with his stuff.
"It's cool, I'm fuckin' baking in here with you sweaty fuckers, I'll walk. See
you next weekend, yeah?"
They hadn't even tried to argue, and Frank was grateful his guys didn't really
give a shit about his flighty nature. They were used to him jumping out of the
van whilst it was still moving to pet small animals, or running out in the rain
because it was more fun than showering, so this barely even registered as out
of the ordinary.
So far, so good. Now it was going to get difficult.
As he walked, guitar slung over one shoulder and backpack dangling from his
hand, Frank dug through to find the little black plastic bag he'd been thinking
about ever since he'd got it home. Taking out the contents and stuffing the
empty bag back into his rucksack, he tested the weight in his palm, rubbing the
softness of the leather between two fingers, and grinned to himself. He could
totally do this.
Outside Mr Way's place, Frank tugged off his sticky shirt and stowed all his
stuff under the car, only keeping one thing in his hand. He shivered -fuck, it
was colder than it had been earlier - and climbed the steps to the door with
his heart pounding in his chest. Suddenly, he was nervous, and the gravity of
the situation hit him all at once.
It wasn't too late to back out, but... fuck that.
Stomach dropping to between his ankles, Frank fastened his brand new collar
around his neck with shaking fingers. It took him a few tries to get the clasp
to cooperate. Then, checking the street for signs of life and finding none,
Frank rang the doorbell and sank to his knees, pushed his arms together behind
his back and pressed his chin down against his chest, hair falling over his
face.
And waited.
Chapter End Notes
     I am totally not sorry for leaving it there 8Dv
     Let me know if you spot any mistakes - I was in a rush this morning
     and haven't read this through properly yet!
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Summary
     Shit goes down.
Chapter Notes
     Slightly shorter chapter than usual, because I liked the way it
     ended.
It felt like forever Frank knelt there, waiting waiting waiting. Forever before
he heard footsteps and his heart started trying to climb up through his throat,
pulse roaring in his ears. Frank worked on keeping his breathing steady and
even, in, out. In, out. He felt his senses pulling in, gathering themselves
closer to his body as he started to calm, and he carried on. In, out. In, out.
Then, the door opened and after a split second, he heard a loud intake of
breath.
"Wha- what the- Frank?"
Frank said nothing, just carried on breathing. In, out.
"Frank, fuckin'- what the fuck are you doing?"
In, out. In, out. Not moving from his position, Frank opened his mouth.
"I'm eighteen now, Sir."
Mr Way's breath stuck in his throat and Frank heard a rustle of clothing, but
the black socks didn't come any closer.
"Frank, you can't be out here like, like that, fuck, fuck." Mr Way hissed,
sounding panicked. "Fuckin'... Ugh, shit, just get inside."
Frank didn't move, just kept breathing, in, out.
"Now, Frank."
Frank moved. He shuffled forward heavily on his knees, ignoring the way they
scraped against the concrete steps, and stopped the moment he was clear of the
door. Moving was hard. In, out. In, out.
Mr Way closed the door so quickly it slammed, but still Frank didn't look up.
"Frank-" Mr Way started, then stopped just as quickly. Frank could figure out
why. From the back, not only could Mr Way see the ink he'd designed, the ink
he'd trailed his fingers over so lightly that day and sent Frank under, but he
could also see the collar.
"I''m eighteen." Frank said softly, taking advantage of the silence. He
continued staring at the worn hall carpet, his vision fuzzy around the edges.
"I'm eighteen, and I can keep my mouth shut and I've been reading. A lot."
Mr Way didn't say anything, but he did move so he was in front of Frank.
"Frank." He said again. His voice was catching on every other word, shaking on
the rest, "Frank, that- do you- fuck, do you know what that- that collar, what
it means?"
Frank took the opportunity, and looked up. Everything blurred, but he could
make out Mr Way's face, and his bright, excited, scared eyes, clear as day.
"Yes. I want you to keep me, Sir."
Mr Way let out a choked off, helpless sound, somewhere between a groan, a keen
and a what the fuck is going on. Frank let him have his moment, dropping his
chin back to his chest and staying completely still. Breathing. In, out.
Mr Way walked away, and still Frank waited. And waited. And waited. In, out.
In, out. He could be patient, he could be good.
Frank had no idea how long he waited for. Seconds and minutes seemed to blur
together, time dragged and raced at the same time, and still, Frank breathed.
He was patient. He was good.
He didn't even flinch when Mr Way returned, didn't show any outward sign that
he'd noticed anything had changed. Mr Way walked a slow circle around him.
Frank breathed. Just breathed, and let Mr Way look. And again, he waited.
Frank knew Mr Way had opened his mouth before he started speaking. In the time
he'd been kneeling here, knees and shoulders slowly cramping, Frank's entire
world had narrowed down to this tiny hallway, and he could feel the slightest
shift in the air now. It was electrifying, like he was slowly becoming part of
the space instead of just lurking in it.
"If we do this," Mr Way said, quiet but firm, "Nobody can know, Frank. Nobody.
Can you really be okay with that?"
Frank said nothing. He noticed a thin layer of dust along the baseboard.
"You may speak."
"Yes." Frank's voice scratched against his throat, unused for too long. He
cleared his throat.
"Yes what?" Mr Way asked softly.
"Yes, Sir." Frank said. "Nobody."
There was another rustle, and Frank heard Mr Way muttering to himself under his
breath, things like oh fuck and Jesus Christ, what am I doing. He wanted to
look up, to get up and reassure Mr Way, but he'd read enough to know that it
wasn't his place. The best way he could be reassuring right now was to stay
perfectly still and prove he knew what he was getting himself into. And fuck,
did he want it.
"Get up, Frank." Mr Way said eventually, and fuck, yeah, there was that voice.
Frank suppressed a shiver and pushed himself to his feet. He stumbled and
listed dangerously to one side, his knees totally cramped up, but Mr Way was
right there, catching him under the arms before he could do himself any damage.
Mr Way waited until Frank could stand on his own again, then released him and
nodded down the hall.
"Follow me."
Obediently, Frank trailed behind him, still staring at the floor. They passed
by a door on their left and carried on straight ahead, past the stairs and into
the kitchen. Frank heard Mr Way pull out a chair, the legs scraping against the
tile.
"Sit."
Frank sat.
"Drink."
Frank blinked, then lifted his gaze slightly, from his knees to the table top,
where there was a tall glass of water waiting for him.
He drank, swallowing evenly and relishing the coolness on his throat until the
glass was empty. As it had before, the fuzziness clouding his head started to
recede, and Frank's brain started to engage with him again, like he was waking
up from a long, deep sleep. He blinked a few more times, and when he looked up
at Mr Way, the other man was smiling gently.
"Good boy."
Frank's skin warmed under the praise and he ducked his head again.
Mr Way caught him under the chin and lifted it back up, still smiling.
"No. When I praise you, I mean it. You will accept any compliments graciously,
because they are true. Okay?"
Frank nodded, and held Mr Way's gaze this time. Under the table, he flexed his
toes, pins and needles working up his legs as the feeling returned to them.
"Good. I'll never lie to you, Frank, and I expect the same courtesy in return."
Frank nodded again, and Mr Way looked at him pointedly.
"Use your words, Frank."
"Yes, Sir." Frank said, as firmly as he could manage.
Mr Way smiled again, and took a seat at the table. "You can drop the 'sir',
too. We're not in a scene right now; it's not necessary. My name is fine."
"Yes, si- Gerard." Frank corrected, and Mr Way grinned that gorgeous, lopsided
grin that Frank was so taken with.
,"Good boy." He said again, and this time it was coloured with warmth. "Now
that you're feeling more like yourself again, we need to talk. It's all well
and good you turning up here like this, looking like... like that," Yeah, Frank
knew he'd like it, "But I'm still your teacher, Frank. Just because it's not
illegal anymore doesn't make it okay."
"But-" Frank started, but snapped his mouth closed when Mr Way - Gerard - held
up a hand.
"It doesn't make it okay." He repeated. "But like I said, we need to talk.
Seriously, on equal ground, and with all your cognitive functions working as
they should be."
Frank just nodded. He'd been hoping to be so irresistible that Mr Way couldn't
help himself and dragged Frank to his bedroom, but realistically he knew that
was never going to happen. Eh, a guy can dream, okay. Mr Way was far too in
control for that. Frank shivered at the thought. Yeah.
"That's better. Now, I think we've done enough talking for tonight. The rest
can wait until tomorrow. Do you know what time it is?"
Frank shook his head.
"Jesus," Mr Way said, almost to himself. "Frank, it's three in the morning."
Frank blinked, brain scrabbling to keep up. He'd been knelt there for three
hours? Fuck, no wonder his legs felt like they'd been crushed from the thighs
down. He met Mr Way's eyes and saw his own surprise mirrored there. Mr Way
visibly softened and touched his fingertips to Frank's cheek.
"You were so good, Frankie." He breathed, and Frank leaned into the touch
before it was taken away. Mr Way lingered for a long moment, but eventually
drew himself back.
"Do you need me to drive you home?" He asked.
Uhh. "I kind of told my mom I was staying at Mikey's?" Frank admitted. That was
he most he'd said in fucking hours and his voice sounded too loud in the tiny
kitchen.
Mr Way half-rolled his eyes and smiled. "Come on. You're lucky I have a guest
room."
Frank tried not to let himself be too disappointed, and went to fetch his
things from outside.
The guest room, as it turned out, was more of an art studio-slash-storage room
with a futon squeezed into one corner. Mr Way dug through one of the many boxes
stacked against one wall and came out with a pile of clean sheets. They made
the bed together - fucking domestic shit already? - and when Frank came out of
the bathroom, Mr Way handed him a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.
"They'll probably be too long on you, but s'better than sleeping in your jeans,
right?"
Frank nodded his thanks and took them.
"Towels are... around here somewhere..." Mr Way said, then shook his head.
"Never mind, we can find them in the morning. There should be spare
toothbrushes and shit too, my mom wouldn't let me go without giving me fucking
everything she could think of." He smiled, and Frank grinned back. He loved his
mom too.
"Thanks Mr- uh, Gerard. For letting me stay, and, y'know. Not slamming the door
in my face."
Mr Way shrugged and turned to leave, pausing with one hand on the doorknob.
"Just try and get some sleep. Goodnight, Frank."
"Goodnight." Frank replied, and let Mr Way close the door behind him with a
click. He changed quickly, and Mr Way was right, they were too big. But they
were warm and soft and the shirt smelled different, like maybe Mr Way had worn
it to bed himself and forgotten he hadn't washed it yet. Frank buried his nose
in it and smiled into the cotton. Mmm.
His hands flickered towards his collar, the leather pressing gently against his
windpipe, but Frank hesitated before he removed it. Mr Way - fuck, Gerard, that
was going to take some getting used to - hadn't told him he could take it off.
He hadn't told him he couldn't, either, and they hadn't even discussed where
this might be going, but...
Frank switched off the light and snuggled down under the covers. He closed his
eyes and breathed in the musky smell lingering on Mr Way's shirt, then sighed
it out and dropped easily off to sleep, collar still snug around his throat.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Frank woke up slowly the next morning. One breath reminded him where he was,
and he kept his eyes closed to nuzzle further into his pillow. His mouth curled
at the corners as the memory of the night before trickled back to him, and a
deep breath reminded him of the collar around his neck. Yeah. It wasn't so
tight that it really restricted anything, just snug enough for him to really
feel it, the warm weight pressing into his skin when he moved the right way.
Eventually the need to piss forced him out of bed, and once he'd relieved
himself, he borrowed Mr Way's toothbrush. Y'know. Just in case.
Someone was clattering around downstairs, and unless there was a secret
housemate hiding in the basement, Frank was betting it was Mr Way.
Thankfully there was no surprise housemate, and Mr Way was making breakfast,
humming softly to himself as he cooked. Frank clocked a pot of coffee on the
table and made a beeline for it.
The humming stopped, and Mr Way glanced over his shoulder.
"Good morning, Frank." Mr Way's - Gerard, Gerard, Frank, you can do this - eyes
flickered down to Frank's neck, but he turned back to the stove before he could
linger.
The air in the room had turned heavy all of a sudden, but not in a good way
that Frank wanted to wrap around himself like a blanket. There was an awkward
tension to Gerard's - yes - shoulders and he was paying far too much attention
to the eggs slowly cooking in the griddle pan. This was not how Frank had
imagined the morning going, and he didn't like it at all.
"Morning." Frank replied, inhaling the coffee fumes. He spied milk on the
counter, but that would mean reaching around Mr- Gerard, and Frank wasn't awake
enough or brave enough to test how that kind of closeness would go over right
now.
Fuck, did he just imagine the way Gerard was talking the day before? Frank
didn't think so, but the man standing over the stove this morning was not the
man that had sent him to bed with a smile last night.
Gerard brought the eggs and milk over to the table, and Frank topped up his
mug, watching as it swirled from black to warm brown. Toast appeared on a plate
under his nose, and Frank quickly gulped down half of the coffee, wincing at
the bitterness. It helped though, chasing away the last of the sleep from his
head.
"Thanks." He said, mimicking Gerard and scooping eggs onto his plate. They were
overcooked, and the toast was soggy, but Frank ate them all the same, because
you don't turn your nose up at free food. Frank couldn't pretend they were just
quiet because they were eating, and the silence was so awkward it hurt.
About half way through his first slice of toast, Gerard paused with his fork
half way to his mouth. After a long moment, he put it back down, and Frank
watched as he drew in a breath, clearly revving himself up.
"Frank..." He started slowly. Carefully. "I think I... I may have been too
hasty last night."
Fucking what.
"This," he gestured between the two of them, "would be a very bad idea."
Oh, for fuck's sake...
Frank's temper flared up immediately, and he couldn't help pointing accusingly
across the table. Fucking knew it-
"No, no, don't you fucking pussy out now." Gerard screwed up his face in
distaste, but Frank ploughed on. He was angry, he wasn't going to watch his
mouth. "You think I won't go and get this somewhere else?"
Gerard's eyes hardened. "Don't think you can guilt me, Frank. I don't respond
well to blackmail."
Frank shook his head, reigning in his temper a little. "No, that's not- Ugh.
You left me on my knees for three fucking hours last night, Gerard. You had
three hours to think about this, and you fucking agreed."
Gerard dipped his head in agreement, but his words weren't agreeing any more.
"And now I've had another eight, and I don't-"
"So fucking what?! You can't keep doing this to me, Gerard, it's not fair. I
did what you wanted, I stayed away from you the whole time, barely said two
fucking words to you even though I hated every second of it. I disagreed with
you, but I fucking did as I was told." Frank was on a roll now. "You were
fucking into it when I was showing you my tattoo, and when I was jerking off
for you, and even when you were telling me to fucking stay away. You were
really into it last night, don't think I couldn't tell, and you fucking agreed.
You can't keep leading me on then pushing me away again because you can't make
up your fucking mind. What do you think that does to me, Gerard?"
Gerard just stared at him across the table, eyes wide like he hadn't thought of
it that way.
"If we'd met in a bar, would you have brought me home?" Frank asked.
"... Frank, no, I-"
"Be honest." Frank demanded, eyes hard and voice even harder. "Jesus, that's
the least you can do after I fucking presented myself to you like that last
night."
There was a long, pregnant pause, and Gerard closed his eyes.
"Yes, okay." He breathed. "Fuck, of course I would have. God, this is so
fuckin' inappropriate..."
"Why?!" Frank burst out, both hands getting involved in the talking now. "Just
because we had the bad luck of meeting at school, why should that affect
anything that might be between us? Jesus fuck, you know i have feelings for
you, okay, that's not a fucking secret, and you just admitted that in any other
situation, you'd have feelings for me too. I think you already do, even though
you keep telling me it's wrong and inappropriate and whatever the fuck else.
But is it so wrong, Gerard?"
"Because I'm your teacher!" Gerard insisted. Frank was getting really fucking
sick of that excuse.
"So fucking what?! I already told you, I don't give a fuck that you've got some
stupid kind of authority over me at school. I'l happily tell you to go fuck
yourself if you wanted me to take my clothes off for a fucking grade or some
shit, that whole teacher thing doesn't fuckin' intimidate me. I want you to
have authority over me in the fucking bedroom." He paused for breath, chest
heaving, and caught Gerard looking at his collar again. "I'm old enough to
consent now, and I'm fucking consenting."
"I can keep my mouth shut." Frank continued. God, he'd never talked so much in
his fucking life. "Nobody knows about what we've already done, so why should
this be any different? What's so fucking risky? Even if we did something
completely fucking stupid like had sex at fucking school, and someone found out
and squealed on us, what are they gonna do if we both say they're fuckin'
lying? They'd get in more fucking trouble than we would. There's, like,
practically zero risk because I'm not a fuckin' snitch, okay?"
Gerard was clearly beginning to wilt in the face of Frank's vehemence, but he
still didn't seem convinced.
"But... These things don't always work out, Frank, if you change your mind, or-
"
Frank wanted to bash his head against a wall. He'd probably get more fucking
sense out of it.
"Then I'd fucking tell you, Jesus fucking Christ. I'm not gonna go crying to
anyone about it. Fuck, do you really think I would?" He asked, reaching across
the table to cover Gerard's hand with his own. "We're friends first, Gerard, I
would never fuck you over like that."
Gerard dropped his gaze to Frank's fingers curling around his own, and he
slowly turned his hand over so Frank could link their fingers together. It was
awkward and upside down, but Frank could see it for the almost-acquiescence it
was.
"But... Frank..."
Frank knew he was nearly there. They both wanted this, he just had to get
around Gerard's fear and convince him it was worth it.
"I wasn't kidding around last night." He said, firm but soft. Sex had done the
convincing last night, but this morning, over breakfast, things were different.
He hooked one finger under his collar and tugged at it gently. "I know what
this means. What it really means."
"Frank..." Gerard muttered, then carried on, even quieter and buried his face
in his free hand. "Oh God, what am I doing? I'm going to hell. I'm so going to
hell."
Frank carried on over him, squeezing his hand and letting him quietly freak
out. It felt strange to be talking about his feelings like this so openly, but
Gerard seemed to be responding to it so Frank continued, putting everything out
there on the table. "I meant every word I said last night. I... I'm giving
myself to you, but not just... I care about you." Now that he'd said it,
everything else started to come easier. Frank had no idea where it was coming
from, but he meant it all the same. "And I know you care about me, otherwise
this wouldn't be so hard, but all I'm asking is that you give us a chance.
Please, just give us a chance, otherwise we might miss out on something really,
really good. And I swear, if you do, and if there's even a hint of danger, or
you still want to change your mind, then I promise won't fight you. But how can
you really know until you try it? We could be so good for each other... You
just need to let us."
Frank gently tugged Gerard's other hand away from his face and laid them both
flat on the table, their food already cold between them. Pushing himself to his
feet, Slightly worried that Gerard would spook, Frank edged around the table,
and when he didn't flinch away, he sank to his knees beside Gerard's chair.
"Please, Gerard." He said, hardly louder than a whisper. "Just make me yours."
There was a whimper, barely audible, and a quiet, "Frankie..."
Frank bowed his head, palms flat against his thighs, and waited. His heart was
beating wildly in his chest but Frank tried not to show it. He kept his
breathing steady and his head down, trying to project calm and assurance, and
finally, finally, he felt fingers in his hair. They were tentative, just the
tips tracing along his scalp, but as they reached the back of his neck and
curled forwards around his jaw, Frank turned his head into the touch and heard
Gerard sigh above him.
"Fuck... Fuck..." Gerard breathed again, in and out, shaking but heavy. "Okay."
He said, and Frank could scarcely believe his ears. "Okay."
No fucking way.
Frank's head snapped up, jaw slack and eyes wide. Gerard looked down at him,
and Frank tried to read his face like he'd learned from Mikey. He was nervous,
definitely, but fuck, Frank hoped he wasn't wrong in thinking he looked sure of
himself, too.
"Really?" He asked, voice unnaturally high, reduced to single words again.
Gerard swallowed and his fingers twitched against Frank's jaw, but nodded, then
gave a nervous smile. Fucker was totally adorable.
"You're really not going to change your mind again?" Frank wanted to kick
himself for presenting so many opportunities for exactly that, but he had to
know this time. Had to be sure.
"Sure," Gerard said, faking nonchalance, "What's the worst that could happen,
right?"
Frank snorted, turning his head to press his lips to Gerard's fingers. He heard
Gerard suck in a breath, but before he could get his teeth involved to see what
other noises he could draw out of him, the hand was gone.
"Behave." Gerard's voice was still soft and a little tentative, but there was
an edge to it now. Frank liked that edge a lot. "I wouldn't want to have to
punish you so early into our... Arrangement."
Fuck, that was. Actually, really fucking hot. Fuck, what sort of punishment
would Gerard give him? Frank was almost tempted to push harder to find out.
Frank lifted his head just enough to peer out from underneath his hair, and saw
Gerard's hands resting on his knees, so close to Frank's mouth that it would
have been a disservice to ignore them, really. Fuck, it was a dangerous game,
but they were fucking doing this, and the knowledge alone was enough to give
Frank the bravery to act.
He darted forwards and sank his teeth into the fleshy part of Gerard's left
hand, right between the thumb and forefinger. He didn't bite hard, just hard
enough to make his point, and Gerard snatched his hand away with a hissed fuck!
Frank gazed up at him innocently, but Gerard's stare was hard and his voice
turned even harder.
Oops. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea after all...
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter Notes
     I'M SORRY!! I haven't dropped off the face of the earth, I promise!
     Real life totally caught up with me and I wasn't able to find the
     time/inspiration to sit down and finish this chapter in what feels
     like forever. But it's here! I can't promise when the next one will
     be up, but I can promise to work on it as much as I can! <3 <3 <3
     Thank you for sticking with me.
Gerard's stare was hard and his voice turned even harder.
Oops. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea after all...
"Get up. Don't use your hands."
Frank swallowed. He stood awkwardly, almost overbalancing half way, and hooked
his hands together behind his back.
Gerard looked him up and down. Frank kept his head bowed, staring down at where
his bare toes were hidden by the too-long sweatpants he'd worn to bed. He
circled Frank slowly, coming to a stop behind him and leaning in close so that
Frank could feel Gerard's warmth all up his back. Breath tickled his neck and
Frank fought against every instinct he had to press into it, clenching his
fists and staying absolutely still.
Gerard twitched against his back, and when he spoke again it was nervous,
rushed, all falling out in a single breath against the shell of Frank's ear.
"Jesus Christ, Frank, this is your last chance to back out, okay. If you're not
serious about this, you need to fuckin' leave, right now. We can go back to how
things were before, just friends, nothing else has to change but... Please,
fuck, you really need to leave..."
No fucking way was Frank going anywhere. Not a chance in hell. He planted his
feet and leaned back into Gerard's body just enough for him to feel it, and let
out all his breath in one long sigh, going as limp as he could manage whilst
still standing.
A perfect mirror image of him, Gerard stiffened and drew a long breath in. He
traced the edge of Frank's collar with a finger and the hairs on the back of
Frank's neck stood up to attention. Much like his dick if this carried on.
"If I am ever too much for you," Gerard murmured, voice low and thick like
honey, "Say phoenix or tap me three times."
Frank stayed perfectly still until Gerard leaned in even closer.
"If I ask you a question, Frank, I expect a response." Gerard sighed into his
ear and slid a single finger underneath Frank's collar.
Frank shivered. Fuck. Gerard could keep saying Frank's name like that for-
fucking-ever as far as Frank was concerned. He nodded obediently and Gerard
moved back just enough for the air to rush in between them. Yeah, he could
totally blame the shivering on that.
"Good. Now, when I tell you to do something, Frank, you will do it." Gerard
tugged on the collar, hard, pulling Frank back against him, and Frank's breath
and a whimper of surprise stuck in his throat.
"Do you understand me?" Gerard said, low and dangerous, and Frank hurried to
nod again as best he could. Fuck, that fucking voice.
"I'm sorry?" Gerard questioned, pulling harder and up, and Frank had to get up
onto his toes to stay standing. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this was really fucking
happening.
"Yes-" Frank choked out, "Sir, yes, I understand."
Gerard released him all of a sudden and stepped back. Frank stumbled, catching
himself on a chair before he faceplanted on the tiles. Eyes wide, one hand shot
to his neck, fingers coming to rest just below the collar. Jesus fuck, that was
something else.
"Good." Gerard said easily, all trace of venom gone, and gave Frank a happy
little smile. Head spinning from the change, Frank smiled back hesitantly, and
when he didn't say anything Gerard's smile widened.
"Right." He said brightly, seemingly unaware of how Frank was still reeling.
"Now that that's sorted, how about some more breakfast?"
---
While Frank was obviously over the fucking moon that Gerard had finally removed
the stick from his ass, he was less than happy with how much fucking restraint
his teacher seemed to have. When touching was forbidden, Gerard hadn't been
able to help himself, but God, it was like, fucking, now he was allowed to
touch, he had the patience of a fucking saint! Like he wanted to show Frank
just who was boss.
Like now he knew he was in control, and he was fucking loving it.
Frank had left Gerard's place Saturday afternoon without so much as a kiss
goodbye, under strict orders to keep it in his pants until he was told
otherwise, and fuck, on Saturday it had been hot as fucking Hell, having
Gerard's voice, all low and promising in his ear, telling him he wasn't going
to jerk off, was he, not until Gerard told him he could? And no, fuck, of
course Frank wouldn't, like he could ever fucking disagree when Gerard was
breathing along his jaw like that, fuck. Even Saturday night, when Frank had
been hard enough to hammer fucking nails, he'd led on his back to stop himself
rubbing one out on the mattress and shoved his hands under his head, and it had
been awesome denying himself like that, just because Gerard told him to.
But by Sunday morning, it was wearing thin. Frank was fucking eighteen, it
wasn't human to expect a teenager to go more than twenty-four hours without
jacking off. It wasn't right. But still, Gerard hadn't called, or emailed, or
even sent a stupid fucking text to tell Frank he could come. In fact, Gerard
all but ignored him all day, refusing to pick up the phone when Frank called,
and replying to his texts with one- or two-word answers when he bothered. Shit
like sorry, marking when Frank asked what was so important and soon when Frank
demanded to know how much longer, fuck!
By Sunday night, Frank was seriously considering disobeying, because fuck, it
hurt. Just, fuck it, he'd fucking lie, or take whatever punishment Gerard
wanted to dish out. It'd be worth it.
But that would mean admitting defeat. And Frank wanted to, like, prove himself
or something. Prove that he was just as good as someone older, more
knowledgeable, more experienced than him. He could do it, fuck, he could. And
when he was rushed to hospital because his fucking balls had exploded, well,
then Gerard would have to answer to them.
Frank had meant to get to school early Monday morning, he really had. Early
enough that he could hole up in Gerard's classroom and beg, plead down on his
fucking knees if he had to, for Gerard to let him come. But he'd been up late
the night before, tossing and turning, slept through his alarm, taken too long
in shower, and only noticed a text from Gerard as he was hurriedly shoving
books from his locker into his backpack.
See me before class.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Frank was so fucking late. He really didn't want to get stuck
in detention, but... But...
Frank's dick made the decision for him, twitching angrily to show just how
unhappy it was about being ignored for so long.
Fuck it.
---
Gerard didn't even look up from his phone when Frank arrived, and Frank was
about to snatch it out of his fingers when he spoke.
"Good morning, Frank." Gerard was using his teacher voice, but not the one
Frank was so fond of. "Please close the door."
Rolling his eyes, Frank did as he was told, then approached the desk again. He
stood there for a long moment, watching as Gerard's long fingers tapped away at
his phone screen, until he finally, finally tucked it into his back pocket and
looked up.
"I said good morning, Frank."
Frank raised one eyebrow - he'd been practicing in the mirror and thought he
had the 'excuse me?' look fucking down - but replied politely, "Good morning,
Gerard."
Gerard looked around him pointedly, and Frank sighed.
"Good morning, Mr Way."
Gerard smirked. "Good boy." He got to his feet, coming around the desk but
keeping a safe - too fucking safe, Frank couldn't take much more of his teasing
- distance between them.
"I just wanted to check in before you went to class, and see how you were doing
with our little arrangement."
Frank was going to punch that smug fucking smirk off his stupid fucking face in
a minute.
"Fine, sir." He said through gritted teeth.
"Oh, really?" Gerard's eyes sparkled, and yeah, Frank's fist would look really
fucking good right in the middle of them just now.
"Really. Piece of fucking cake." He spat, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Don't lie to me, Frank." Gerard said, tone coloured with equal parts warning
and amusement, and Frank's dick stirred.
"Fuck, fuck you, I fucking didn't, okay? It fucking hurts, but I did as I was
told like a good little boy." Frank glared, and Gerard's eyes went wide with
realisation.
"You... really didn't, did you?" He gaped for a long moment, teacher facade
dropping away, and Frank just stared at him.
"Fuck, you didn't, oh my God-" Frank rapidly found himself being backed up
against the desk, Gerard's hands grabbing at him wildly and still running his
mouth. "-Frankie, that is so fucking hot, Jesus Christ. Fuck, I didn't think
you'd even- all fucking weekend, just- fuck-"
Frank's brain shorted out then, and when it snapped back online Gerard's mouth
was pressed up against his, desperately kissing the life out of him, and fuck
yeah, that was more like it. Frank hurried to get with the program and pushed
his hands into Gerard's messy hair, pulling him even closer and groaning into
his mouth when he finally, fucking finally, got some pressure on his dick.
Gerard kissed like he was falling to pieces, one hand curled around the nape of
Frank's neck to hold him in place and the other splayed out along his jawline,
fingertips brushing the lobe of Frank's ear. Frank opened his mouth eagerly,
and Gerard made a sound like he was dying, fingers tightening on the back of
Frank's neck as he dipped into Frank's mouth with his tongue. Frank felt
himself teetering on the edge of orgasm at the first touch, fire singing along
his skin, and rolled his hips forward eagerly, so desperate for the smallest
touch to send him over the edge, fuck, right there, so fucking close-
And then everything stopped, Gerard was pulling away and pushing Frank back at
the same time, and Frank was letting out the most desolate, pathetic, desperate
little whine he had ever heard. God, he fucking hated himself. And Gerard,
Jesus Christ, did he ever hate Gerard right now.
"No-" Gerard was gasping, shaking his head, "You need to stop, I need to stop,
the door isn't even fucking locked Frank, and this isn't- this isn't the
point."
Like Frank fucking cared about any of that when he hadn't touched himself in
for-fucking-ever and Gerard was right there, all hot and disheveled, and now
Frank knew he could kiss like a fucking porn star, oh, God...
Gerard would step back every time Frank reached for him, running his hands
through his hair and breathing like he'd run a marathon. Frank was about to
stick his own hand down his fucking pants instead when he saw the calm drop
back into place over Gerard's face again and the other man took a step forward,
instead of back. As if Gerard could read his mind, he took up one of Frank's
wrists in each hand and pulled them behind his back, catching them up in
between the thumb and middle finger of one hand as he turned Frank around to
face the door. The grip wasn't tight, and Frank could easily have got away if
he wanted, but fuck, he didn't want to get away. His dick was still throbbing
between his legs, flushed and full, but it was taking a back seat to Gerard,
Gerard, Gerard.
Frank tipped his head back onto Gerard's shoulder, and moaned under his breath
when he felt Gerard press himself up against his back. He was just as hard as
Frank was, and Frank's body ached with the urge to grind back into him.
"You look so fuckin' hot right now, Frankie," Gerard breathed against his neck,
ending on a soft sigh. "Good enough to fuckin' eat."
Frank groaned and shifted his hips, feeling Gerard's cock twitch against him
and his hands tighten around Frank's wrists.
"But now is not the time." Teeth scraped over the lobe of Frank's ear, and it
was all so much stimulation after so long that he almost came in his pants
right then and there. But then he was released and Gerard was stepping away,
and it took every fibre of Frank's being to keep himself from sliding down to
the floor and sobbing like a fucking baby. Fuck.
"Fuck, Gerard-"
Gerard cleared his throat pointedly, "I'm sorry?"
- Mr Way, Jesus, he needed to get back into the habit of thinking of Gerard as
Mr Way again.
"Mr Way... fuck, Mr Way, I can't..."
"You can, Mr Iero." Gerard insisted, circling around to cup Frank's chin in his
fingers. Fuck, it was hot when Gerard called him that. Frank totally got it.
Gerard's touch was soft, but Frank could see nothing cuddly about his teacher
right now.
"You can, and you will. Unless..." Gerard paused, waiting until Frank's tired
eyes met his own. "Unless you want to suffer the consequences."
Gerard's eyes told Frank he very, very much did not want to find out what those
consequences were, and fuck, Frank was so good at doing things he was told not
to, but...
"Okay." Frank choked, voice cracking on the syllables. "Okay, I. I can do this.
Fuck."
Gerard raised an eyebrow and released Frank's chin. "Language, Mr Iero."
Frank's cock twitched, and Gerard smirked, like the fucker knew what that did
to him.
"Get to class." He said firmly, sitting back down at his desk and folding his
hands together.
Frank just looked at him, "I'm late... Could you write me a pass?"
"No." Gerard said simply.
"What! Why not!?" What the actual fuck, asshole makes Frank go all fucking
weekend without getting off, makes him late for class, and then-
"I told you to see me before class, Frank. You were late. It's not my fault you
missed class, and I'm certainly not going to get you out of detention for being
a lazy little shit."
Frank gaped at him, then, when Gerard gave him that irritating, polite little
smile that all the fucking students got, snatched up his backpack and stormed
out of the room, throwing an angry fuck this shit over his shoulder and
slamming the door.
What the fuck. It's like his Gerard had all but disappeared and been replaced
with a fucking dickhead. When Frank had imagined what Mr Way would be like, it
was almost, almost as hot as the night they'd jerked off together, spitting out
all the things they'd do to each other if they could, so caught up in the
moment nothing else mattered, Mr Way's filthy fucking mouth pushing Frank over
the edge. And then, when Mr Way had become Gerard, gorgeous, dorky, ridiculous
Gerard, Frank's imagination had had a whole new side of him to wonder about,
and his daydreams turned from sex, yes, please, to relationships, to Star Wars
and Bowie and ink-stained fingertips. Even when Frank had started thinking
about control, namely not being the one in it, even then, outside of a scene,
he'd always imagined Gerard as he'd grown to know him; happy, kind, gentle.
Loving. Never once had Frank imagined that his teacher, his friend, would be
such a complete and utter dick.
Frank ignored Mr Grossweiner completely as he threw himself into his seat.
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.
***** Chapter 13 *****
Chapter Summary
     Frank's brain thinks too hard.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Frank quietly brooded his way through his morning classes. Mikey demanded to
know what had gotten his panties in such a twist, and when Frank slugged him in
the arm, had scoffed and told him to stop sulking. Frank had just growled in
response because dammit, he was quietly brooding. Frank Iero doesn't sulk,
because he is not a six-year-old girl, fuck you very much.
Frank phone buzzed in his pocket at lunch, and when he ignored it, it buzzed
again. He didn't need to check it to know who was texting him - Mikey and Ray
were sat right in front of him, bickering over which Iron Maiden album was
superior. Normally Frank would be all over that shit because, come on, anyone
who claims Fear of the Dark was anything but fucking revolutionary needs their
head seeing to, but he was still sulki- quietly brooding over the way he'd been
treated that morning.
"Your brother's an asshole." Frank said, clamping his mouth shut when he
realised that, shit, that wasn't just in his head.
Mikey just shrugged. "So tell me something I didn't already know."
"If my dog had your face, I'd shave his ass and teach him to walk backwards."
"Wow." Mikey's eyebrows twitched in Ray's direction, and Frank saw Ray shrug
out of the corner of his eye. "Who pissed in your cereal?"
Nobody can know, Frank.
Ugh.
"Nobody. S'nothing." Frank got to his feet and brushed the grass off his jeans.
"Sorry I'm such a bummer today. M'just gonna..." He waved a hand around vaguely
and headed inside before they could ask any more questions.
He ended up spending the rest of lunch in the toilets - classy as fuck -
wondering what had turned Gerard into such an asshole practically overnight.
Was that how he treated the people he was sleeping with? The people he
supposedly cared about? Was he one of those types of people who were sweet and
kind and funny to make you fall for them, were nice as pie to you in public,
but a total dick once they knew you were invested and behind closed doors?
Gerard didn't seem like that kind of person to Frank. But then, Gerard didn't
seem like the kind of person who got off on tying people up and controlling
them either. Maybe it was all just a front, and that was why Gerard was really
into him - because he was young, small, less able to fight back than someone
Gerard's own age.
Frank shook his head, trying to physically derail that train of thought. That
just wasn't right, that wasn't the Gerard he knew. The Gerard he knew was a
huge dork who wouldn't hurt a fly... unless they asked for it.
Maybe it was the chase that Gerard loved the most. Maybe it was being pursued,
saying no, wanting something he couldn't have, maybe that's what turned him on,
what made Frank so attractive to him. Maybe now Frank was legal and Gerard was
allowed to touch, maybe he wasn't so desirable any more, and Gerard had
realised as much over the weekend. Maybe when he'd kissed Frank this morning,
the realisation had hit him over the head and he was trying to slip back into
teacher mode.
Fuck this shit. Whatever it was, it wasn't cool, and Frank was just giving
himself a headache trying to figure it out.
---
Frank's phone had buzzed twice more that afternoon, and in the end he'd
switched it off so he could at least pretend to be focused in class. He turned
it back on again when he got home, and saw he had five unread messages from
Gerard, but it was only after dinner that he caved and actually read them.
Are you okay, Frank?
Answer me when I ask you a question.
Did I upset you earlier?
Frank, please talk to me.
Frankie, please. I'm sorry. Are you okay?
Frank scoffed and threw his phone onto the bed, then snatched it back up and
typed out an angry reply.
no m fuckin not wtf do u think
Literally thirty seconds after he'd sent it, his phone started to ring. Frank
closed his eyes and sent it straight to voicemail. How the actual fuck did
Gerard think he was feeling. He'd spent all day stewing, the hurt festering and
his temper winding higher and higher every time he pictured that stupid little
fucking smirk and remembered the way Gerard had called him a lazy little shit,
what the fuck.
Frank's phone rang again, and again, he pushed the red button and sent it to
voicemail. After a third try, his phone went silent, and this time Frank threw
it under the bed and left it there while he went to shower. It was that or
homework, and Frank Iero would not be caught turning in homework on time.
The hot water soothed his anger somewhat, and Frank spent longer than he
usually would cleaning every crevice on his body, focusing hard on every inch
of skin so he wouldn't have to think about what his phone was doing right now.
Once he was done, he stood under the spray and let it beat down on him, but for
once his hand wasn't tempted to stray to his dick. Somehow, Frank wasn't in the
mood. Fucking Gerard, asshole, now he couldn't even jerk off to relax.
Irritated but clean, Frank dried off and slung the towel around his shoulders
before dashing back to his room to throw on some pyjama pants and turn up his
stereo. It wasn't even eight yet, which meant he still had an hour to blast
whatever angry music he wanted before his mother made him shut it off. Frank
spreadeagled across his bed and shut his eyes, letting the bass pound through
him as he very decidedly did not think about Gerard.
The music was probably the reason he all but leaped out of his skin when he
felt it start to prickle and opened his eyes several songs later, only to find
fucking Gerard staring at him from his doorway.
"Dude!" Frank yelled, scrabbling to sit up. "What the fuck!?"
Gerard slipped into the room and closed the door behind him, and Frank turned
his music down to a more sociable volume - not that he wanted to be fucking
sociable right now.
"What the fuck are you doing here." It wasn't a question, more a demand, and it
pleased Frank a little when Gerard shrank back under his glare.
"I think we need to talk, Frankie." He said, and Frank's jaw twitched.
"Fucking right we need to talk. What the fuck was that this morning, you- after
everything, what the fuck?" Yeah, he was cursing a lot, no, he didn't fucking
care.
Gerard stepped closer and Frank moved away, watching as Gerard's face fell.
"Fuck, Frankie, I'm sorry." Gerard said, and fuck if he looked like he meant
it. "I pushed too hard. I thought- I'm sorry. I thought we were- you- you
didn't use your safeword!"
"What?" Frank was still angry, but Gerard looked so full of remorse that it was
rapidly dissipating and being replaced with the urge to kiss that look off his
stupid fucking face. Frank really hated himself sometimes.
"I thought, just, like, I thought you were having fun. You didn't safeword out,
so, so I thought we were just playing. You can always safeword, Frankie, if
you're not comfortable with a scene I want you to. I'm so sorry if I upset
you."
"A scene?" Frank repeated dumbly, brain struggling to catch up. "This morning,
that... that was a scene?"
Gerard frowned, and when he stepped closer this time Frank didn't move away. "I
thought you knew. Frank, I was telling what to do. I thought you knew..." He
repeated, and now Frank was starting to feel like the biggest idiot in the
world.
"Fuck. I thought- you were so rude..."
"I'm sorry, I really am, I thought we were just having fun, like a game, I
didn't realise I'd pushed you too far." Gerard's hand brushed along Frank's
bare arm, and Frank shifted into the touch. "Are you okay?"
Frank took the time to think before he replied. "I... think so. I mean, no, not
really, but I'm still... catching up."
"I would never treat you that way outside of a scene, Frank, I mean that. If
you are ever unhappy or uncomfortable with something, use your safeword, that's
what it's there for. It's to let me know you're not enjoying something, and
it's not always about sex. We can scene without sex, and that doesn't make your
feelings any less valid."
Frank nodded. Words were evading him, but fuck, it was so obvious now he was
looking back on it. Gerard had never treated him in that way before, never
looked at him like he was just another student, and fuck, Gerard had been
kissing the life out of him fucking moments before, practically grinding
against him, how the fuck had Frank thought it was anything but part of the
game?
"I'm such an idiot."
Gerard smiled, but shook his head. "No, you didn't know any differently. Come
here." He slid his hand from Frank's arm to his waist, and pulled him in close,
tucking Frank's head under his chin, and Frank let himself be hugged in a way
he hadn't since he was about eight years old. He melted into Gerard's body,
winding his own arms around Gerard's back and smoothing his fingers over the
soft leather of Gerard's jacket. He didn't resist when Gerard slowly walked
them both backwards, and went easily down onto his bed, curling back around
Gerard when the other man propped himself up against the pillows. Sex was the
furthest thing from his mind - well, okay, maybe not the furthest, there was
always, y'know, death - and Frank felt his eyes growing heavy as he listened to
the steady thump of Gerard's heartbeat over the murmur of music still winding
through the room.
Just closing his eyes for a minute wouldn't hurt...
Chapter End Notes
     Sorry for the shortness of this chapter! Another update should follow
     soon! Thank you to anyone who is still here, I love you very much and
     comments are so so welcome and appreciated <3 <3 <3
***** Chapter 14 *****
Chapter Notes
     Update! Not terribly long, but I have a few ideas for the next part
     so I'm hoping that'll help me get back into the swing of things.
     Thank you to anyone who is still here, I love you all!!<3 <3 <3
     (Please point out any mistakes, I haven't really proofed this yet!)
"-ank... Frank?"
Frank stirred awake and burrowed closer to Gerard, nuzzling into the soft
leather of his jacket. It took him far too long to realise it wasn't Gerard
saying his name, and there might have been knocking, and oh, shit-
"Frank..."
His mother was standing in the doorway.
Well, fuck.
"It's past ten, Frankie. I think it's time your friend went home."
She was remarkably calm for a woman who had just found her son in bed with
another man. At least they were both mostly clothed, because the alternative
didn't even bear thinking about.
Gerard's arms tightened around Frank in his sleep when he tried to sit up, and
Frank had to pry himself loose, repeating, "Gerard, Gerard," over and over.
Goddamn, he was a fuckin' heavy sleeper.
"Gerard, wake up, goddammit." Fuck his fucking life, seriously, oh my God.
"Frank Anthony."
"Sorry, Mom. Gee!" Frank thumped Gerard's shoulder and the other man finally
jerked awake.
"Mmf- Sorry, wh, what, fuck, what?" Gerard made stupidly adorable grabby hands
in Frank's direction and Frank, about three seconds from freaking out, slapped
them away like a panicked little girl then folded his arms self-consciously
over his bare chest. Gerard frowned, then seemed to actually wake up, eyes
falling on the figure in the doorway. His mouth dropped open and his eyebrows
disappeared into his hair, all tangled and mussed around his head and damn
Frank wanted to twist his hands up in it and kiss the last of the sleep away so
fucking bad. Instead, he curled his hands into fists and stuffed them further
into his armpits.
Gerard cleared his throat awkwardly and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
Frank immediately felt cold.
"I apologize, Mrs Iero, we didn't mean to fall asleep. I should probably be
going."
"Yes, that's what I was just telling Frank. I'm sorry - I knocked, but nobody
answered. I didn't realise you were sleeping."
God, they were both being so fucking polite, and all Frank wanted to do was
crawl under his bed and hide. This was not how he wanted to come out to his
mother, but it's not like she was going to believe they were just friends now.
They weren't just sleeping, they'd been fucking snuggling. The 'just friends'
card totally wasn't going to fly.
"Right, uh. Right. I'll just." God, Gerard was cute when he was flustered.
Frank begged his brain to shut the fuck up already and catch up with the rest
of him in freaking out, but Gerard was running his fingers through the rat's
nest on his head now, jacket pulling deliciously across his shoulders, and
Frank dragged his eyes back to his mother to find her watching him.
Fuck.
They both followed his mom downstairs in silence, keeping a respectable
distance between them. She turned into the kitchen when they reached the front
hall, and sent Frank a look over her shoulder.
"I'll just be in here."
Jesus. No matter what words she used, he knew when she was really saying we
need to talk.
Maybe he could just slip out with Gerard? And then, what, never come back? Ugh.
Fuck Frank's fucking life.
"Shit, Frankie, I'm sorry-" Gerard whispered in a rush, glancing over Frank's
shoulder, "I really didn't mean to fall asleep, fuck, I'm sorry, do you think
she'll realize I'm, you know, shit-"
Following Gerard's gaze and seeing they were definitely alone, Frank planted
his mouth firmly on Gerard's to shut him up. It took a moment, but soon Gerard
was kissing back, fingers curling around Frank's waist. Frank shuddered at the
touch, bare skin on skin, and had to force himself to step back instead of
pressing Gerard up against the front door and dropping to his knees.
"Not your fault, s'okay." He murmured breathlessly, pressing their foreheads
together. "And you know I won't tell her. Just... I guess it's now or never,
huh."
Gerard's lips twitched in a wry smile. "Do you want me to stay?" He whispered,
and Frank shook his head.
"I got this. S'probably better if my boyfriend-" God, that sounded weird,
boyfriend, "-isn't there for this conversation."
"You sure?" Gerard pressed, running his hands down Frank's arms and cupping his
elbows as Frank shrugged.
"She hasn't thrown a hissyfit and kicked me out yet, so how bad can it go,
right?"
Gerard nodded, although he still looked worried.
"I'm not gonna tell her you're my fuckin' teacher, okay?" Frank hissed, and
Gerard tightened his grip on Frank's arms.
"No!" He said firmly, then lowered his voice. "That's not- Frank. Just. Call me
before you go to bed?"
Fuckin' adorable bastard. Frank softened and pressed his mouth to the corner of
Gerard's. The asshole was turning him into a proper little pussy, and Frank
didn't even care. "Sure. Now get lost before she comes back out here."
Gerard cracked a smile and kissed Frank once more before disappearing into the
night.
Right.
Frank braced himself, and went to join his mother in the kitchen.
She had her back to him, elbow-deep in fluffy suds as she washed the dishes.
They had a dishwasher, but Frank suspected she was trying to look busy on
purpose. She looked round as he came in, and he could tell her smile wasn't
strained, not really. It calmed his pounding heart a little, and he sat.
"So..." She started, breaking the silence and turning back to the sink. “Your
friend is older.”
Frank hummed noncommittally, picking at his nails.
She didn’t call him on it. “How did you meet him?”
“He’s Mikey’s brother.” Frank replied without missing a beat. Not a lie! he
crowed internally. He was totally pro at this shit.
“I see.”
Frank rubbed his palms against his thighs. Just say it, pussy. Out with it.
"... I guess now is probably a good time to tell you I- I'm... gay?"
"Is that a question?"
Frank stared hard, and her lips... twitched.
"... Are you mocking me?" He asked incredulously. No fucking way.
His mom shrugged like it was no big deal. Come on.
"I'd suspected as much."
"Fu-" Language, language. "Seriously?!" Frank's voice was edging dangerously
close to dog-hearing levels of pitch. "But-"
"Oh, Frank." Frank's mother smiled kindly as he gaped like a fish, and covered
one of his hands with her own. "You're eighteen years old, and you've never
shown the slightest interest in a girl. I'm your mother, not an idiot."
"But... You..." Frank's brain was stuck on an endless loop of what. What. What.
-
“She fucking knew!” Frank hissed down the line, “The whole fucking time!”
He’d been stuck on the same loop of what. What. What. What the fuck just
happened ever since he’d managed to escape to his room to call Gerard. His
mother hadn’t quite given him the talk, thank fuck, because you’re eighteen,
Frankie, I know you’re a sensible young man, but she’d gotten close enough that
he was squirming in his seat, and had made him uncomfortable enough that he’d
agreed to invite Gerard over for dinner just to get away from the table.
Gerard made a small noise of sympathy, but otherwise stayed quiet while Frank
continued to splutter disbelievingly.
“She never said a word, and this whole time I’ve been fucking, fucking freaking
out about her finding out, and I don’t even fucking know why because there is
nothing wrong with being gay, okay, but the fucking- fucking church thinks I’m
a fucking embarrassment, and like, a sin, which is just fucking ridiculous, how
the fuck is falling in love with someone a sin, seriously?! How can they think
they’re big enough and special enough to decide something like that when there
are so many people proving how wrong they are? And I spent all this time
thinking, thinking, and she, she didn’t even-“
“Frankie-“
Frank stuttered to a halt, Gerard’s voice soft and warm in his ear. The cheek
he had pressed to the phone was burning, testament to how long he’d been
talking for, and he drew in a long, shaking breath, one hand dropping to cover
his eyes as he flopped onto his back, rubbing the soles of his feet against the
bundle of blankets at the foot of his bed.
”Falling in love, huh?”
Frank’s other cheek flamed to match, and he pressed hard enough with his
fingers that tiny white pinpricks of light started to burst beneath his
eyelids.
“Shut up. That’s not-“ Frank breathed out, opened his eyes. Closed them again.
Shit. “That’s not the part that you’re supposed to be focusing on.”
Gerard just grinned – Frank could tell without having to see him – and Frank
took the moment to hang up on him.
Falling in love. It had just come out, he hadn’t even really been thinking
about it, just letting his mouth run away with itself, and fuck, he should
really know better than that because it had gotten him in so much trouble in
the past, but it was Gerard and he’d never had to filter himself around Gerard
before – except in class, obviously. And he’d definitely said falling, not
fallen, so there was that. Yeah. Totally cool.
He was so fucked.
His phone buzzed happily under his ear, and he yanked it out with a grunt.
From: G
Sleep tight, Frankie! :D xo
Chipper asshole. Frank tossed his phone onto his nightstand and dragged the
covers up and over himself, trying with every fibre of his being to not think
about the crazy day he’d just had.
Fuck. My. Life.
***** Chapter 15 *****
Chapter Notes
     I did a thing! This isn't dead! At least, not completely. I apologise
     if it's been so long that you have to re-read anything to remind
     yourself what on earth this is even about >_<
     This chapter is for 5sosleepy, chicken_skink, saratza, AllThingsEnd,
     and everyone else who kept coming back to comment months after I
     posted it to remind me to KEEP GOING because for some reason people
     care about the stuff I write and want to like, read it >_> <3 Love
     you guys!!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
When Frank was rudely awoken Tuesday morning by his blaring alarm, he barely
stumbled into the shower before his dick decided to remind him it still hadn't
got what it wanted, hello, what the fuck is the hold-up. He'd been distracted
enough the day before by everything that jerking off hadn't even crossed his
mind - fuck, what was happening to him? - but today, it had returned with a
vengeance.
He was suddenly desperate to rub one out, the withdrawal and desire of the past
weekend catching up with him and taking the breath right out of his throat, but
after realising that sometimes Gerard would scene with him outside of the
bedroom, Frank had realised he was very, very interested in that kind of play.
Instead of taking his time in the shower, Frank quickly scrubbed himself clean,
struggled to take a piss with his cock hard and aching, and brushed his teeth,
then flopped down on his bed to air dry and grabbed his phone.
good morning, sir. i have a problem this morning that i’d like your permission
to deal with please
Pretty fuckin’ polite, if Frank did say so himself. He clenched his hands into
fists as his dick throbbed angrily, muscles tensing as it twitched and strained
towards him. Fuck, he’d never denied himself for so long before that it was
painful. Hopefully Gerard would get the message without much more prompting,
and wouldn’t decide to be a dick about it….
Gerard’s reply came less than a minute later, and Frank grinned to himself as
he opened it up.
Good morning, Frank. Does it hurt?
Frank didn’t need to hear Gerard’s voice to know he was being facetious.
Asshole.
yes sir
It wasn’t too bad, yet, but Frank could see the time he had left before he’d
have to sprint to school slowly ticking away, and he didn’t really want to rush
it.
Poor thing. Can you be good and handle it for a little longer for me?
Well, fuck. How could Frank say no to that? Fuuuuuuck. His fingers twitched,
but Gerard’s message ticked the back of Frank’s head. Can you be good. Fuck,
fuck, fuck. Yes, Frank could be good. He wanted to be good. He wanted
desperately to come, too, but after his little meltdown yesterday he really,
really wanted to show Gerard that he could do this.
yes sir
He kept his reply short, hoping to come across as acquiescent and willing, and
not like he was barely hanging on by the skin of his teeth.
That’s my boy.
Frank’s heart stuttered. He could hear Gerard speaking, that’s my boy all warm
and soft and proud in his ear, and yeah, okay, fuck it. He could totally do
this.
 
Frank’s phone kept buzzing, once on the way to school and once during each of
his morning lessons, with little messages from Gerard. Not quite words of
encouragement, but enough contact that Frank felt a tiny bit of relief every
time, each one helping him ignore the growing discomfort he was in for a little
longer. How much longer though, that was the question burning between Frank’s
ears, because fuck, it was really starting to hurt now, and every time he tried
to think decidedly un-sexy things to will it away, Frank’s imagination
helpfully stuck its metaphorical middle finger up at him and reminded him that
Gerard could fucking kiss, and if he could kiss like that, Jesus fucking
Christ, how incredible must his mouth be?
By the time Gerard’s next text came, Frank was moments away from holing up in
the boys’ bathroom and just dealing with it.
Come to my room when everyone goes for lunch.
Frank could have whooped with joy. He didn’t – he was supposed to be writing an
essay on Animal Farm, yawn – but it was a close call. He spent the last ten
minutes of English doodling haphazardly in the borders of the paper and trying
very hard not to think about what Gerard might have planned for him. He did not
want to consider that Gerard, in fact, had nothing planned and was just going
to tell him to keep it in his pants until the weekend. Frank might just keel
over and die in protest.
When the bell rang, Frank dodged Ray’s questioning look then ducked and weaved
through the throng of students pouring into the halls going in the other
direction. He didn’t bother knocking when he made it to the empty art room,
just hovered in the doorway until Gerard looked up from his paperwork.
“Hello, Frank.” Mr Way had his teacher-voice on, and it sent a shiver down
Frank’s spine.
“Hi, Mr Way. Um…” Frank shifted from foot to foot, and Mr Way smiled at him,
apparently taking pity.
“Come in, please. Could you close the door?”
Frank did, and turned back to see one of Mr Way’s strong eyebrows raised. His
eyes flicked from Frank’s to the door handle, and Frank, taking the initiative,
clicked the lock into place and pulled down the blind.
Gerard’s smirk broke through his teacher exterior before the calm slipped back
into place, and he tipped his chin towards the desk and chair directly in front
of his own.
“Please, sit.”
Frank sat.
“How are you feeling, Frankie?”
The voice was Mr Way, but the nickname smoothed Frank’s frazzled state, and he
squared his shoulders, sitting up straight in his chair like a good student
would.
“Fine, thank you Sir.”
Mr Way raised that eyebrow again and Frank felt a little bit smaller.
“Don’t lie to me, Frank. How are you feeling?”
Frank swallowed. Oh. Right. “Uh… Uncomfortable, Sir. It… kinda hurts, now.”
Mr Way nodded, apparently pleased with Frank’s answer. “And what have you done
about it?”
“What?” Frank responded immediately, then realised his mistake. “Sorry, Sir,
that was rude of me. I haven’t done anything about it, you told me not to.”
There was that smirk again, but with a little twitch around the edge like it
wanted to be a smile. Frank wanted press his mouth to that little twitch and
taste it.
“Good boy,” Mr Way said warmly, and Frank couldn’t help preening a tiny bit
under the praise. “You’ve done so well for me, Frank. You deserve a reward, but
I don’t think this is the right place for it, do you?”
Fuck. If he was going to make Frank wait the rest of the fucking day, Frank was
going to like, pull something… or something. He bit back a whimper and shook
his head, voice barely more than a whisper. “No, Sir.”
Mr Way’s mouth twitched again, like he knew how much Frank was struggling right
now, and Frank was slowly feeling less inclined to kiss it and more likely to
punch it off his smug little face.
“Don’t worry, Frankie, I’m not going to make you wait any longer. You’ve been
so good…”
Jesus Christ, could he read minds now too?
“… So fucking good.” My Way sighed, mask slipping around the edges and the
desire seeping into his eyes. “Do you want to come now, Frank?”
The words had barely left his mouth before Frank was doing a fucking fantastic
impression of a nodding dog, fingers digging into his thighs in anticipation.
“Yes, Sir, please-“ Frank stopped abruptly when Mr Way put a finger to his lips
to quiet him, then, almost as an afterthought, parted his lips ever so slightly
to rest his tongue against the tip of it. Frank couldn’t hold his whimper back
this time, God, when had he got so fucking desperate?
“Go on.” Mr Way said, voice low.
Frank’s brain stuttered to a halt. Wait, what? He looked at Mr Way, at Gerard,
opened his mouth, and closed it again. Was that an order? It had sure sounded
like one, and Frank knew better than to question an order. Mr Way gave him
another pointed look, both eyebrows lifting like Frank was being deliberately
obtuse, and well, fuck, okay then. Apparently that’s how they were going to
play it today.
Frank’s fingers relaxed on his thighs and he shifted his hands to his belt,
undoing the buckle and shimmying his jeans down a little. He was rock hard in
his boxers, had been all fucking morning, and the elastic was barely holding
him in check now that his jeans weren’t there to help. Gingerly, he peeled the
fabric away, sucking in a breath because holy fuck, it hurt so bad. Once his
cock was free, Frank was able to shove the bundle of denim and cotton down
around his thighs. The plastic chair was hard and uncomfortable, but Frank was
too focused on being able to finally, finally wrap his fingers around his dick.
It pulsed in his hand, full and red and fucking desperate, and Frank spread his
legs, bracing himself more comfortably.
“Wait.”
No, no, please, no, nonono-
Mr Way was coming closer, was right beside him and was reaching under the desk,
and Frank had a crazy moment of maybe, fuck, maybe he’ll- before Mr Way was
tugging his hand away and oh God, he was going to fucking cry if Gerard made
him stop now. But Frank needn’t have worried. Mr Way lifted Frank’s hand and
slowly drew each finger into his mouth, tongue curling around them one by one
and getting them nice and wet. Before he let go, he spat into Frank’s palm, and
fuck, that should be fucking disgusting but he’d just had Frank’s fingers in
his mouth and it was so hot and wet and now he was going to let Frank jerk off
with his own fucking saliva, Jesus Christ Frank was going to come the second he
got a hand back on himself.
“Come on, Frankie,” he murmured against the shell of Frank’s ear. “Show me what
you like.”
Holy shit. Frank’s balls tightened and for a panicked second he genuinely
thought he was going to come all over himself. The feeling subsided quickly,
but left an enticing thought in the back of his head that he’d definitely be
mentioning to Gerard later, when they weren’t playing.
Frank wrapped his now spit-slick hand around his cock and groaned, shocking
himself at the pitch of it, and he tried to swallow it down, he really did, but
it had been so long and it felt so fucking good that Frank’s hand started to
move of its own accord without engaging his brain, and his body couldn’t keep
up. He could feel it everywhere, pleasure and heat singing along his skin and
down deep inside, coiling in his belly and sitting heavy in the back of his
throat. Frank only realised he was still moaning when the sound of Mr Way’s
voice floated through into his consciousness, telling him shh, Frankie, shh,
it’s okay, and then, when Frank very much didn’t shh, more sternly, Frank, you
need to be quiet. But fuck, Frank wasn’t in fucking control anymore, okay,
something primal and neglected had taken over and Frank was just along for the
ride. He tightened his fist around the head of his cock, Gerard’s own saliva
slicking the way so fucking good his toes were curling in his sneakers, and
suddenly something was covering his mouth, slipping inside and pressing down on
his tongue, and Frank’s whole body jerked and pressed into it, sucking greedily
on Mr Way’s fingers and tonguing at the pads of them. It muffled the sounds he
was making, and Frank started to hold his breath as he sucked, only drawing in
ragged pants when he couldn’t bear it any longer. It shouldn’t, fuck, something
so simple shouldn’t, but it ramped him higher still, and when Mr Way pressed
down harder to shut him up, fingers dancing dangerously close to his gag reflex
and forcing Frank to breathe through his nose or suffocate, Frank’s world
exploded in white, his shout echoing off the walls despite My Way’s fingers
gagging him.
When he came back to himself, Mr Way’s hand was gone, but he was letting Frank
rest his cheek on his stomach and carding his fingers – the dry ones of his
other hand – through Frank’s hair. Frank hummed happily, pressing into the
touch like a cat, and Mr Way pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
“Such a good boy for me, Frankie, but fuck, you need to learn to be quieter in
school.”
Part of Frank’s brain wanted to point out that they probably shouldn’t be doing
this in school, but a smarter part of his brain beat it into submission because
Jesus fuck, doing it in school was hot. Instead, he just hummed, hoping it came
across as apologetic, and turned his head to kiss the softness of Gerard’s
stomach. He wasn’t using his teacher voice anymore, so Frank felt safe in the
assumption that they were back on even footing again. He could feel Gerard’s
erection against his chin and moved towards it, but Gerard sank to his knees
instead and drew Frank into a soft kiss.
Frank all but melted against him, brain still mostly offline from the strength
of his own orgasm, and he let Gerard kiss him, gentle and thorough, until they
were both panting for air. When they parted, Frank’s eyes slid open to find
Gerard watching him warmly, a smile curling his mouth and dancing in his eyes.
Fuck, I love you, he thought suddenly, the feeling kicking him in the stomach
and stealing what breath he had left from his lungs. Frank didn’t say anything,
but something about the shine in Gerard’s eyes told him he didn’t have to.
Chapter End Notes
     You guys are wonderful, seriously. Thank you for sticking with me.
     Please, please comment, because you guys give me the motivation to
     carry on. And please hit me with any ideas you have for the direction
     of this fic, or even single scene ideas, because I am STUMPED, MAN.
***** Chapter 16 *****
Chapter Notes
     This is for everyone who was so, so patient with me, and everyone who
     cheered and shouted and commented and reminded me that this fic
     exists and you guys aren't ready for it to end yet <3 I love you all.
To Frank’s dismay, sort of, his Mr Way very rarely came out to play when they
were at school. Sometimes he’d catch a glimpse though, when he was being a
little shit in class; a twitch of his lips or a glint in his eye, and Frank
would know he was just there, hovering under the surface. It was usually enough
to nudge him back into line – unlike his other teachers, who would either shout
at him and put him in detention, or just sigh resignedly… then put him in
detention. Frank spent a lot of time in detention, okay.
Mr Way rarely came out to play at all, really, but it’s not like they managed
to get much time alone together to explore that part of their relationship –
mostly during the week Frank was glad to get a sideways glance and a wonky
smile as the other kids were rushing out of the lesson. Friday nights were his
favourite. After their art period together, Frank would start walking home then
double back and take the back route to Gerard’s place, cutting across the river
and through the park. Gerard would normally make it home around the same time
Frank did, using a more direct route instead of joining Frank on his ~covert
mission~, and they’d order pizza and do homework and watch shitty movies until
Frank’s stupid-ass curfew. And despite Frank’s efforts so far, that was really
all they did. Sure, there was the odd makeout session on the couch, Gerard’s
hands in his hair and his thigh between his legs, but the moment it started to
get heavy, to Frank’s eternal fucking frustration, Gerard kept backing off.
Frank was starting to feel like a teenage girl being fucking wooed or some
shit.
“No, no no no, no you don’t, get back-“ Frank’s grabby hands caught Gerard’s
chin and shirt when he tried to back off a-fucking-gain. He was getting
seriously sick of that bullshit, okay, “-get back here, stop that.”
“Stop what?” Gerard asked, face a picture of innocence and confusion between
the quick, closed-mouth kisses he was planting on Frank’s mouth now.
“Fu- stop stopping every time it starts to get fucking good.” Frank was about
three seconds away from manhandling Gerard down onto the couch and fucking
taking his control away from him, it had been weeks since Mr Way had watched
him come so hard he lost his fucking mind, and Frank wanted more of that. Fuck,
did he want more of that.
“Frankie-“ Gerard murmured, his voice muffled by the insistent kisses Frank was
still giving him, “Frank, Fra- Frankie, wait, Frank, wait.” When Frank most
definitely did not wait, Gerard curled his fingers around Frank’s throat and
pushed gently, first just enough to make Frank’s dick throb with interest, then
firmer until he had no choice but to remove his teeth from Gerard’s lip.
“Wait.” Gerard said again, blinking away the desire in his eyes.
Frank pouted and flopped back against the cushions despondently.
“Why do you keep doing this to me?” Frank definitely wasn’t whining, he just,
he just wanted to touch his boyfriend, okay?! He said as much to Gerard, and
Gerard grinned.
“I like hearing you call me your boyfriend.”
Frank shrugged, mollified by the wattage of Gerard’s smile. Gerard leaned in
for another too-short kiss then, when Frank’s pout threatened to return, hooked
his fingers under Frank’s chin to brush their noses together.
“I just don’t want to rush this,” Gerard said softly, resting his forehead
against Frank’s. “Just because we had a… non-traditional start, doesn’t mean I
want to treat you any differently than I would in a normal relationship.”
Frank bristled. “This is a normal relationship, don’t-“
Gerard stopped him with his mouth, then carried on. “That’s not what I meant.
You don’t have to be so defensive all the time, Frankie.” Frank’s mouth
tighentened around the edges – defensive was like his natural state of being or
something – but Gerard continued before he could say anything.
“I’m doing my best not to be hung up on the way we met. You were totally right,
that’s not the reason we’re doing this and it has nothing to do with the reason
we connected so well in the first place. It was just bad luck. But you can’t
deny that this really started when you showed up on my doorstep in a collar.
That’s one hell of a non-traditional start, Frankie.”
Frank flushed. Maybe Gerard had a tiny point.
“Anyway,” Gerard tipped Frank’s chin back up for another kiss, “Since I stopped
taking anything and everything I could get my hands on, I haven’t really had a
serious relationship. Before that it was whoever I could get to put their hands
on me wherever we were at the time, and those are memories I’d rather not
relive if I can help it.”
Maybe not, but Frank’s dick was very interested in the idea of Gerard bending
him over a table and spanking him, or pushing him hard and face-first up
against a wall, maybe in a dark corner of a seedy bar where anyone could
stumble upon them and- fuck. Well on the way to being completely hard again,
Frank shut that thought down before it could go any further.
“My point,” Gerard was saying, “Is that I want to do this right. I know we’ve
done some things… I’ve watched you do some things-“ Fuck, it sounded hot when
he put it like that- “that aren’t really ‘taking it slow’ but-“
Frank really, really couldn’t help it.
“Like when you stuffed your fingers down my throat?” He said innocently,
preening inside when Gerard choked on his soliloquy and closed his eyes.
“Yeah,” he breathed softly, swallowing. “Exactly like that. But-“
“Or how about before that, when you were telling me how bad you wanted to get
your mouth on my cock and had your own fingers stuffed down your throat?”
“Fuck-“
“Or,” Frank trailed the tips of his fingers down over Gerard’s adam’s apple,
“when you wanted to have me come right. Down. Here, then stretch me open around
your cock? What about then?”
“Jesus Christ, Frank. I just.” Gerard sounded a little short of breath now. “I
just don’t want to rush into anything.”
“Who’s rushing?” Frank murmured, brushing his mouth over the corner of Gerard’s
lips. “Not me. The past few weeks have been fuckin’ awesome. But when you say
things like that, when kiss me like you want to make me come without ever even
touching me, fuck, Gee, it drives me crazy.”
Gerard grinned at that, eyes glittering. “Yeah?”
“Fuck yeah. And after everything, I am so fucking ready for you to stop
watching and finally touch me yourself.” Frank nipped at Gerard’s jaw then
soothed it with his tongue. “I wanna touch you.”
“Yeah?” Gerard asked again, and his smile was starting to take on the edge
Frank was so excited to see. “Do you think you could?”
“Could what?” Frank frowned, and Gerard’s voice turned mischievous.
“Come without me ever touching you.”
Desire twisted around Frank’s gut. “Fuck, I… don’t know. After you made me go a
fucking lifetime without jerking off I kinda thought I could, maybe, but I
don’t know. I wanna fucking try though.”
The grin fell off Gerard’s face and he grabbed Frank’s face up in both hands
and telling him, “Oh my God Frankie that is the right fuckin’ answer,” before
kissing Frank breathless and stupid.
Instead of clambering on top of him, Frank let Gerard press him down into the
couch cushions and cover him with his body. It was good – not new, but so, so
good to feel all of Gerard up against him, to feel how much Frank affected him
hard and insistent against his thigh. Frank tried to shift for a better angle
but Gerard had trapped him, one knee holding Frank’s leg still and the other
keeping his thighs apart. He wriggled and grumbled into Gerard’s mouth but he
wouldn’t let up, and tugged Frank’s wrists up over his head instead, trapping
them both with one hand.
Frank tried to complain, to tell Gerard he wanted to touch him, goddammit, but
it was pretty hard to speak with Gerard’s tongue in his mouth and, oh holy
fucking shit, with Gerard’s dick grinding down against his own. Frank keened
high in his throat when Gerard got the angle just right, trying desperately to
move with him but Gerard had him pinned and unable to do much more than push
back against Gerard’s weight helplessly.
Gerard worked his way down Frank’s jaw to his neck, nipping and sucking at the
sensitive skin while Frank gasped for breath. He let go of Frank’s wrists just
long enough to yank the shirt over Frank’s head and fuck, yeah, Frank was so
with the program right now. Before he could get his fingers in Gerard’s hair
like he really wanted, his wrists were trapped again, Gerard’s grip tight and
unforgiving no matter how hard Frank pushed against it. Frank wriggled and
writhed but Gerard held fast, like he knew Frank didn’t really want to get
free, just wanted something to fight against. The more Frank wriggled, the more
Gerard pushed and the harder he held, and fuck if it didn’t wind the orgasm
coiling in Frank’s belly tighter and tighter.
Dipping his head back down again, Gerard picked up where he’d left off,
mouthing his way down Frank’s neck and over his shoulder, down until his tongue
flicked over Frank’s nipple and Frank tossed his head with a grunt. Shit, his
nipples had never been so fucking sensitive before. Gerard toyed at it with his
tongue and teeth before switching to the other, and just as Frank was ready to
beg, moved to a clear, fresh spot of flesh just below where Frank’s T-shirt
neckline would sit. He hummed happily against Frank’s skin before sinking his
teeth in and chuckling when Frank’s sharp cry became a moan of delight.
Frank whimpered as Gerard continued to worry at the skin between his teeth,
sucking before biting down again, and Frank could hardly find the words to beg.
His orgasm was hovering just out of reach, so fucking close, closer with every
smooth roll of Gerard’s hips, Jesus Christ, how could he go from the awkward
dork Frank was used to hanging out with to being able to move like that, fuck.
He pushed against Gerard again, desperate for a little more, and felt the bones
in his wrists grind together as Gerard forced him back.
“Fuck, oh, oh please, please, Gerard please, oh shit, please, please,
pleasepleaseplease-“
Too late Frank realised the voice was his own and pried his eyes open to see
Gerard smirking down at him, mouth red and used and in that moment all Frank
wanted was to bury his fingers in Gerard’s hair and watch him take his cock all
the way down his throat. Fuuuuuuck so fucking close, shit.
“Come on, Frankie,” Gerard said, voice dripping with sin as he rolled his hips
again, leaning in to whisper in Frank’s ear. “You’re a horny teenager. Come in
your fuckin’ pants for me.”
Gerard dipped his tongue into Frank’s open mouth and curled his fingers around
the curve of Frank’s waist, and Frank fell to pieces with a cry, his body held
fast but his muscles tense and straining to be carried along with the strength
of his orgasm.
“Shit-“ Gerard gasped, using both hands to hold Frank down now, “Oh, Frank, oh,
Frank-“
Frank opened his eyes just in time to see Gerard squeeze his own shut, face
screwed up in a picture of bliss as his grip on Frank tightened even more and
he grunted, his rhythm faltering as his hips jerked erratically then slowed
gradually to a stop.
“Frank.” Gerard breathed again, head dropping down to catch Frank up in an all-
consuming kiss.
Later, as Frank was lying in bed replaying the evening with a hand tight around
his dick, he realised something. Fuck, it was good, it was so fucking good, but
Gerard, the asshole, still hadn’t let Frank fucking touch him.
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