One-Shot series

Frank coughed, trembling in his huddled self on the bathroom floor.
"No," he croaked. "I don't even need to bathe today, really." He inwardly grimaced at the idea of not bathing for the third day in a row, though. He'd managed to escape for a while,
but not tonight. Gerard stood before him, taking his shirt off and tossing it to the floor.
"You gotta, bro," he said.
Frank stared at the discarded shirt, and panic washed over him. "You don't think you'll be bathing with me, do you?" He stared up at Gerard with a condescending gaze, hoping to
shoot down any hopes that Gerard might have.
But Gerard rolled his eyes, not phased at all. "No. I'm not apt to putting myself in a more vulnerable position to catch your flu-shit than I already am."
"Thought you didn't care anymore." Frank muttered. He inhaled a wheezy breath and coughed again.
"That damn disease you've got…" Gerard said, sighing. "I can't believe they let you go home if you can't even bathe yourself." Gerard turned the faucet on the tub, and it heaved as a
strong stream of water hurled itself down. Frank groaned, knowing now that there was no turning back. He was going to be bathed by Gerard – how humiliating.
"I can do it myself," Frank protested anyway. "I just…they said excessive movement would jumble up the shit in my lungs or something, I dunno, but—"
"But basically," Gerard continued for him, "that'd it'd be better if someone did it for you." He grinned down at his friend, who looked away sheepishly. His hair was matted by sweat
from being bundled up in blankets for the past few days.
"Aw, come on, man." Gerard bent down to Frank's level. Frank kept his face away, but his eyes flashed Gerard a quick glare; his attempt at seeming menacing was devoured by
another coughing fit.
"I also need to make sure you don't pass out and drown or something," Gerard added, shaking his head in response to the pity he felt for his sick, feeble friend.
Frank exhaled a sharp, angry breath – coughed – and stated dryly, "Let's just…get it over with."
Gerard rose to his feet without a word and offered a hand to Frank, who took it reluctantly. His weak grasp was accompanied by Gerard's healthier, strong one. He pulled Frank to his
feet, keeping him stable as he at first stumbled awkwardly but eventually found his balance. The blankets slid from his shoulders onto the floor. Frank automatically reached for them,
but Gerard grasped both his shoulders and held him in place, saying, "No ya don't. That crap will need washed later."
Frank didn't protest; he was eyeing the slowly rising bathwater nervously.
"Gerard…" he started slowly. Gerard was shuffling through one of the bathroom drawers now, looking for a new bar of soap. Another cough tickled its way up Frank's chest, and he
tried to stifle it, but couldn't, and thus another hacking spree began. Frank leaned against the wall for balance as he heaved and coughed, but soon he felt Gerard pulling him back
fully on his feet. He eyed Frank curiously, but waited until his coughing fit passed; he made sure to angle his body away from Frank's as much as he could, keeping a distant hand on
his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Frank gasped between coughs into his inner elbow. He used his sweatshirt to muffle it as much as he could.
"Because it's your fault," Gerard replied sardonically. He raised his eyebrows at his friend after the coughing had paused, waiting for another round, but when it didn't arrive, he asked,
"So what did you want?"
"I was just gonna…ask if you were going to try anything weird. Because you better not."
Gerard only laughed at this. And he kept laughing. He laughed enough to cause Frank to grimace again, but also blush. He ran his hands through his hair. "Come on," he said sternly. "I
mean it. I don't feel well."
Gerard hushed his laughing only to speak again: "Clothes off, Frankie."
This was the worst part, and Frank dearly wished he could convince his friend to let him take his own damn bath. It wasn't the fact that he had to get naked and shit in front of him –
of course it wasn't that, but it was just the…situation.
Frank continued his thoughts out loud: "This is humiliating."
Gerard didn't reply. Hastily, and much to Frank's horror, he grabbed the bottom of his sweatshirt and lifted it off Frank's head. Frank's cries of protest were smothered by the fabric,
and as soon as the sweat shirt was off, Gerard unsnapped Frank's jeans and pulled down the zipper.
"Hey!" Frank yelped, managing to swat the hands away, but Gerard took advantage of his clumsy, weak state and spun him around. Frank's back landed against Gerard's chest, and
the movement rattled his own chest; through more coughs, he struggled to tear Gerard's fingers from his pants as he pulled them down.
Finally, Gerard impatiently said, "Stop fighting me before you kill yourself."
"You—" cough, "—bastard."
"It's for your own good. You wouldn't be coughing if you would stop squirming." But Frank, at last, managed to reach behind him and push Gerard away. He pulled off his pants the rest
of the way by himself. Closing his eyes, he tore himself quickly from his boxers and threw them against the wall. He blushed in embarrassment as he felt the eyes of his friend behind
him.
Hands reached from behind Frank, curling around his shoulders and touching his chest. Gerard pulled him into him; Frank weakly gave in to the treatment.
"Now, you aren't afraid of being naked in front of me, are you?" Gerard whispered into Frank's ear. Frank's bare skin tightened as a chill ran through his neck – this time a chill not from
being ill.
Frank shook his head stiffly.
"Then everything should be okay, right?" Gerard's hands slid down Frank's torso, causing his muscles to tighten uncomfortably. His hands halted just below Frank's naval, then traveled
up again. Frank couldn't have Gerard doing this, not now – and so he pushed himself from Gerard, purposely ignoring the question he was asked.
Frank helped himself into the tub.
The water was hot, almost too hot. His scalp tightened as he submerged one foot, then the other.
"Not too hot, then?" Gerard said, leaning against the sink and watching Frank carefully.
Frank scowled and yanked the shower curtain in front of him. "Don't watch me like that, you sicko," he whined.
Gerard chuckled but didn't reply, nor did he bother to take the shower curtain from Frank's hold.
Frank didn't let go of it until he had sat down in the tub; the water was nearly half a foot deep and it occurred to him that he hadn't taken a bath like this since he was young. With
that in mind, he was instantly more embarrassed than he already had been. He was going to be treated like a little boy, not only supervised but washed.
"I know I can wash myself," Frank tried protesting again. "I can, I can." This wasn't just a protest, but a plea: a plea to be spared from the humiliation of having Gerard shampoo his
hair and run a washcloth across his body for him. Oh, the thought of that sent another sickly chill twisting down his spine…
"Well maybe I want to wash you, Frankie," Gerard pretend-pouted, his arms crossed.
Frank ignored him and laid himself back in the tub so the wall could support his back. The water steamed slowly, soothing his muscles and lungs and well, his entire body. He shivered
a little still, and he realized his fever from earlier was coming back. He submerged himself into the water more, deciding that it'd had to substitute for a blanket.
Frank closed his eyes. "We need a hot tub," he tried on Gerard.
The water had still been gushing from the faucet this entire time, but now Frank heard the faint squeak of the faucet handle turning; the water slowed, then came to a complete
stop. A few drops plopped into the water where his feet rested, the drip drip the only sound in the new silence.
"Did you hear me, Gee?" Frank asked. In the silence the rasp in his voice was more noticeable.
"Mmm," made up Gerard's reply.
Frank opened his eyes tiredly, and there Gerard was, kneeling on the floor outside the tub with his elbows propped on the ledge. His face rested in his hands. He was in the middle of
giving Frank a studious up-and-down with his eyes when Frank splashed water in his face.
Gerard jumped up. "Aw man!" he exclaimed, wiping water drops from his face and drying it with his bare arm. "I don't want your germy water all over me! What was that for?"
Frank was sitting up now and had pulled his knees to his chest defensively. "Leave if you're just gonna watch me like that." He scowled at his friend stubbornly.
"Oh, all right," Gerard said, and at first Frank thought he meant he would leave, but much to his dismay, Gerard added, "I'll start washing you now, buddy."
"That's not what I meant," Frank objected, but he sounded defeated. He knew he was.
Gerard lifted himself to his feet and proceeded to dig through the cupboard under the sink. Frank waited, idly cupping water into his hands and pouring it on his chest and arms. He
looked around him for the soap.
"Where's the soap bar, Gee?" Only soap residue was left on the bathtub ledge, leaving a gross, scummy mess. Not even the shampoo bottle was in sight.
"I have them up here with me, don't worry."
Frank sighed, his sense of defeat renewing itself.
There was the sound of plastic tearing, and after a bit more shuffling under the sink, Gerard stepped back and turned to Frank to reveal a wad of cloth coated in coarse, horse hairlike matting. Gerard looked proud as he kneeled again by the tub again, slipping it around his right hand.
"It's a glove," Frank said flatly. Bloody hell, it was a sponge glove. He felt his skin begin to crawl with the idea of being washed like this.
"Or I could just use my bare hands," Gerard stated coolly, adjusting the glove. He glanced at Frank, and exactly then, a fever-derived chill sent him shuddering.
Gerard understood. "Fever," he remarked flatly and shook his head. "This is good." His eyes had begun grazing Frank's body again and stopped to linger over his penis.
"What?" Frank snapped as a response to Gerard's remark and as a futile attempt to distract his friend's gaze. The bathroom air was filled with steam, yet it was cooler than the bath
water; as Frank was tossed into a bout of insecurity by Gerard's uncouth eyes, he straightened himself up, but the upper half of his body rejected his decision to relinquish the
water's heat: violent shudders tolled him. He instinctively grasped his arms around himself and cowered at the coldness. "I said, what's good?" he pushed, trying to sound completely
fine.
Gerard avoided the question. "Don't be a pussy!" he exclaimed; with his bare hand he pushed Frank back into the tub.
Gerard was merciless: "I looked at your dick, don't get all freaked out. Aren't you usually all over that?"
Frank blushed furiously and ignored Gerard as he tried to sit up despite the resisting hand of his friend. Frank found his muscles aching at the attempt. It was a sickly ache that was
brought by his flu. He felt like his muscles were rotting whenever it came on.
"I don't feel like giving you the satisfaction," Frank finally responded. Though it was more of the fact that he was shamed to be in this circumstance, as he'd mentioned before, and
Gerard knew so, too. And so he grinned sadistically down at Frank's weak, putridly ill body as he reached behind him for the bar of soap on the sink.
Frank was silent as Gerard wet the sponge glove and lathered it with soap. He was too busy trying to occupy his mind with anything but his current torturous dilemma, but it was a
vain try. Rather, he scolded himself for not trying harder to resist Gerard; what if his lame attempts at resistance seemed fake, and Gerard was sitting here getting the damn sponge
glove a rub down and arrogantly smiling for his triumph in knowing that Frank actually wanted this?
And the sad part was that Frank was dubious on whose side he was on. He did feel rather weak, tired, and plain dead; all this had added up to the cause of his poor protest. But in
his mind crept the rejected, lonely idea that he wanted this attention from Gerard. While everyone else had been trying to avoid him for days now as to not catch his "disease,"
including Gerard, maybe the embers of his desire for Gerard had been prodded constantly – but subtly – during his passage through this illness; and now he just refused to
acknowledge the obvious.
Or I really don't want this and am just too worn down to care.
Frank decidedly hung onto that notion so he wouldn't have to believe he wanted bathed by Gerard while he was sick – the idea of that was just gruesome…he was ill, for goodness
sake – and he was still busy grasping the frayed ends of his little notion when the sponge glove came down on his dick.
Regardless of his rotting muscles, Frank was quick to react as he reared his knees up to his chest and Gerard received another splash in the face.
"Damn you," Frank whispered hoarsely, feeling another coughing fit slithering its dry fingers up his throat.
Gerard had wasted no time in recovering from Frank's water attack; after quickly wiping the water off his face, he'd nearly jumped into the tub as he pinned Frank's chest down with
his sponge glove hand. Frank started coughing; once again, Gerard waited for the fit to pass.
"Frankie, you're going to make yourself worse if you fight me."
Frank scowled. "Wash me, don't sexually assault me, you ass." His angered expression was as mustered up as Frank could manage, but Gerard found himself troubled in taking it
seriously.
"I'm just washing you," Gerard said in defense. He looked innocently at Frank, who refused to stare back.
Gerard started the bathing process again, this time sliding the sponge glove across Frank's chest, then up and down his torso.
Frank lay still; the intention to keep looking away angrily had gradually began to unnoticeably subside as Frank relaxed to the coarse, slippery glove massaging his skin, tending to an
itch that hadn't been truly present.
The glove slid past his naval and continued traveling downward. Frank lifted a hand to swat Gerard away, but Gerard aggressively persisted onward, indolently pushing away Frank's
hand and forcibly gripping his penis with the sponge glove.
Frank gasped.
Both his hands sprung from the water and reached to desperately pull Gerard away, but they paused and were left suspended above the sponge glove and his dick.
Gerard caught onto Frank's hesitation and took advantage of it.
The sponge glove gently slid up the length of Frank's cock then rolled it gently between the fingers and thumb.
Frank's hands hit the water and grilled against the tub floor by his sides. Eyes shut tightly, he groaned in protest as he felt a familiar rush of blood warm his already feverish body. The
heat of arousal had become vaguely present several unmentionable moments before in the past fifteen minutes, but it had been slight enough to ignore.
Frank couldn't ignore it this time as the sponge glove's soapy, rough surface encouraged the newly flowing heat in his body.
Something cold began sliding down Frank's cock, and he opened his eyes to see Gerard pouring shampoo from the bottle onto it. He glanced at Frank's opened eyes and flashed a
toothy, devilish grin.
"Feel good, princess?"
Before Frank could manage a reply, the sponge glove began spreading the shampoo around his cock that now held its heated self proudly above the surface of the water. Gerard made
sure to lather Frank's cock with soap completely before tightening his grip on him so he could deliver firm, slow strokes to Frank.
"I hate you," Frank grumbled. His fists were clenched and pressed sternly to his sides against the tub floor still. The muscles in his body no longer felt like they were rotting as he
tensed against Gerard's sponge glove strokes.
"Lighten up," Gerard said, taking notice of this. He leaned farther over the tub edge and left Frank's cock a moment to massage his other muscles again; he started at the base of
Frank's neck and continued in a trail to the crook of Frank's neck and shoulder, rubbing back and forth to attend both sides. Frank shivered at the touch, for the water the glove had
absorbed was growing cold.
A bare hand traced a pattern on Frank's stomach, lingering on the lower, submerged half. The fingers drew from side to side.
Thanks to Gerard's little massage, Frank had finally allowed his muscles to relax a bit; he lay back lithely in the water now, his back gently propped against the tub wall. And he wished
his penis wouldn't clog his mind with begs for attention, but it did, and Frank uttered a low, needy moan as Gerard's fingers teased his lower abdomen.
Gerard smiled proudly; "Okay baby," he mocked.
The sponge glove found its way back to Frank's cock, greedily taking hold of it and tightening its grasp once again. The strokes were still slow, and within moments Frank's hips were
thrusting jerkily into Gerard's glove.
"Gerard," Frank gasped pitifully.
"Yeah?" Gerard answered innocently, dragging the word out. He ceased the gloves slow strokes when it reached the top of Frank's cock. With the thumb of the glove, he rubbed
across the tip, slowly and dramatically. Frank inhaled sharply.
"I hate you, Gee," Frank managed to cry out softly as the thumb continued to slide its slippery surface roughly against the head of his dick.
"Yeah, that explains everything."
With his other hand, Gerard gently touched Frank's inner thigh and dragged his fingers to Frank's balls; he caressed them softly as he picked up his stroking of Frank, this time going
faster as a reward for Frank's obedience.
"Fuck," groaned Frank as soon as the faster strokes had begun and his balls started being massaged.
"Not today," Gerard teased.
Frank shot him and irate expression, but the expression was short-lived as Gerard picked began stroking him even faster, pulling a slight whimper from Frank.
Gerard's other hand had moved to the tub ledge again; Gerard used it to support himself as he leaned in farther to help wildly get Frank off. Frank's hips thrust into the sponge glove
every several seconds now; breaths came faster and in occasional wheezes from his congested chest. His eyes were shut tightly and the muscles in his legs and bottom were tense.
"You aren't taking long," Gerard rasped. The sound of Gerard's now husky voice sent a heated rush of sparks down Frank's lower abdomen; Gerard was aroused, too, and by the sight
of Frank. It wasn't a first, but the knowledge of Gerard's arousal was always thrilling.
But Gerard's statement was true – Frank could feel his face flushing; a flux of wavering heat began growing in his lower abdomen, fueled by each stroke brought by Gerard and his
sponge glove.
Gerard's hand was rubbing Frank's cock wildly now, but he suddenly stopped.
An impatient moan emanated from Frank, but he watched with peaked interest as Gerard slipped off the sponge glove and laid it on the tub's ledge. He shot a warning glance at Frank
then leaned into the tub, holding Frank's cock in one hand and submerging the other hand within the water to place on the tub floor to hold him up. Gerard delivered slow, torturous
caresses with the other hand as he leant farther in; his lips made contact with the tip of Frank's cock.
Frank watched with wide eyes as Gerard gently kissed the tip before delivering a slow, firm, and full lick.
"Gerard, shit, Gerard," Frank moaned loudly now. His hands pushed against the sides of the tub, and though he tried not to, his hips thrust upward, and the end oh his cock slipped
into Gerard's mouth.
Gerard responded casually, sucking him gently and moving his tongue swiftly against Frank's cock. His hand rubbed the lower half faster.
The once wavering pool of heat in Frank's lower abdomen was spreading rapidly; Frank curled his toes, gasping, "Gerard, now, I'm—" He cut his own sentence off with a groan as
Gerard's hand gave a firm squeeze to Frank's cock and his tongue granted him one final, aggressive lick. Gerard pulled away as soon as Frank came, his ear drums threatening to burst
as he clenched his teeth and bucked his hips a final time into Gerard's hand; "Gerard, oh God," he managed to say through his teeth. Heat more intense than any fever seared under
his skin throughout his lower body.
"Nice," Gerard muttered tiredly, watching Frank's expressions and admiring what he thought of as "Frank's cuteness." His hand lingered on Frank's cock, massaging it gently as Frank
grasped the air for steady breaths.
"Oh fucking God," Frank muttered finally, using a shaky arm to sit himself up.
Gerard smiled cheerfully: "Now you know what to do when I catch your damned disease."

Notes

Gerard's really fuckin' weird in this one, sorry