"So, are you gonna spill?" Mikey asked the next day as Gerard sat down at the breakfast table.

"A gentleman does not kiss and tell, Michael," Gerard said in a posh accent and Mikey rolled his eyes. "What I will say, however," Gerard added in his regular voice. "Is that Frank is one good looking man."

"That just means that you're a human with functioning eyeballs," Mikey countered, taking a sip from his coffee. "I'm not even gay and I thought Frank looked good. Did you guys do it?"

"I'm not telling you," Gerard said.

"Please?" Mikey pleaded, using his powers as a little brother to be annoying enough to make Gerard tell him whether or not the two of them had slept together.

"No!" Gerard insisted. "It's not happening!"

At that moment, the boys' mother walked into the kitchen, halting all conversation with her appearance. It wasn't that Donna Way was against homosexuality, it was just that she didn't know her oldest son was gay, nor did she know that he may or may not have had slept with another man the night before. "'Morning, boys," she said, landing a kiss on each of the brothers' cheeks. "Gee, honey, you're up early. Are you feeling okay?"

Seeing as it was a rarity for Gerard to be awake at 9:30 in the morning, much less out of the basement, he could see why his mother was so shocked. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said. "Just woke up early."

"Okay," Donna said, only a bit unconvinced. Being a mother, she could always tell when her one of her children wasn't telling the truth and, boy, was her Lie-O-Meter going off. "If you need anything, you can ask me," Donna reminded them, speaking more to Gerard than his brother.

With that, Donna left the room, and Gerard let out a sigh of relief. At least Mikey's interrogation had been delayed for a few minutes. "C'mon, why can't you tell me?" Mikey cried once Donna was a safe distance away. Right back on schedule.

Gerard started to speak but Mikey interrupted him. "You didn't, did you?" He asked, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. Then, seeing Gerard unresponsive, his eyes widened once more and he said "You did." Mikey did this several times, each time getting more and more comical about the affair.

"There's no way," Mikey said, shaking his head.

"But what if you came home while I was asleep?" Mikey argued with himself, pushing the wire-frames up further on his nose.

"No, you didn't," he said, setting his elbows on the table. His head fell forward into his hands and he groaned loudly, letting his head fall out of his hands and hit the tabletop, making his mug of coffee shift a bit. "Just tell me! I'm gonna go insane!"

"Follow me, padawan," Gerard said, rising from his seat, cradling his own coffee mug in his hands, letting the warmth seep into his palms. Mikey rolled his eyes at his brother's ridiculous nickname for him, but followed him anyway.

Gerard took Mikey down to his bedroom and shouldered the door open, flicking on the overhead light. The room was typical of any boy's room— messy and unorganized. Gerard argued that it was a controlled chaos, and that he knew where everything was, whether it be in his shelves or on the carpet. The only thing that was truly clean was the desk in the back corner, and even that was stretching the truth a bit; papers were strewn about the desktop, with markers and pencils scattered across the papers.

Gerard sank down onto his bed, placing his mug on the bedside table. "Come here," he said, patting the portion of unmade bed beside him. Mikey hesitantly sat down and Gerard said "Frank and I did not hook up last night."
"I knew it," the younger insisted.

"However, what I did do last night happened right where you're sitting," Gerard said, smirking as he tried to hold back laughter.

2.3 seconds. That's the amount of time it took Mikey to understand what Gerard meant, jump up from his place, and fly across the room. "That's disgusting!" Mikey wailed the whole time. Gerard was almost doubled over laughing, tears threatening to spill over.

"No, that's hilarious!" Gerard cried in-between bouts of laughter. Mikey shot him a look from across the room, and Gerard was suddenly glad that the phrase "If looks could kill" wasn't true. If it was, Gerard would be stone-cold dead.

"God, you're the worst," Mikey said with disdain. He refused to go sit next to Gerard again, instead leaning against the wall. "So, what did you guys do last night?"

"Well, we were gonna do it," Gerard said, brushing his hair out of his face. "But then we started talking and... Frank's a really cool dude."

"In baseball terms, how far did you get?" Mikey asked, immediately regretting the decision.

Gerard looked to the ceiling, thinking for a second. "Second base is the one where you, like, makeout half-naked, right?" He asked after a second and Mikey groaned loudly.

"Yep," the younger Way said, wincing at the image that filled his head. He hadn't even been with a guy before, but he's been with plenty of girls and, in his mind, he just replaced the girl with a good-looking guy. It was a strange visual that Mikey never wanted to see in his mind's eye ever again. "That's second base, alright," he added, trying not to think about... That.

"Yeah, that's what happened," Gerard said, nodding and picking lint off of his Star Wars-printed comforter. "He's a good kisser," he added quietly, more like he was thinking out loud rather than talking to Mikey. "Soft lips... God, and his moans. It was heavenly."

"Don't need to know this," Mikey said, crossing his arms over his chest. "If you wanna talk about Frank in that way, I'm leaving."

"His hands..." Gerard continued, oblivious to the world. "They were really soft, except for the callouses on his fingers. That felt amazing. They were really... Solid, too."

"Solid?" Mikey repeated. "Did you just say that Frank's hands were solid?"

"... And his eyes. Fuck, his eyes are beautiful," Gerard muttered breathlessly, ignoring Mikey's question. "Like, his eyes are more beautiful than my entire face."

"Ugh, I'm leaving," Mikey said. "Call me back down when you're finished making yourself hard."

---

---

Gerard couldn't sleep. It's not for lack of trying, but rather lack of motivation. What's the point? He was just going to have to wake up again in a few hours to go pitch Breakfast Monkey. On the other hand, he knew that he needed his rest for the pitch but, no matter how many times he repositioned or flipped his pillow to the cold side, he couldn't fall asleep.

One problem may be the tightness of his pajama pants. He hadn't been hard all day, as Mikey thought he had; instead, his 'night wood' came about when he had a brief thought about Frank.

Frank was becoming an issue. Because of this small, barely-over-five-foot man, Gerard couldn't fall asleep and, among other things, made him sexually frustrated. The more that he thought about how Frank's hands had traveled over his body and how Frank had given him a few light red marks on his collarbones, the more frustrated it made him.

What Gerard didn't realize, however, was that, across the state, in a dorm room at Rutgers University, a man lay in his own bed, unable to fall asleep for mostly the same reasons. There was one other reason that Frank couldn't fall asleep, though.

"Gerard!" Frank cried as he coated his hand in his own cum, his breathing ragged and drawn out. He laid back down onto his pillow, glad that his roommate was out for the night. He came down from the high after a few minutes of trying to level his breathing and opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling.

He hadn't meant to do that. It was a bit innocent, Frank's level of guilt at cumming at the image of Gerard hovering over him, but at the the same time, it was glorious. It hadn't taken much either; a few choice words from the mouth of Frank's figment of imagination, and remembering the feeling of Gerard's hips on his own was all it took for Frank to reach his orgasm quicker and harder than ever before. The only word that came to mind to describe it was phenomenal.

Then again, Frank was actually a very innocent person. His whole 'sex-machine' act he played up at shows was exactly what it seemed like— an act. Frank had only had sex one other time, but he was 17 and it was the night of homecoming, so he didn't really count it. How many other teenagers lose their virginity on the night of the homecoming dance? Answer: hundreds.

And it was a girl. Frank had only ever had sex with a girl, but that was enough times to know that girls were not for him.
Anyway— boys are better kissers. He knew this for a fact. Just because he hadn't bedded many guys didn't mean that he hadn't ever made out with any.

Gerard started to creep into Frank's thoughts, but Frank quickly pushed him out, not wanting to repeat the experience again. He already had to wash his sheets from the mixture of weed smell and sweat— now, he had to wash off the jizz and various bodily fluids.

Groaning in protest, Frank pulled himself off of his bed and stripped it of the gray-blue sheets, balling them up and placing them in his desk chair. He quickly made his bed again with dark blue sheets and, as an afterthought, scribbled a message on a Post-It and slapped it onto the unclean sheets.

Don't touch. Dirty; need to wash.

Dirty, indeed.

Notes

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xoøli
(P.S- my leg has been doing weird spasm thing all night and I've barely slept and it's becoming an issue...)
(P.P.S- I guarantee some good ole' Frerard in the next or next-next chapter...)