The day starts off for Frank rather pleasantly: with a storm. Frank, ever since he was a kid, has always loved rain and storms. Especially the kind where the thunder is so loud, the windows shake in their panes. The sense of chaos so close to him, yet he was safe always made Frank feel at least a bit better.

The rain beats at the windows of the tour bus as Frank makes his way from the bunks, rubbing his hair and yawning. He always woke up earlier than the rest of the guys, and the clock shows four in the morning. Along with thunderstorms, Frank has always liked the silence that surrounds him when nobody else is awake. There is a word for it, but Frank's sluggish mind can't bear to think of SAT vocabulary words at this time of day.

Except he's not alone. The red haired man is curled up on one of the couches in the living area, a thick blanket wrapped around his body. His eyes are shut and his lips are open just-so, steady breaths issuing from his mouth. So peaceful, Frank thinks and sits down opposite Gerard, pulling out his phone and logging in to a website he had recently heard about— Tumblr. He likes to anonymously check into the My Chemical Romance fandom's corner and see what all of the dirty monkeys he's happy to call fans post about the band.

Of course, the very first thing on his dashboard is a post with animated gifs (Frank pronounces it like the peanut butter brand, which utterly pisses off Ray) of Gerard singing the night before. The caption is lyrics from Superstar: "Long ago, and, oh, so far away / I fell in love with you before the second show / Your guitar, it sounds so sweet and clear..." The post was tagged as Frerard, not surprisingly.

He taps the name of the blog that made the post and instantly goes to the 'ask' section, making sure to hit the 'anon' button before typing out his question.

Why does everyone ship Gerard and Frank together? I mean, yeah, they're cute and all, but what's the reason? And they're both married. Isn't that really weird to ship two married men?

He hits 'submit' as he hears a yawn across the aisle and he quickly puts his phone back into the waistband of his pajama pants as Gerard's eyes flicker open. "'Morning, Frank," Gerard slurs, his speech interrupted by another silent, mighty roar. "You're up early."

"Early bird gets the worm," Frank says and Gerard groans, burying his face in his blanket.

"Well, this early bird wants some goddamn coffee," he says, his words muffled by the blanket.

"I get you," Frank says and feels the bus shudder underneath him as the thunder shakes the ground.

"Fuckn' rain and shit," Gerard mutters, forming himself into an even smaller ball. "Leave me the fuck alone."

Unsure of whether Gerard is talking to Frank or to the rain or maybe a combination of the two, Frank stands up and stretches his arms above his head, feeling his back pop.

"No, no," Gerard protests, peeking just his eyes out of his blanket cocoon. "Stay here. It's too quiet without you. It's creepy."

Frank nods wordlessly and sits back down, positioning himself to look out the window at the gray blanket of unrelenting rain. "Where're we tonight?" Frank asks.

"Atlanta," Gerard answers after a moment. "Not performing tonight, but tomorrow. Aaron's Ampitheater. And the night after that. And the night after that."

"Three sold out shows," Frank murmurs. "All in a row. Jesus."

"Crazy," Gerard agrees. "And to think how we started out."

Shitty, Frank thinks. Horrible. Garage-band-ish. He just nods and continues to look out the window.

"You sleep with it on," Gerard says and Frank looks over at him, confused.

"What?"

"The necklace," Gerard says and Frank's fingers flutter around the cold metal lock. He had slept with it on, feeling the lock through his shirt as he dreamed about an empty abyss of nothing. It is a lucky day when Frank dreams about anything actually happening.

"You slept with yours," Frank notes and Gerard does the same action with the key, hanging out over a white t-shirt that reads GO WATCH THE WATCHMEN.

"Yes I did," he says and flashes Frank a small grin, as big as he can muster at four in the morning. "Thank God we have tonight off."

"Yes," Frank sighs. "I can't wait for the hotel bed and nice showers and God I can't wait."
"Me too, kiddo," Gerard nods.

After a moment of heavy silence, Frank musters up the courage to ask: "Why did you give me the lock instead of the key?"

"Says something about us as lovers," Gerard smirks.

"Fuck off," Frank scoffs when he realizes what Gerard means. The man is full of sexual innuendos.

"I never really thought about it," Gerard says quietly, his lips barely moving. Obviously thinking out loud, which was something the singer did often. "Just say it, thought about you, wrote my initials on it, and bam. Done."

"Well, I like it," Frank says and moves himself to the other side of the aisle, next to Gerard. "What do you consider cheating?" He asks suddenly.

"What?" Gerard asks. "Why do you ask?"

"'Cause I wanna kiss you right now for being so mindlessly thoughtful, but I can't if you think kissing is cheating," Frank explains.

"My rule is always 'if anything goes in anything, it's cheating'. Tongues, fingers, things like that," Gerard answers, his pale cheeks filling with warm color.

Frank moves closer to Gerard, draping his legs across the older's waist, delicately taking Gerard's face in his hands. "So I can do this?" He asks, lightly pressing his lips to Gerard's jaw.

The man shivers at the contact, and nods. "That's fine," he says quietly.

"What about..." Frank starts, moving up Gerard's face to his cheek, giving him another small kiss. "This?"

"That's fine, too," Gerard answers, willing Frank to move his mouth down just a little bit.

"This?" Frank asks and presses his lips against the corner of Gerard's mouth. Close, but not enough.

"This," Gerard says forcefully and turns his head so that Frank's lips collide with his own. He catches Frank's bottom lip with the very edges of his teeth, not wanting to hurt him but wanting to let him know— or rather, remember— what he's capable of.

Frank sighs into Gerard's mouth and grasps his red hair in his fist, pulling slightly as he pushes himself closer, making the pressure on their lips greater. Finally, Gerard opens his mouth and Frank runs his tongue across Gerard's bottom lip, as if testing the waters for a complaint. All he gets is a strangled moan and Gerard's mouth opening to admit Frank's tongue.

Cheating, Frank categorizes his action as he slowly pushes his tongue in, almost immediatly familiarizing himself with the small space of which he had forgotten. He knows that soon they'll have to disconnect and breath, but for now, Frank keeps his mouth firmly on Gerard's, wishing that he could have all of Gerard; not just his mouth.

Then, Frank's phone buzzes. Panting, Frank pulls away, keeping one hand firmly in Gerard's hair as he pulls out his phone, checking the notification. He got a response on his question on Tumblr.

"I'll be right back," Frank says distantly and disentangles himself from Gerard, quickly making his way to the small bathroom and locking the door behind him.

[1/3] Oh, anon. How innocent you are. Frank and Gerard have a natural chemistry together (you can say it's a romantic chemistry. Get it? Bad puns are the bee's knees) and it makes their relationship— no matter whether sexual or otherwise— undeniable. They've always been there for each other and everyone wishes they could find a friend like that.

[2/3] Also, the thing about shipping is that it almost always takes place in an alternate universe where neither participants' significant others— in this case, Lindsey and Jamia— exist as their partners. In most fan fictions, they either A: are never mentioned or dealt with, B: antagonized, or C: made to be close, personal friends. So, shipping Gerard and Frank is kind of not that big of an issue. Even though it's an unspoken rule to respect their marriages, it's still fun to imagine what would happen if Gerard and Frank were really together.

[3/3] And another thing: there's fucking proof of Frerard all over the damn place. One of my favorite examples is a show they played in 2005— I forget which one, but Frank was wearing his 'I am a monster' shirt— and they were hanging on each other for almost the whole hour and a half. Now, I'm not gonna lie, I do hang on my friends and everything, but you don't do it for almost two hours without, you know... A reason. Not to mention how they've shared clothes throughout the years, and Destroya. I mean... Really? Seems a bit obvious, boys. But as I said before: it's fun to pretend.

---

Gerard pulls the hood of his jacket over his head, checking his hair in the mirror of the hotel bathroom, trying to conceal the scarlet locks. "All of this for a fucking coffee," Gerard mutters aloud and shoves the jacket off of his arms, leaving the bathroom and flopping down onto his bed. Mikey is asleep in the second bed, hugging his pillow tightly against his chest. It's not even that late— only 10:00PM.

He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, seeing the familiar fireworks of colors as he applies pressure, before groaning and pulling off his shoes and jeans, leaving him in his WATCHMEN shirt and boxers. He silently works his way up the bed and into the covers, feeling the smooth, cool sheets settle around his bare legs.

His mind, in the darkness and near-silence, drifts to Frank, in the room across the hall. He had forgotten how blissful kissing Frank was, even though it had happened the night before. But then, it was lacking substance, just a way to express anger.

According to his definition of the term, Gerard had cheated. He allowed Frank's tongue into his mouth, allowed it to run over his own and lick his bottom lip. He had allowed Frank to do whatever he pleased. Gerard still feels Frank's fingers on his jaw, fluttering like small butterflies against his skin. The feeling had set off a swarm of similar butterflies in Gerard's stomach that has yet to leave.

Frank seems to have that effect on him. Leaving a nervous yet pleasant feeling in the very bottom of his stomach, making him feel loved and untrustworthy at the same time. The uncertainty reminds him of how he felt when times were simpler, when their only worry was someone walking on in them while having sex. Now, the consequences are much larger: wives and custody lost, loyal fanbase basically exploding, trusts broken, rumors spread.

Gerard rolls over in bed, turning just in time to watch a fork of lightening split the sky, quickly followed by a shuddering of the earth. Mikey lets out a small sound and his eyes bolt open. "Gee?" He asks immediately, looking in the darkness for his brother. He sounds horrified, Gerard thinks. Like he's eight again.

"I'm here, buddy," Gerard says quietly. Mikey quickly makes his way over to his brother's bed, slipping in next to him like he used to when storms would hit Jersey and the two still slept in the same room. This would continue on until after they were in different rooms, different floors, as different fears evolved and anxiety and panic grew at the shaking and flashes and cracks of storms.

"The storm's not gonna get you, Mikey-Mouse," Gerard whispers soothingly, calling his brother the nickname he gave him when Gerard was four. "It's okay. I'm here. You'll be fine."

"Thank you, Gee," Mikey whispers, burying his face in his brother's shoulder as another crack of thunder sounds.

"Storm's are pretty bad down here in the south, huh?" Gerard whispers, trying to keep Mikey calm.

"They're scary," Mikey comments.

"I'll protect you," Gerard says. "Don't even worry."

Notes

It's pouring rain and I have a glass of raspberry tea next to me, with Badlnads playing as I write. Today is a good day.

xoKristin