F*ck and Run

Gerard bit his lip and took one last glance at the sleeping tattooed form on the bed before silently slipping out of the room.
He released the breath he’d been holding as he tiptoed his way to the other end of the apartment in search of his coat. He remembered taking it off when they had started kissing on the couch. He picked his shirt up off the floor where it had stayed - crumpled and cold - since the tattooed guy pulled it off of him in their race to get undressed the night before. He slid the tattered white shirt over his head, ignoring the chill it sent down his spine.
His worn, black wool coat was tossed over a chair beside the couch, just as he had assumed it would be. He pulled the coat over his shoulders, feeling the muscles pull in protest, and did a quick 360, scouring the small room for anything that might belong to him. He didn’t want to leave any evidence of his presence. That was a mistake Gerard never wanted to make with anyone ever again.
He felt a little twinge of emotion in his chest as glanced over at the misfits record still sitting on the turntable beside the two empty coffee cups.
He almost wished he hadn’t fucked the guy.
Not that the sex wasn’t incredible… It was incredibly incredible.
They’d just talked a bit more than Gerard usually preferred to when picking someone up. He didn’t mind exactly because Freddie (or Brent? Brandon? Felix? Whatever the guy’s name had been) had been really funny and cool. Gerard could picture himself hanging out with a guy like him and it sucked just a little bit that they’d never see each other again.
He glanced around at the record collection, the beat-up guitar leaning against the chair in the corner, and the half-assed punk decor, taking it all in one final time before toeing into his shoes and silently moving towards the door. He made sure to twist the lock on his way out so that the sleeping guy wouldn’t have to face any unwanted intruders.
Even if Gerard didn’t intend to ever see this guy again... the last thing he needed was a pretty, tattooed murdered guy covered in Gerard’s DNA.

The sun was just coming up over the Manhattan side-street as Gerard headed for the nearest subway entrance. His hips and back and arms hurt in all the right places as he took the walk of shame down the street. His hair felt weighed down from all the product and his cologne had worn off. Needless to say, he felt a little gross, which was to be expected after a night like that.
He lit a cigarette and tried to remember if the comic store opened at ten... or was it eleven? There was a small amount of satisfaction to be felt, considering that the need to fuck anything that would permit him to had been reduced to a dull roar.
He caught the train uptown towards his apartment, thinking about a long hot shower, comic releases and his brunch plans with Mikey.

By the time he got home he’d forgotten all about where he’d woken up and why.
~

It was a few hours later that Frank woke up.
He yawned and stretched, feeling his leg muscles protest against the sudden movement. It took him a moment to work through why he was so sore.
When everything about the hot, wolfish, dark-haired guy he’d brought home the night before came flooding to the front of his mind, he sat up and looked around the room in search of him.
Only to find that he was alone.

He wasn’t ready to accept disappointment just yet.
He listened carefully for any signs of movement in his apartment. The gurgling of the coffee maker, the pounding of shower water, even the turning of pages of a magazine. Anything to confirm that the guy hadn’t left in the middle of the night.

All he could hear was the rush of morning traffic outside. He could almost pretend it sounded like a waterfall if it wasn’t for all the car horns and the distant sound of helicopter blades chopping through the air.
He slid out of bed and wandered down the hall, shivering against the faint chill of the quiet apartment. No matter how much he spent on heating, the old building had a draft that always breezed through regardless. Frank liked to tell people it was haunted.
There was no note on the fridge or on the counter. There was no sign anyone had even gotten a glass of water or anything like that. The apartment was as it always was.

The only thing Frank had to remember Gerard by were the slightly disheveled couch cushions, an empty coffee cup and the small purple lovebites littering his shoulder.
He hadn’t bothered to get Gerard’s last name or his phone number. They had talked for hours before they started kissing but it hadn’t really come up. Frank hadn’t expected him to be gone in the morning.
There wasn’t really any benefit to finding Gerard now, anyways. Not if the guy had only been looking for sex.
At least Frank had gotten off. Holy shit. Gerard had really fucking gotten him off...
Frank should have known it was too good to be true, if the things Gerard could do with his tongue were anything to go by.

He stared down at the phrase “HOPELESS ROMANTIC” inked into the webbing of his hands and couldn’t help but find the words a little inappropriate and ironic in that moment.

Notes

so i've had some writers block w/ my other fics and decided to start another one (??)
sometimes getting lost in a new plot is all it takes. <3
also i've been wanting to write werewolf!Gerard for awhile now.

lemme know what you think??
-m