Tynkerbell

Frank was alone in the apartment he was going to be crashing in for a while. It was his sister's and her boyfriend Zack's, and they were kind enough to take him in —in a loving indentured servant sort if way. Frank was barely going to get paid (if at all) for his tech services, but he was being given a roof over his head and a promise of an amazing life experience, so the trade off seemed fair enough.

It was a one bedroom place, and that one bedroom was obviously occupied already, so Frank had to share the living room. His clothes and few possessions were waiting for him in two not-rather-large boxes in a corner of the room. Chelsea and Zack were both working late night shifts so that meant Frank was on his own until about one in the morning. He settled with raiding the fridge for some dinner and parked his tired ass on his new bed: the living room couch. He ate, sent out a couple texts to his dad and sister to let them know he made it okay, dozed off a little, and watched TV. It was an uneventful first evening on the west coast. Uneventful until after his ex-girlfriend called him.

It was 10:37pm, and the call with Lynn had ended long ago. Frank sat on the floor, his back leaning against the front of the sofa as he traced his finger around the rim of one of the empty beer bottles in front of him on the coffee table. A small drunken giggle passed his lips as he pictured his sister's face when she got home. And who the hell knew how this Zacky guy would react to find that his girlfriend's baby brother had polished off all the beer he had left in the fridge as well as what was left of a bottle of whiskey. Frank was feeling pretty happy now, but this was misery induced intoxication. The spiral into a depressed mood due to Lynn's phone call was completely and utterly his fault. If the idiot wasn't trying to remain friends with her that call would have been ignored and this situation could have been avoided.

The conversation had surprisingly went smoothly at the start, but then she had dropped the bomb on Frank. Just after two weeks she was back to dating Andrew fucking Tullis. That cuntfuck of an ex-boyfriend of hers that she had with before she and Frank starting dating. It didn't matter that Frank had did the breaking up, it didn't matter that he lived on the other side of the country now, it didn't matter that their relationship had turned into a steaming pile of misery in the last few months. It was still a big slap in the face, a huge punch in the gut. Lynn had stayed friends with Andrew during the entirety of their relationship. Frank never liked that fact, never liked the man who none too subtly let Frank know he was going to swoop in and get Lynn back the second Frank made one wrong move. Frank always acted civil though for Lynn's benefit. He may have never trusted that douche bag Andrew, but he had trusted Lynn so he never make a big deal over it. Frank had feigned a happiness to her over hearing the news. Gave her a "that's great, babe" followed by a prompt bullshit excuse of needing to go.

Lynn with Andrew. God it made Frank hate her. But he loved her. Frank had been thrown into a giant muddle of anger, hatred, regret, and self-pity. He felt so stupid for feeling so crushed over the news. But despite all her goddamn two-faced crazy during their relationship, he loved her. And it made him hate himself that he was still so attached. So he had wanted to forget her, and well, mission accomplished

Frank knew how fast and how little alcohol it took to affect him, but Frank just didn't care. DrunkFrank was usually a silly, giggly Frank. Nerves got kicked to the curb, and he was fun and idiotic and oblivious, as he tended to make poor life choices as with most people under the influence, but Frank didn't care about that. He had wanted to forget about that bitch and her bastard. Frank wanted to end the friendship, but just couldn't bring himself to do it. He wanted to be over her. But until that actually happened, the booze successfully knocked away thoughts of Lynn for now, leaving him in a sort of giddy state of boredom. He needed to get out and do something. And that's when the thought hit him. Brian said there was a pool. Drunk and going swimming, this was an awesome idea. What could possibly go wrong?
So it was out the back sliding door, and a grin splayed out on Frank's face when he spotted the large kidney bean shaped pool. It was surrounded by a sturdy white barred fence and tall full hedges. Barefoot, Frank headed straight for the gate —well, as straight as he could manage in his condition. After a short struggle to figure out the gate's closing latch, he let himself in and glanced around. It was pretty void of life at this time of night. The surrounding lounge chairs and tables were empty, except for a balled up towel resting on one. At first glance Frank thought he had the place all to himself, but he then spotted one person he'd be sharing the pool with currently swimming underwater. He giggled a bit to himself, hoping the swimmer was ready for some company. Frank looked down at his fully clothed self and back to the water again and grinned. This was a good idea. Totally. He took off into a run the best he could toward the deep end of the pool, jumping into the water with a yell.

The water was cool compared to the warm night air, and through his drunkenness Frank appreciated the refreshing feeling. Truly gone were any thoughts of his ex-girlfriend. His feet came into contact with the pool floor, and he immediately pushed off, shooting upward and then letting out another gleeful yell when his head popped up out of the surface of the water. His yell was met by another's soft chuckle.

"Well, hello there." Frank heard the greeting of the other swimmer, the masculine voice vaguely familiar.

"Hi!" Frank responded back enthusiastically.

The man was leaning against the wall in the mid point of the pool, about 5 feet deep. The area was decently lit, but Frank couldn't really make out the man's face from where he was. Frank swam toward his fellow night time swimmer, a bit slow what with being absolutely smashed and with the added weight of his wet clothes. He reached the wall near him and struggled a bit before successfully pulling himself out. Frank stood at the edge of the pool, his soaking wet shirt and jeans clinging to his body, and looked down at the man who was looking back at him with a grin. The man who Frank now recognized to be his motorcycle chauffeur.

"Hey, I know you!" Frank was grinning ear to ear, seemingly thrilled to have recognized a friend.

Brian chuckled, the look of utter amusement playing on his face. "I would hope so. I like to think I leave lasting impressions."

"Yeah, you were pretty cool. But hey, don't move, kay? Watch." Frank took a few steps backward and than ran forward, launching himself into a sloppy —albeit successful— little flip over Brian's head back into the water. Drunken attention whore, that was pretty typical too.

Brian laughed more. "Very impressive," he nodded when Frank came up, still grinning. "Though you know, all those wet clothes could weigh down and drown a tiny one like you."
Frank giggled. And his own normal sober laughter was enough of a giggle in itself, but with the addition of alcohol the sound was utterly adorable and ridiculous.
He again swam to the wall and climbed out, this time lying on his back along the edge staring up straight ahead at the night sky. Not that many stars could be seen because of the lights of city, but the sight was still captivating. That is until another sense overwhelmed Frank's attention more. "I'm wet," he kind of said it with distaste then burst into more giggles and let himself roll back into the pool with a little splash.
"And drunk, hmm?" Brian smirked to himself with a raised brow, pulling Frank from under the water and laughing more. "That tends to happen when you jump in a pool. Especially fully clothed."
"I guess you're right," Frank showed him a sheepish grin, splashing Brian a little. "Having your clothes on in here does feel kinda gross," he made a face that scrunched his nose up cutely.
Frank found a spot shallow enough where he could stand, the water reaching just below his shoulders and undid the button and zipper of his pants and unsuccessfully struggled at pushing them down his legs. Frank smiled with an idea. He raised his legs up toward Brian, keeping himself afloat by moving his arms through the water. He wiggled his feet in his new friend's face, "Pull 'em off," he giggled.
Brian smirked and reached down grabbing at Frank's jeans and pulled them off slowly. "My pleasure."
"Thank you," Frank grinned to him once they were off. Frank pealed his t-shirt off over his head and chucked it out of the pool as well, leaving himself in just his boxer briefs as he let himself relax floating on the water. "Ah, that's better," he sighed.
"Any time," Brian eyed Frank up and down slowly. Frank had the toned arms of someone who hauled around a lot of gear. And while the kid certainly didn't have six-pack abs, that bare chest and tummy weren't bad to look at. More tattoos were revealed in his state of undress: twin swallows low on his abdomen, and the word 'hope' accompanied with a black flame over his heart. And still hidden from Brian's view for now was a jack'o'lantern on the top of Frank's back.
"Dude, so you're Synyster Gates," Frank randomly expressed, speaking of Brian's stage name. DrunkFrank had no problem being chatty. DrunkFrank was actually pretty goddamn chatty.
"That's me. One in the same."
"It's kinda cool I guess. But like it's so random," Frank giggled a little. "Like do you have a thing for evil doorways? Oh! And why do you spell it with Ys? That's so fucking stupid." He giggled harder.
Brian let out a huff of a laugh. "Alright, because the noise you're making his incredibly cute, I'll let that slide."
"So what should I call you?"
"You can call me whatever you want, Tinkerbell."
"Is that my name now? Should I spell it with a Y?" Frank sent himself into another round of hysterics, his harder laughter this time around making himself sink down into the water to his shoulders.
Brian shook his head in amusement. "Now that would be really fucking stupid."
"I think I kinda like it a little. Tinkerbell," Frank mused with a calmer giggle, settling on swimming around backwards in little figure eight patterns. "It's a nice change from people automatically calling me midget, you know? Oh—" Frank's eyes went a bit wide in surprise when his back bumped into Brian's chest. "Oops," Frank giggled, turning his head to look up at him with a cheeky grin.
Brian's hands shot out to Frank's waist to steady him. And Frank let the man maneuver him so they were now face to face, Brian's hands coming to rest at Frank's hips. "No harm done," Brian grinned.
"Hey, you know what?" Frank tilted his head slightly to the side in thought. "You should take me riding again because it was fun when I almost died," he giggled.
"You can ride anytime you want, babe," Brian smirked.
"Babe," Frank echoed back with another giggle and a snort of amusement. "You could teach me too ride maybe?" Frank went on with that ever present drunken smile. "That would be so awesome. I would totally listen and not break your shit. It could be fun, yeah?"
"I would be more than happy to teach you anything that you want to know. We'll have lots of fun together, Frank. I promise." Brian smirked, giving Frank's hips a small squeeze and then letting his thumbs slowly brush over the Frank's bare skin.
Frank was a slight mess of giggles and squirms and shivers. "Cool," was his oblivious reply.
"I'll be more than cool, I can assure you."
Frank just giggled at Brian softly with the silly thought of how the man was a weirdo. Frank slowly moved away from him to climb out of the pool again. It took him twice as long this time to pull himself out, and he was a bit wobbly when he stood since his boozed up mind felt like he was standing on the side of a hill that wasn't there that was being slowly swiveled back and forth.
"I'm bored being wet," Frank proclaimed with a sigh. "I'm hungry. Are you hungry? All I want right now is a nasty 7Eleven hotdog, like you have no idea," Frank laughed.
"That I'll have to pass on," Brian remarked amused, still down in the water now holding on to the pool edge, body floating out with his legs lazily kicking under the water as he kept his eyes on the boy.
"Stick in the mud," Frank showed a silly scowl. "We should totally do something, though. I'm bored, and you were fun earlier today."
"I think I know a few things we could do," Brian smirked.
"Sweet," Frank obliviously grinned. He turned to walk away like he knew where the hell he was headed but was stopped in his tracks in the form of his wet clumped up shirt on the ground. He tripped with a lovely lack of grace, falling to the ground with a yelp and then bursting into laughter over himself.
Brian hopped out of the pool, exposing his toned body. He shook the water from his hair and swim trunks before leaning down to help Frank to his feet carefully. "I'd say you could use some coffee, slugger. A cold glass of water at the least. Can I trust you to walk without falling on that pretty face of yours again?" Brian teased, then went about gathering Frank's soaked clothes from the ground.
"I know how to walk," Frank defended with a roll of his eyes.
"Yeah, I could tell," the man teased again, nodding down to the wet body print Frank had left when he had fallen. Brian stepped over to a nearby table and grabbed his towel and keys from it. "Follow me." He gestured for Frank to come with him out the pool gate.
Frank just nodded to Brian a little and followed him, walking carefully and not at all bothering to question himself as to why he was listening to the man. Brian tossed Frank his towel, smirking as he very obviously glanced at Frank's only bit of clothing. Boxer briefs alone didn't really do too much to hide any 'penile definition' in the first place, but with the gray material completely soaked through with that added clingyness they didn't leave too much to the imagination. "My place okay?" Brian asked.
"Sure," Frank smiled, holding the towel around himself over his shoulders.
"Great," Brian swung his arm around Frank's shoulders and pulled him close as they walked towards his apartment. "Now, I'm not gonna have to carry you up the stairs, am I?" The teasing continued.
"Nooo," Frank stuck his tongue out at him and shrugged out of Brian's hold, walking ahead of him a few paces to the stairs. "I'm perfectly capable of stepping up fucking steps."
He held onto the railing with both hands, but somehow managed to stumble while only on the second step. If only it didn't feel like the ground was slightly slant-spinning on a two second loop. He heard Brian start to laugh, but at least the man was there again to help him to his feet. Brian passed Frank his clothes to hold instead, while Brian used his now free arms to lift Frank up.
"I think maybe you should let me take care of this," Brian grinned, holding Frank against his chest as he climbed the stairs.
"It's like we just got married," Frank giggled, thinking how he was being held like a bride about to be carried over the threshold. "And I'm the wife!" Frank barely was able to get out as his laughter grew.
Brian held back his own laughter as he struggled a bit unlocking his door with Frank still in his arms. "Does that mean this is our honeymoon?" He wiggled his eyebrows as they entered the apartment. He set Frank down in front of him, taking the wet clothes and towel and disappearing for just a second inside the bathroom to dump everything in the tub.
"It would be," Frank giggled more.
"Hmmm," Brian tapped his chin, thinking. "Well you know, that's kind of a special occasion. You can't ignore a honeymoon, it's bad luck," he nodded, matter-of-factly.
"Is it?" Frank giggled a little, he was happy to play along. "Bad luck's not good."
"It's not," Brian walked towards him slowly, with a mischievous look on his face.
Frank watched Brian get close, a soft giggle leaving the boy's throat when they were just inches apart.
Weird friend is weird.
Brian smirked, running his fingers down the side of Frank's face slowly as their eyes locked, Frank's unsure gaze meeting Brian's hungry one. The man showed Frank a reassuring smile before slowly leaning in, looking to close that small gap between their lips, but Frank took a small step backward.
"What are you doing?" Frank questioned with a slight giggle to his voice, this strange mix of confusion and amusement playing out of his face.
"Well, trying to kiss that pretty face of yours," Brian spoke honestly.
Frank blushed automatically. He chewed at his lip while his smile still remained there. So he was legitimately being hit on by a guy. This was new and weird and silly, but not unwelcome in Frank's state. Flattery was flattery. "Guys aren't pretty," he contended with a simper.
"You are," Brian stated with a cool smile. He looked over Frank thoughtfully, a touch of amusement and even hopefulness in the man's eyes. "I'm getting the feeling like you've never kissed a guy before."
"Well, that'd be right," Frank admitted, then proceeded to get into a bit of a debate with himself over the correctness of that answer. "Err Wait, I have. Wait, no? Yeah, no. I don't think that counts."
"Well," Brian chuckled softly, "how do you feel about trying new things then?"
"I dunno," Frank bit his lip in an unintentional coy manner. He side-stepped a little further from his friend but only so he could lean against the wall. Standing upright on his own was becoming increasingly hard. "Maybe. I like girls, but you're pretty good-looking I guess."
"You guess?" Brian's brows shot up in a sort of playful indignation.
"Yeah, well I mean you are. I have eyes, don't I? Hey, you know what guy I think is crazy hot and amazing? Tony Stark," Frank began to divulge with drunken abandon, hands gesturing greatly to get his point across. "You know, Iron Man Robert Downey Jr. Tony Stark. But like, not Robert Downey Jr., but Robert Downey Jr.'s Tony Stark. Like it's kinda gross 'cause he's as old as my dad, but he's so bad-ass and in charge and a fucking genius and just this awesome bastard and so..." Frank ended that sentiment with a sexy purr noise, promptly followed by a giggle. "You know, you're pretty bad-ass. Fuckin' ride a motorcycle and in a band and shit."
"Well, I'm no Iron Man," Brian played off, entertained by Frank's man-crush confession, "but I try."
"Nah, you're cool." Frank looked Brian's face over intently. "Did you still want to kiss me? I think I wanna kiss you. Yeah. Maybe? That could be fun, yeah? I like kissing."
"I think it could be lots of fun," Brian took this opportunity to move close to Frank again. "Just trust me."
Before he could drunkenly mutter another word, Frank had his lips lightly covered by Brian's. There was that brief second where Frank couldn't help but release a little giggle over what was happening, but it truly was only a second of feeling silly. The touch of those lips did feel quite nice, and Frank let his eyes slip closed and found himself impulsively pressing his lips harder against the taller man's. Frank really did like kissing.
Brian's hands found their way to Frank's waist, holding him tightly. Frank felt his bottom lip being nipped at lightly, then Brian's tongue come into play. Frank's betraying mind was telling him this was a good thing. A. Very. Good. Thing. So Frank let the kiss deepen, even moved up on his toes to push himself closer to Brian's body so their bare chests touched. He may not have liked men, but Frank was liking this. And a DrunkFrank was a sucker for steamy makeout sessions.
In the heat of it all, Frank suddenly found himself being lifted up and carried a short distance into the dimly lit kitchen and set on the edge of a sturdy table. Brian immediately got back to the task at hand, kissing down Frank's jaw slowly and letting his nails ghost over the soft skin of his sides. Brian smiled at the goosebumps that were already forming under his touch.
"You're gonna be fun," he said breathily, smirking against Frank's neck.
A deep shaky breath passed through Frank's lips, and he tilted his head back slightly, exposing his neck more. The sensations he was feeling, the attention he was getting: it felt amazing. And in his current state Frank could care less who he was receiving it from. His body had thrummed to life in a way it hadn't since he was with Lynn (back in their better days, which was more far off than the break up). Finally getting that feeling back was very much welcomed. He was utterly lost in the moment, and wanted nothing more than to make that moment last. Frank's hands traveled to the front of Brian, his finger tips running over his chest and abdomen softly. Exploring. He felt Brian's hands start to travel as well, gliding along the tops of his thighs that caused a certain twitch between his legs. The real attention was being given to his neck though. Brian had bitten down on the skin causing a soft groan to drift from Frank's lips. Soft kisses over the pink teeth marks followed, and Frank couldn't believe it was possible to be this turned on. He needed contact. He ached for it, and so Frank wrapped his legs around Brian, making their hips crash together, that tiny bit of friction between them making both men moan.
Brian raised his head away, wetting his lips slowly as he gazed down at Frank with an almost predatory look in his eyes. Frank giggled softly, showing a look in return that definitely exuded the fact that he was having fun and wouldn't mind some more. The boy raked his nails along Brian's sides in a tentative innocent sort of way, and these actions made Brian take an unsure shaky breath. Their eyes stayed locked for a few drawn out seconds; Frank oblivious to the older man's change in demeanor. No confident look, no triumphant smirking; Brian was frowning now with a mix of anger and disbelief playing on his face. He let out a frustrated groan, running a hand over his face and pulling back from Frank slowly.
Frank quickly reacted with a frown of his own. He cocked his head to the side, looking at Brian curiously. "What are you doing?"
"This was a mistake. You're drunk," Brian stated with a disappointing sigh.
"Yeah, so what?" Frank shrugged, "I don't fucking care. Come back here and bite me again." Frank flashed a coy smile. "I really liked that."
"Jesus," Brian sighed, rubbing his hand down his face again, frustrated. "I'd really love to continue this, you have no idea, but..." Brian let the sentence hang. He stared at Frank for a few seconds, then just shook his head, muttering to himself first. "Dammit, shit. Just, when you're sober, 'kay? At least not this shitfaced."
Frank frowned again, narrowing his eyes this time, none too happy to hear that Brian was putting an end to the fun he was having. "You're just mean," Frank huffed accusingly. "I'm leaving, asshole." He scooted himself off the table to leave, but he was unable to balance right when he landed on his feet. Frank luckily found himself caught by the man before he could meet the floor.
"Stay here," Brian released another sigh, keeping his hands on Frank's arms to steady him. "You're wasted. I'll sleep on the couch."
Frank was going to argue, but somewhere in his muddled brain he was able to piece together a bit of rational thinking. He probably wouldn't get too far if he tried to leave. Not when standing upright took this much effort. "Fiiine," Frank groaned.
Brian smiled just a bit, ruffling Frank's damp hair before he carefully led him to the bedroom. He dug through a couple dresser drawers and pulled out some clothes. "Here," he handed a pair of shorts to Frank. "You can wear these. Your clothes are soaked."
"Thanks, I guess," Frank wore a tired frown. "G'night, then."
Brian gave a curt nod in response. He lingered for a few seconds, a somewhat unsure look on his face before he just sighed to himself yet again and turned to leave. "Dammit," Frank heard Brian mutter as the man walked from the room, "What the fuck, Haner."

Notes