When Frank sets foot inside, it seems that all of his friends are so incurably eager to get drunk, or stoned, or both. Pete doesn't actually drink; he only smokes weed with Brendon whenever his mom pulls through and remembers to give Pete his intended $20 of weekly allowance. Frank doesn't know who Pete and Brendon get their weed from, but he has waited in the car while Brendon picked it up before. Brendon let him take a peek into the bag for curiosity's sake, and after that, Frank finally got why the code name for the stuff among his friends was broccoli.
Josh is already ripping into the case of Mike's Hard that he'd promised everyone, but all of the boys decline to take one. Josh shrugs, cracking open a second one as he decides, "Fine, more for me."

Mikey stands, stretching his arms high over his head. His too-small shirt rides up enough to show some hips as well as the front waistband of some grey Hanes, so of course Pete finds it utterly necessary to bring some grazing hands across the exposed skin while his boyfriend speaks. "I'm going to start taking some shots, who's game?"

Josh shakes his head vehemently while Gerard springs up and follows him, Frank in tow. Mikey lines up all of the assorted hard liquor, starting with Black Velvet and ending with Hawkeye. Pouring himself a rather full shot of Fireball, he prompts Frank and Gerard, "Pick your poison, boys."
Gerard all but snatches the bottle of Hawkeye, murmuring to himself, "Bout to fuck it up with nail polish remover."
"Frank? How about you?" Mikey asks.
Frank reaches for the Black Velvet, knowing nothing about it at all. He doesn't even know what it's supposed to taste like; he only grabbed it because it had the coolest name. He pours himself a teeny shot, but the more he looks down at it, the harder the thought of stomaching that shit becomes. Mikey roots through the fridge, producing a can of Coke for each of the boys and passing them around.
"What's this for?" Frank asks, holding up the soda.
"Dude, it's a chaser," Gerard answers.
"What's a chaser?" Frank asks.
Mikey and Gerard burst out laughing, and Frank blushes a little. "Well? What is it?"
"I can tell you've never drank before," Mikey giggles. "You chug it after a shot. That way you don't taste the alcohol so much."
Frank wrinkles his nose. "Does it taste that bad?"
Gerard's eyes peek over at the bottle next to Frank. "Black Velvet makes me wanna fucking choke."
Frank's eyes widen in fear, but Mikey reassures, "It's fine, Frank; just do it really fast and it won't matter."

Peering into the small pool of brown liquid in his shot glass, Frank feels uneasy. "I dunno; I'm kind of scared now."
"Just get it over with," Gerard encourages. "Mama didn't raise a bitch, right?"
"Mama raised a little bitch!" Frank squeaks. "You guys take yours the same time as me, okay?"
The two brothers agree to Frank's offer, and all at once, the boys down their shots. Frank immediately regrets the decision. Half a can of ice cold Coke later and that bitter taste is still crawling up his throat. "That shit is nasty!"

"I told you!" Gerard chirps. Mikey bobs his head in agreement, informing, "You chose the worst fucking kind."
"No more of that," Frank groans. "I'll take the alcoholic Kool-Aid." He rushes back into where Josh is sitting, slurping down a mango Mike's Hard. Frank's never been one to conform to masculinity. He reminds himself this as he cracks open his own and downs the fizzy drink.
To Frank's surprise, the Mike's Hard tastes good. It doesn't even taste like there's any alcohol in it, whereas the Black Velvet felt like straight up taking a swig of rubbing alcohol. In fact, Frank really likes the Mike's Hard, like, even more than Josh does, and this is very apparent after he polishes off five or so of the large cans.

Frank is one of the first ones to get drunk. He's a lightweight; that's what Gerard says. Pete and Brendon were as high as the Empire State within a half an hour, whereas Gerard had to do some heavy drinking before getting bus. Both Mikey and Josh only dragged slightly behind Frank, each tipsy and silly and giggly and affectionate, but not as bad as Frank. Frank is practically falling over whenever he stands. Frank is, what's the term, "lit."
And all of his friends are are going to give him such shit tomorrow, but at the moment, he doesn't care. Gerard leaves at one point to go to the bathroom, and when his boyfriend returns, Frank couldn't be any happier. "Gerard! You're back!" Frank rushes over in a stupor, nearly knocking over the bong that Pete had fixed out of a can of monster, electrical tape, and a pen. Hugging Gerard tightly, Frank plants a sloppy kiss against Gerard's jawline. Gerard, only buzzed, exclaims, "Frank, you are wasted!"
Frank starts laughing. "I guess so."
"But how wasted is he?" Pete asks. "Let's find out. Frank, take your pants off."
"Okay!" Frank replies. He starts undoing his belt, but Gerard doesn't let him get past the third belt loop before stopping him. "Frank! Frank, hello? Stop it."
Frank's hands freeze and his eyebrows raise. With widened eyes, he holds up his hands in defeat. "Fine, Mr. Man. Who the fuck are you to boss me around?"

Gerard can't start laughing without Frank cutting in, "I'm just kidding, baby."
All throughout the night, Frank won't shut up about what a good body Gerard has and how nice his eyes are and how he deserves nicethings and every sappy sentiment under the sun. Frank gets really touchy-feely when he's drunk, but the sweetheart side of him totally comes out.
When the time comes to sleep, Mikey and Pete depart up to Mikey's room. Pete has to help Mikey up the stairs so he doesn't fall. Meanwhile, Brendon and Josh share the pullout couch, while Gerard is very careful leading Frank down to his bedroom. He doesn't want Frank to fall, so he holds his hand the whole way down and walks slow. Once they get there, Frank plops himself down on Gerard's bed, wrestling out of his clothing something furious. Stripped down to a pair of what Gerard suspects to be brand new Star Wars boxers, Frank slurs, "Come here, Gerard. Let's go, man."
Gerard shakes his head. "No, Frank. You're drunk."
"So are you!" Frank retorts.
"I'm buzzed," Gerard replies. "You are fucking smashed." Removing his pants, Gerard crawls into bed with Frank, bringing the smaller boy close. He kisses Frank on the forehead, ordering, "Just go to sleep for now, okay?"

Frank nods, yawning before burrowing his head into Gerard's chest. Frank is out within minutes, but Gerard takes a little longer. Those extra ten minutes or so spent alone with his boyfriend in his arms gives him some time to reflect, and there's nothing like a reflection with a warm 136 pound lump of boy nuzzled up against you.

Notes

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