You're So Dark

“Mikes,” Pete says while he’s digging through Mikey’s closet, trying to find a t-shirt he’d be able to wear without it being too tight or too darn colorful.

“Yeah?” Mikey looks up from the comic he’s reading. His glasses are low on his nose and he looks too darn adorable for his own good.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure, but put your shirt on first. Your naked upper half is distracting me,” Mikey says flatly, making Pete laugh.

“No shame,” he rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I think you know what this is about. Uh, I’ve been thinking,” he says when he manages to put one of Mikey’s Anthrax tees on.

“About what?” Mikey’s tone turns more cautious, and he puts the comic to his side on the bed.

“About us.” Pete sits beside him. “Uh, I think I might be ready.”

*

“Call. Her.” Ryan shoves the phone into Patrick’s hand, who just looks at Brendon pleadingly.

“Nuh, uh, Pat, Ry is right. You have to call her and ask her out,” he says in his strict teacher voice, and Patrick is now wondering if all his friends have some weird teacher fetish. Then really kinky scenes enter his head, and he needs to blink a few times to shoo them out, inaudibly cursing on Gerard and Brendon for turning his brain into an NC-17 movie.

He whines. “But why?”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “If you won’t, I will. And I fucking bet you I won’t hold back from saying really suggestive things.”

Brendon nods, looking completely serious. “He’s going to mention the D word, even.”

Patrick’s eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.” He glares at Ryan, whose face shows nothing but pure, angelic innocence. “Argh, give me that thing.”

Now the couple is grinning and Patrick hates them both. He dials Hayley’s number and ignores the sweat already trickling from his forehead. Fucking hell.

*

“Your mouth tastes like fucking blueberries,” Gerard mumbles against Frank’s lips.

“Is that a good thing?” Frank smirks and gives Gerard’s hair a stronger pull.

“Let me think…” kiss, “I’ll let you know…” kiss, “when I…” kiss, “decide.”

Frank chuckles lightly but lets Gerard give him soft, open mouthed kisses continuously until he can’t stand the lack of contact anymore and pulls him closer. He moves onto his neck, finding a spot that makes Gerard’s fingers curl forcefully into the fabric of Frank’s t-shirt and lightly nibbles at it. Gerard is breathing heavily against Frank’s shoulder, letting out a few whimpers here and there as Frank is marking his skin.

It feels like they’ve reached a whole new level of intimacy, at least for Gerard, because, even though he’s gotten and given a fair share of hickeys in his short life, this is much different. It’s something like a commitment, but without the bond being mentioned between the two people committing. He’s never thought of hickeys as important because he’s probably never liked anyone as much as he likes Frank, and solely the fact that it’s Frank marking him as his as we speak is making Gerard’s blood boil inside his vessels.

“Is something wrong?” Frank mumbles when he moves his lips away from the forming bruise he’s just made, and sees Gerard’s face.

“No,” Gerard smiles reassuringly, “everything’s okay. I was just thinking.”

“About what?” Frank attaches their foreheads together, their noses almost touching and eyes burning into one another’s.

“You,” Gerard admits, blushing, “and hickeys. And a little about coffee.”

Frank chuckles and bumps the tip of his nose lightly against the pointy part of Gerard’s. “You think about coffee even when you don’t know you’re thinking about coffee.”

“Same goes for you. I mean, not the coffee thing. I mean it as in I think about you even when I don’t know I’m thinking about you.” Gerard is oblivious to where this sudden confidence to confess random crap about his stupid thoughts came from, but he just goes with it because Frank’s face looks kind of promising.

He smiles widely and kisses him again, gentler this time. Gerard makes a quiet noise, something between a groan and a whimper, making Frank smile against his lips and caress the skin of his neck. Frank is so caught up in every movement Gerard’s body makes against him that he misses to hear the click of the front door opening.

“Ah, man, when did we establish the rule of ‘no sucking face with girlfriends on the couch’? Years ago, wasn’t it-”
Ray cuts himself off when Gerard turns around, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Frank just sits there, his hands draped on Gerard’s folded legs and eyes still a bit hazy from a few moments before.
“You’re not a girl,” Ray observes.

“Uh, I think you probably know who I am,” Gerard says, unsure.

Ray just gawks at him for three minutes straight, and then doubles over in laughter. Gerard looks at Frank, confused, who just pulls him down onto his chest with a smirk and waits for Ray to stop laughing. “You know, I shouldn’t be on board with this shit. But I so am.”

“That’s because you like to break the law,” Frank snickers, “remember sophomore year in high school?”

“Ah,” Gerard sighs exasperatedly, “My brother is giving me enough shit about being with a teacher already. I’ll get in so much trouble if you’ve killed someone, too.”

Ray laughs and Frank rolls his eyes. “No, but we drew a giant graffiti on the side of our school saying ‘Morrissey rocks and our principal can go suck cocks’.” Gerard is looking at them with an amused and slightly horrified face, making them both giggle. “It’s because we went to a Catholic school and we sang ‘Ouija Board, Ouija Board’ on the homecoming dance. Our principal spazzed out and suspended us for plotting against God or something.”

Gerard snorts. “’Morrissey rocks and our principal can go suck cocks’. Hm. Look how the tables have turned.”

Frank kicks his side playfully as Ray is honking again. “I like this kid, Iero.”

“I like him, too.” Frank smiles, looking at Gerard, who blushes fiercely and starts fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

*

“Uh, I was wondering if you’d… uh, are you, like seeing anyone? Yeah, uh…” Patrick is babbling into the phone and Brendon is giggling at how fucking stupid he is, while Ryan is facepalming at every ‘um’ and ‘uh’ he drags along his sentence. “Yeah, that would be great, uh,” facepalm, “I’ll pick you up at like, um,” facepalm, “seven-ish? Yeah, Okay. See you then.” Patrick hangs up and looks at them with a flushed face.

“For the only person in our crew who can talk properly without using the word ‘fucking’ to emphasize everything and ‘dickhole’ to confirm it, you’re pretty dumbfounded when it comes to girls, dude,” Ryan notices and Patrick glares at him.

“Shut the fuck up,” he sneers and Brendon starts laughing.

“Dude, we just got you a date. You should be thanking us.”

“Ugh, sorry,” Patrick sighs. “I just hate you so much.”

“We know,” Ryan smirks.

Notes

I GOT SKELETON GLOOOOVES.

Sorry for the length and the shittiness. I just didn't feel like writing, but I had nothing else to do.