It's Not a Fashion Statement, It's a Deathwish

Frank got used to his peers' strange, laid-back lifestyles by the fourth day of his internship. There was a guy named Patrick, who was a short (yet somehow still taller than poor Frank) ginger who wore feodras quite often and was flirtasious. He was the guy who helped with Gee's (Gerard's nickname) storyboards. There were other people, like two girls named Hayley and Tay, but they were working on a different project.
He showed up the next day without any pants because it was awfully hot. It was June and they were New Yorkers, so they were used to the cold. Gerard was absolutely naked, running around the studio with his dick flopping everywhere. It was hard to not stare as it pendalously dangled as he danced to Last of the American Girls by Green Day. Gerard looked at Frank and said, "Alright, will you the honors of shading in this comic strip?"
"Um, sure," Frank replied, trying to not stare at his balls. It wasn't like they were disgusting. They were nice balls. What the fuck, mate. Stop staring at his dick and focus, dammit. "There-s a tortillion in the drawer and some art pencils," Gerard continued. "Let me just.." He reached over Frank to open the drawer, slapping him in the face with his penis.
Frank stared at him, terrified.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to Teabag your face," Gerard said. He tossed a rag at Frank.
Frank scrubbed his face with it. He soon realized that it was Gerard's underwear and tossed them at the wall. "Oh god, why?" he asked.
"Ok, I'm gonna put some clothes on because you're absolutely terrified," Gee stated.
"You dick just touched my face," Frank replied. "I'm not oh-fucking-kay. I mean, I'm not homophobic, but no. Just no."
"I apologize. Why don't you go get some coffee and relax in the break room?"
Frank nodded and bolted.

Notes

Teehee...teabag...