Gerard’s about thirty seconds away from really laying into Frank, just completely losing his temper and resorting to some drastic measures that will, no doubt, end badly for everyone involved. He vehemently does not believe in violence but Frank is just begging for an exception as far as Gerard is concerned.

He scowls at the young man beside him, bouncing wildly in his seat, lips spread wide to show off too many white teeth, eyes scrunched closed in his favorite ‘I’m too excited to sit still right now’ expression. Growling lowly, Gerard tries to close his eyes, regulate his breathing and heart rate and just prays he can fall asleep or at least zone out for a while because his head is going to fucking explode all over the seats and the airplane and all of it’s passengers if the aspirin he took doesn’t kick in soon.

“Gerard?” Frank pokes Gerard in the shoulder, voice pitched high as his finger digs in. “Gerard? Gerard? Gerard!” Frank keeps his repetition up when Gerard refuses to acknowledge him, breathing harshly through his nose, teeth clenched.

“Geeeeeee!!!” The volume and exaggeration of the whine is too much for Gerard as he snaps open his eyes, fuming and clenching the armrest of his seat to prevent himself from launching out of it.

“Frank!” He rubs his hand over his face before taking a deep breath to keep his voice from sounding too loudly in the small space; he wants to ensure that it’s clear that he can’t deal with Frank right now, but without alerting the entire aircraft. “I have a really bad fucking headache Frank, okay? I just want to close my eyes and pretend I don’t have to sit in this flying coffin for the next sixteen hours and I’d really really like both of us to survive the trip, so I’m gonna need you to shut the fuck up, okay?”

Frank’s eyes widen for a moment at Gerard’s outburst, mouth hanging open for a breath and then he’s grinning again too wide for it be remotely possible that he understood anything Gerard just said.

“Ok.” Gerard doesn’t believe him for a second; scowling suspiciously he turns back from the youngest member of his band, closing his eyes once again.

For the next few minutes there’s the sort of buzzing silence that’s expected on airplanes, most of the passengers, including the other three members of their band, asleep or well on their way. Gerard can still feel the incessant pounding behind his eyes, the way the pain curls around to his temples, makes him feel nauseous and like his skin is two sizes to small but Frank is still sitting almost completely silent beside him, still and keeping his hands to himself; Gerard can’t help the slow exhale as he relaxes into the back of his seat.

The pain is still a constant drumming, but he’s sure if he can just fall asleep it’ll pass so he’s not fighting against unconsciousness as it slips it’s veil over him. He can feel himself drifting, slowly but surely, the easy blackness of sleep overtaking his senses, dulling everything but the steady thump of his pulse.

He’s almost completely lost to the world, knowing that his heart should be slowing, quieting, at least in his own ears, but it’s getting louder, snapping sharply, rhythmically and far too loud. The dim hum that launches itself into his ears is close and familiar. Frowning, he can feel the sweet promise of sleep slipping through his grasp like sand; he grapples with it momentarily, panic welling up in his chest, before he abandons the cause, opening his eyes to the gloom of the airplane.

The question of the humming and mistaken heartbeat is answered as he peers out of the corner of his eye; Frank is sitting, mostly stationary still, lips pursed as he hums lowly, fingers tapping out the matching rhythm on the plastic armrest and Gerard can feel his blood pressure rising again, boiling and ready to erupt.

Frank, as though he can feel Gerard’s fiery gaze, shrinks into his seat as he turns to look at his lead singer, mouth parting into a hesitant smile.

“Oops…” His fingers still themselves as though he’s only just noticed their treachery. “Sorry Gee.” He wraps his hands around the armrest as though physically restraining himself, looking sheepish and adorable and sincere and Gerard can’t help deflating in the guitarists wake.

“It’s fine Frank.” He mumbles, feeling the betraying sting behind his eyes as the pain erupts once again, flaring and expanding and shooting, relentless and Gerard really just wants to cry, even in the airplane filled with strangers.

Frank’s pulling on the silver lip ring, twisting it with his tongue and biting it between his teeth and it’s distracting and consuming; as if feeling Gerard’s eyes concentrated on his mouth Frank releases the ring, running his tongue slowly over his lips instead, eyes twinkling as he watches Gerard’s own tongue mirror his actions, the way his cheeks flush beneath his pale skin. Smirking, Frank waits until Gerard’s eyes lift, dazed, to meet his own.

“Hi Gee.” He doesn’t bother raising his voice above a whisper; they’re close enough that he’s practically purring in Gerard’s ear. The shiver that runs through the older man sends a thrill through Frank, his lips spreading wider at the involuntary admission.

“No Frank.” Gerard’s voice sounds wrecked already, even to his own ears and he knows that Frank won’t buy the denial; the way his eyes widen, lips pursing, make him look too young, innocent in a way that seems impossible with his tattoos and multi-colored hair and piercings.

“No Frank.” Gerard shakes his head, frowning to express his sincerity. “I have a headache, I need to sleep.” He refrains from using his pointer finger to further convey his point. Frank’s answer does nothing to solidify Gerard’s resolve.

“I’ll help you relax baby.” The way he flutters his eyelashes against those big hazel eyes, mouth parted into the tiniest pout should look stupid on a grown man but mostly Gerard just thinks it looks hot. He closes his eyes to block out Frank’s face but the whispered promise keeps ringing in his ears, eliciting a combination of images from his imagination and memories, coming together in a way that has a groan slipping past Gerard’s lips and Frank knows he’s won.

Unbuckling his seat belt, Frank makes a show of pressing his whole body against Gerard’s as he crawls across the seats to the aisle. Gerard tries to shake his head no, parts his lips to admonish the younger man but all that comes out is a trembling sigh as the guitarists fingers brush against the top of his thigh. Gripping the armrests he watches as Frank saunters his way up the aisle to the bathroom, grinning and nodding at the stewardess as he closes the door, leaving the poor girl to blush and fumble with her cart as she proceeds in the other direction and Gerard’s barely finished his internal count to ten before he’s practically running down to the already occupied bathroom, pulling open the door and throwing himself inside.

He’s breathing hard, the pain in his head a dull ache that’s almost overshadowed by the throb that’s developed in the confines of his too tight jeans. Frank’s backed himself up against the counter to make room for Gerard, biting at his lip ring again, his own chest rising and falling rapidly in anticipation and that alone is almost too much for Gerard; the way Frank looks in the small room.

There’s a breath where they’re just staring at each other, separated by mere inches but still two distinct people occupying the same space. Gerard can’t help thinking the moment is heavy and important or something but then Frank’s launched himself across the small space, latching onto Gerard; fingers curling their way over the nape of his neck, into dark filthy hair, twisting and weaving and pulling just this side of too-much and the moan that slips past Gerard’s lips is lost within the confines of Frank’s mouth as he swallows it up, lips pressed hard and messy and perfect.

Gerard’s grappling at Frank’s belt, fingers clumsy in his eagerness, knowing they only have a few minutes before someone hears or notices and he knows from experience that it’s always better to exist the bathroom of your own accord.

Finally succeeding in loosing Frank’s belt, the zipper and button seem amateur and redundant; Frank’s own hands have done away with Gerard’s pants and Gerard’s left wondering once again if that finger dexterity is purely due to Frank’s guitar playing prowess.

“Come on.” Frank’s barely turned before Gerard’s pressing hard against his lower back, folding the younger man over the sink, head turned to avoid the hard press of the mirror, smile still intact as he pants in excitement. Gerard can feel the loss of composure as he watches Frank wiggle against the hard counter, hips pressed uncomfortably as he waits for Gerard.

“Yeah…” He quickly sticks two fingers into his mouth, sucking and coating them in saliva, his eyes never leaving Frank’s, and then he’s pressing them in and Frank’s pushing back against his hand, murmured praise and nonsense slipping as Gerard scissors his fingers before pulling them out. Spitting twice into his palm, he grips his cock swiftly, coating it in his own drool; he wishes he had enough time to push Frank to his knees before him, watch him wrap those full lips around Gerard’s cock and let him fuck his mouth before his ass. There’s no time for the fantasy that plays out in Gerard’s mind as he lines up and then everything whites out for a moment.

Frank is so deliciously tight, mewling and keening below Gerard as he presses those inscribed hips back, that Gerard’s groaning louder than is advisable in the small confines they’ve found themselves in. The noise is reverberating too harsh around them; Gerard’s sure someone’s going to be knocking on the door with the way the two of them are making such noise but it’s just been too fucking long.

“Oh God, Gee…oh fuck.” Frank’s panting out his chant, adding in the occasional praise and expletive, hands splayed across the mirror to stop his head crashing into it as Gerard slams into him, fast and hard.

There’s a hand reaching over Frank’s back, tickling down his hip before grasping his cock and the squeak turned moan ends with Frank rolling his hips against Gerard and the painful tightening of Gerard’s free hand onto Frank’s hipbone. Frank’s sure he’s going to have a full handprint of bruises tomorrow; the thought sends a torrent of delicious shivers up his spine.

“Close” Gerard pants into the small room, pushing himself into Frank harder when the younger man groans in agreement. His vision starts funneling, his belly tightening and Gerard knows he possesses maybe three more good thrusts before he’s done and he wants, needs, Frank there with him so he’s speeding up his hand, flicking his wrist on the upstroke and Frank’s gasping and clenching, propelling Gerard over the top with him.

Gerard barely has time to catch his breath before Frank’s pushing them away from the sink, dropping carelessly to his knees to pull up Gerard’s pants and boxers, straightening out his rucked up t-shirt and running his fingers through the dark tousled locks. Brushing a kiss across the older man’s lips Frank pushes him dazedly out the door with a smirk and Gerard’s left in the small hallway not entirely sure how he got there or what he’s supposed to do now.

“Can I help you sir?” The stewardess’ pleasant voice interrupts Gerard’s momentary bewilderment, bringing him back to the present with a start and an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I just, no, I’m fine. Thank you.” He tries not to run back to his seat, cheeks burning, thankful that most of the plane’s occupants are asleep and that he can suffer his embarrassment alone.

Gerard’s just settling back into his seat when Frank exits the bathroom, cheeks still flushed and smile too wide to be anything but suspicious, sauntering down the aisle like it’s a fucking runway, stopping at their seats to wink at Gerard conspiratorially, before bracketing his hands on either side of the older man’s armrests and leaning right into his space like they hadn’t just been holed up in the bathroom together not ten minutes ago.

“How’s your head?” Gerard absolutely does not tremble against the lips that press against his temple, whispered words hot against his skin. Frowning, Gerard can’t help noticing that his head has, in fact, stopped hurting. Frank’s answering smirk says he already knew.

Notes

This was something I wrote for the hurt/comfort bingo on dreamwidth; I signed up with the intent of using the bingo card as ready-made brainstorming/prompts when I get stuck.
Please let me know what you think - I love to hear from my readers and I promise to always try to write back!!

Cheers
Kat