Gerard startled awake when he heard the wooden floorboards up above him creaking. He stretched his sore limbs and rolled over to wrap his arm around Frank, only to find he was alone in the bed.
“Frank?” He called out into the darkness softly. He sat up and squinted in the dark, trying to look for any signs of his un-lover. It was hard to make sense of anything when the room was pitch black. There was no light pouring in through the small windows along the top of the far wall, which meant the sun had already gone down.
He tried to stifle a yawn as searched the darkness for the glowing red numbers of a digital clock, but he didn’t find any. He had no idea what time it was or how long he’d been out. His mouth was dry and he really had to pee.
He drowsily slid out of the bed, forgetting all about the boxes littering the floor. His foot connected with the corner of one of the boxes and his sore muscles protested as he very nearly saved himself from crashing into another stack of boxes. He let out a deep breath and felt along the wall beside the door for the lightswitch. Eventually he found it and flipped the lights on, shielding his eyes from the light that flooded the tiny bedroom.
Frank’s room did not contain any way to tell time, which sort of fell in line with everything else Gerard could surmise about younger Frank.
Gerard held completely still and listened to the sounds coming from upstairs. His heart sunk when he picked out multiple sets of footsteps. He thought he could make out Frank’s voice… And a second voice, higher in pitch. If Gerard had to guess, he’d say he slept through his opportunity to avoid meeting Frank’s mom.
He wanted to run a hand through his hair but his hand wasn’t exactly clean. His palm was stiff with the come he hadn’t bothered to wipe off before passing out. He glanced down at his clothes to find they were also pretty covered in the telltale substance. Why had he worn black? Come was 300 million times more noticeable when it was dried into the black fabric. It would be awful hard to fake the nature of his un-relationship with Frank if it was written all over his… clothes.
Between the one-night-stands and the lycanthropy, Gerard was an evolved quick-thinker. He pulled his shirt off -which had suffered more staining than his pants- and started peeling off the tape on the cardboard box closest to him, smirking when he pulled back the cardboard flaps and found the box to be full of clothes from Frank’s high school wardrobe.
High schooler Frank had been much smaller than him, and apparently liked his band t-shirts impossibly tight, so it took a considerable amount of time to find something that would fit him. ‘Fit’ wasn’t even the right word. The black sweatshirt he eventually pulled on was incredibly tight on him. He didn’t recognize the logo on it but at least it wasn’t covered in come.
After tugging hopelessly at the sleeves of the sweatshirt for a brief moment, Gerard gave up and let his eyes roam over the details of the small room. The place was like a fucking time capsule. The posters on the walls were all approaching a decade in age. The shelves of dusty horror novels and the complimenting record-collection solidified Gerard’s previous claims that he would’ve been completely in love with Frank if they’d known each other in high school. Especially if Frank had dressed the way he was dressed earlier that day.
He supposed he was maybe in love with Frank now, though pinning down his feelings with words only seemed to do them an injustice. It was so much more complicated than love...
Everything about this mess made Gerard feel like a fucking teenager. Hell, he looked like a fucking teenager. And so did Frank, for that matter.
Gerard’s heart nearly stopped when he heard footsteps on the basement stairs. There was a fleeting moment where he wasn’t sure if he should try to look busy or not but before he could find a busy-looking activity, the bedroom door was swinging open.
It was just Frank, thank God. He’d changed his clothes and had a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment. The residual guilt of their earlier heated exchange of words was still present in Frank’s eyes.
“Nice sweatshirt.” Frank said softly, passing Gerard the mug like it was a peace offering.
“Thanks.” Gerard mumbled, smiling weakly.
The mug was fucking hot to the touch. He had no idea how Frank had carried it down the stairs. It must’ve been those adorably stupid fingerless gloves he’d been wearing all day. He quickly set it down on the edge of the bookshelf beside him, making sure not to slosh any liquid onto the dusty surface.
“So…” Frank started, clearing his throat nervously, “My mom got home sooner than I thought she would. And like, you don’t have to-” He stammered, “Like… We could just slip out-”
“I have no problem meeting your mom, Frank.” Gerard interrupted. He knew what Frank had been about to say. He couldn’t believe he would suggest something so immature. Their situation was feeling more and more like fucking high school all the time.
“Really,” Gerard continued, trying to sound reassuring, “It’s not a big deal.”
Frank just pursed his lips and nodded his head. He was still staring at Gerard awkwardly. Gerard wanted Frank to stop looking at him like that. He also wanted him to stop standing in the doorway and just come in the fucking room already. He took a step forward and pulled Frank by the front of his shirt into the room.
“You’re gonna stretch out my-”
“Oh, am I?” Gerard teased, closing the door behind them, “You would know the first thing about that, wouldn’t you?”
“But Gerard, I like this shirt.” Frank whined softly, glancing down at his shirt and prying at Gerard’s fingers to uncurl them from the fabric. It was a white shirt with a faded black and white image that read ‘The Smiths’ underneath. It wasn’t as tight as the shirt he’d been wearing earlier, but Gerard liked it just as much.
“Are you trying to tell me I didn’t like all the shirts you stretched out?” Gerard flirted, letting go of the shirt and framing Frank’s face with his palms.
“No.” Frank whispered as he stared up at Gerard with traces of apprehension and guilt still flickering in his eyes. Gerard could practically see the apology on his lips. When he leaned forward to kiss Frank, he swore he could taste the apology.
Kissing Frank was scarier now that he knew he was in love. Gerard wasn’t sure if people kissed differently once they decided they were in love. He thought for a moment that he might somehow give himself away with how he pulled Frank closer.
Frank let himself be pulled in, wrapping his arms around Gerard’s neck as he kissed him back all slow and sweet. Frank’s lips felt the same as always. They were sweet and intoxicating like always.
Maybe they both had to be in love for it to feel different? Gerard couldn’t decide if the way Frank kissed him back had changed over time. Now that it was on his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder if Frank loved him back. He had a thousand good reasons not to love Gerard.
But he’d said he trusted Gerard, which almost meant more than love ever would. Trust was highly valued and hard to find among werewolves and people who liked to sleep around, alike. It went without saying that it was impossible to find among people who fell under both categories.
Frank pulled his lips away and looked up at Gerard again, opening his mouth to start his apologizing.
“Please don’t apologize.” Gerard said softly.
“But-” Frank breathed.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Gerard countered, shaking his head. It was true. Even if what Frank had asked of Gerard made him a fucking hypocrite. Gerard was the one who should be apologizing. There were so many things he was sorry for.
Frank just sort of blinked up at Gerard in surprise for a few moments. His arms still hung loosely around Gerard’s shoulders. Gerard’s arms were still wrapped around his waist. He was afraid to move them, for fear that Frank would take it the wrong way. As the moment passed, he could feel the nervous tension slowly draining from Frank as the words sunk in.
“Can I ask you something then?” Frank whispered. “It’s unrelated to… well, that.”
“Sure. Anything.” Gerard said, smiling reassuringly.
“You have to promise not to laugh.” Frank warned, raising an eyebrow.
“I won’t laugh.” Gerard promised.
“...Or, I’ll try not to.” Gerard amended. “I can’t promise…”
Frank nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Can you... read minds?” Frank asked simply, darting his eyes away from Gerard’s, then back, then away again.
Gerard thought for half a second that Frank was joking, but his face was too fucking serious for him to be joking.
“Is it just my mind? Can you read my mind?” Frank asked further.
“No?” Gerard answered, though it sounded more like a question than an answer. It hadn’t been a question Gerard was expecting at all.
“Why would you think I-? No. I can’t.” Gerard clarified, hugging Frank tighter, “...You have no idea how much I wish I could, honestly.”
Frank stared hard into his eyes. Gerard didn’t know what the fuck he was looking for. Maybe he was looking for evidence that Gerard was lying? Maybe if you were in love with someone they could see it in your eyes and Frank was looking directly at the proof. Either way, panic started to curl in Gerard’s chest.
“Um, why do you ask?” Gerard found himself asking, swallowing hard.
They both startled when they heard footsteps on the basement stairs.
“Frankie?” an older woman’s voice called out.
Frank quickly slid away from Gerard and pulled the door open.
“What is it, ma?” He called up the stairs.
“Sorry to bother you, but you put the tea on the top shelf again. You know I can’t reach it up there. Could you get it down for me?” Frank’s mother called.
“I’ll be right up!” He replied.
He turned to look at Gerard.
“You wanna come up with me?” he asked softly.
Gerard glanced down at himself, and then back up at Frank.
“Well… Here’s the thing.” Gerard sighed, running his hands over the stains on his jeans.
Frank glanced down at the come stains and let out a breathy laugh.
“She won’t notice.” he promised, shaking his head
“Yeah. But what if she does.” Gerard argued.
“She won’t.” Frank repeated. “She’s kinda spazzy like me. The tea probably isn’t even on a shelf she can’t reach, she just can’t find it.”
“Uh. Okay… but Frank, if she fucking notices…” Gerard sighed.
“What’re you gonna do? Sue me? Come on.” Frank said, beckoning for Gerard to follow him, “She’s really nice. She’ll love you, I promise.”
Gerard let out a dramatic sigh and silently followed closely behind Frank as he made his way up the stairs. His heart beat quicker and quicker with every step.
A small woman was bent over the counter, chopping away at something Gerard couldn’t see from where he was standing.
“Um, Ma,” Frank started, clearing his throat, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
She turned around and puffed on the cigarette dangling from her lips. She didn’t look much like Frank. Gerard could see a similarity in the eyebrows, and they more or less had the same nose. Maybe their hair would’ve been the same if Frank didn’t dye his black.
“Ma, this is Gerard. Uh, Mikey’s brother. You remember Mikey, right?” Frank asked cheerily, waving a hand in Gerard’s direction.
“And Gerard, this is my mom.” he continued, waving the same hand towards his mom.
Gerard held out his hand to shake her hand, but felt immediately awkward about it when Frank’s mom eyed his hand for a moment before taking it in hers.
He hadn’t known Mikey had already met Frank’s mom. He wasn’t sure if he hated Frank or Mikey more for not slipping in that little detail. Parents always fucking loved Mikey for some reason. Gerard wouldn’t have gotten so worked up about meeting Frank’s mom if he’d known she’d already met MIkey.
“Hi Gerard,” she said politely, “Call me Linda.”
When she finally let go of his hand, Gerard glanced over at Frank, who was taking in the whole exchange with an unfair amount of amusement. He shot Gerard a small smile and turned to flip through the cabinets and find the tea for his mom.
Gerard may or may not have started plotting his revenge...
“That was Frank’s favorite sweatshirt in high school.” Linda said, eyeing the snug sweatshirt Gerard was wearing, “I can’t believe he’s letting you wear it.”
Gerard felt his stomach drop and silently prayed that her eyes wouldn’t go any lower.
“I was just… helping Frank go through some of the boxes downstairs and decided to put it on. I’m not even sure what this logo means.” Gerard said, pulling at the front of the sweatshirt and glancing down at it.
“That’s the Dead Kennedys logo.” Linda explained, with a look of surprise on her face, “You don’t know about the Dead Kennedys? Never thought I’d see the day my boy brought someone around who didn’t know about them.”
“I know plenty of people who don’t listen to the Dead Kennedys.” Frank whined with his back still turned to them. He’d gotten to the top shelves and had to stand on his tip toes to push things around. Gerard had a hard time not staring at his ass.
“My baby’s growing up.” Linda chuckled, puffing her cigarette.
Averting his gaze, Gerard’s eyes landed on a box of tea sitting on the kitchen counter in plain sight.
“I’m sorry but uh… is that the tea you were looking for?” Gerard asked, pointing to the box.
Both Frank and his mom turned to look where Gerard had pointed.
“That would be it.” Linda said. “In plain sight. Sorry I made you come up here, baby.”
“It’s fine, ma.” Frank said, “We’ll be downstairs for a bit. I just wanted to pack a few things before heading back to the city.”
“Alright,” Linda said, “I can drive you to the train station when you’re ready.”
Frank headed for the stairs to the basement, and Gerard followed behind him. He stopped and turned at the top of the stairs to wave at Frank’s mom.
“Was nice to meet you.” Gerard said.
“You too, Gerard.” She nodded.
Gerard grinned at her before quickly slipping down the stairs after Frank.
“Show him your Dead Kennedys records, honey.” Linda called from the kitchen.

It took Frank almost two hours to pack, not that Gerard minded one bit. He loved that Frank was so slow about everything all the time. Everything distracted him. Gerard had no fucking clue how he ever made it through high school. Homework must’ve been impossible when there were churches to burn down.
Gerard sat on the edge of Frank’s bed and watched as he dug through the boxes. He sipped on cup after cup of coffee, wondering what the fuck he was going to do about how hopelessly in love he was. He wanted to tell Frank, but he wanted to do it right. It had to be perfect after the way they’d handled things. He couldn’t just blurt it out. They spent a lot of time going through Frank’s record collection. About 10 LPs of other punk bands Gerard didn’t know had made it into his bag for later listening. He had to stop Frank after that. There was no way he was carrying any more records all the way back to Manhattan. They agreed they’d just have to come back once Frank had found a new apartment.
After they got everything together, they piled into Frank’s mom’s car. It wasn’t uncomfortable like Gerard had thought it would be. Linda was somehow almost cooler than Gerard’s mom, which took Gerard by surprise. He sat in the back seat and listened to Frank and Linda chat away in the front seat about apartment viewings and all the punk bands Gerard didn’t know about.
In his defense, there were probably dozens of bands Gerard liked that Frank had never heard.
“Thank you so much for letting him stay with you, Gerard.” Linda said as the car pulled up to the curb in front of the train station.
“It’s no problem at all.” Gerard said warmly.
“You two have a good night. Stay warm. Be safe.” Linda cooed, kissing Frank on the forehead.
When Gerard slid out of the car and lifted his bag over his shoulder, it definitely felt like Frank had slid a few extra records in. He couldn’t help but smile at his un-boyfriend’s constant mischief.
It had gotten much colder. Gerard buttoned his coat all the way up to the top and again, regretted forgetting his hat and gloves.

It was when they were huddled together on the platform, waiting for the next train, that Frank started look at Gerard all guilty and apologetic again. They were no longer at risk of Frank’s mom overhearing, but they weren’t exactly alone either. Gerard glanced around the platform and saw a teen girl sitting on a nearby bench. She had headphones on, but if Frank wanted to have a messy, public conversation about their sex life, then he was going to have to be the one to initiate it, not Gerard.
Frank didn’t start apologizing, though. He just kept looking at Gerard with his sorry puppy eyes. It was torture. He hugged Frank close so that he wouldn’t have to look at it any longer.
“I’m sorry I don’t know about the Dead Kennedys.” he mumbled against Frank’s hair.
“I don’t give a shit.” Frank laughed. “You know about them now. That’s all that matters.”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice the extra LPs you stuffed in my bag.” Gerard complained.
“Sorry… I was just worried you hadn’t heard ‘Dear You’.” Frank chuckled.
“Of course I’ve heard ‘Dear You’.” Gerard gasped.
“You didn’t know about Dead Kennedys… so I guess I just assumed you’d never heard Jawbreaker.” Frank teased.
“I’m unpunk, but I’m not that unpunk.” Gerard countered.
There was a sort of lull in their conversation then. Despite the nap and several cups of coffee Frank had made him, Gerard was still exhausted.
He mouthed an ‘I love you’ against Frank’s hair to try and get an idea of how it felt on his tongue. The idea of actually saying it made him want to puke. It was too scary to admit out loud. He wasn’t ready for that yet.
Frank yawned loudly, almost comically, against his coat, freeing him from his anxious thoughts.
And then suddenly the train was there. Gerard had been too distracted to even see it coming.

The train was mostly empty so late on a weeknight. They took up 3 seats. One for Gerard and two for Frank. He curled up on the seats and rested his head in Gerard’s lap, passing out in minutes as the train pulled out of the station.
Gerard stroked Frank’s hair and let his mind wander in it’s dizzying, anxious circles...
If Frank was going to be staying with him, Gerard supposed there were some things they needed to discuss.
There was the whole ‘love’ thing. Gerard already knew how poorly that was going to go.
And then there was the whole ‘oh yeah, by the way, I’m a fucking werewolf’ thing.
Gerard wasn’t sure which conversation was going to suck more. He just prayed Frank would still want to even fucking talk to him if he knew he’d charmed his way into the heart of an actual monster.

Notes

being in love is soooo unpunk.
it's been saturday for 6 hours but tgif anyways.
comments? questions?

-m