Grey Crimson Skies 4/5

[turps]

Pencil point pressed against the page, Gerard tries his hardest to capture the image he's trying to picture. Frank has asked him to help decorate, and Gerard wants to help, but everything he imagines seems blurry and nothing he's attempted has been right. It's all kinds of frustrating and he hates that drawing anything is so hard, especially when it used to be easy. It feels like yet another thing that's been pulled out of his grasp, and his fingers tighten around the pencil, his knuckles white.

"Have you seen this?"

Gerard closes his sketchbook when Mikey comes downstairs. He's dressed for bed and his bare feet pad against the floor as he sits down, putting a sheet of paper on the table. The last time Gerard saw it, it was folded and weighted under the unicorn, now he can see the actual words. Frank Iero requests the pleasure of the company of Michael James Way on Saturday 4th. Destination secret. Meet up six thirty in the kitchen of the Way establishment.

Mikey's got his fingers resting on the invitation, looking down at it as if it's something perplexing. "He doesn't say where we're going, how am I supposed to know what to wear?"

"You wear the same clothes wherever you go," Gerard points out, because Mikey's got one basic wardrobe, just when he goes to work he tones it down -- a little.

Mikey looks up at Gerard. "I change how I look."

"Rotating band t-shirts doesn't count." Gerard laces his fingers together. "Or are we talking about that red-letter day when you wore a sweater?"

"Fuck you," Mikey says mildly, and goes back to looking at the invitation. "I think he's planning something special, I should dress special."

"Yeah," Gerard agrees, thinking of Frank, and the way he flushed as he admitted hiring two tuxes. "I think Frank has plans for that."

"You know what he's planning?" Mikey sounds surprised, and he fixes Gerard with a look. "Tell me."

"No," Gerard says, already steeling himself for what he knows is coming.

"Please," Mikey says, breaking out his usual tactics of opening his eyes wide and looking pleading. Usually it's a sure-fire thing, but today Gerard vows to stay strong, knowing how much planning Frank's put into the surprise.

"I'm going to watch TV." Showing how immune he is to Mikey's pleading, Gerard turns away and makes his way to the living room. Flopping down onto the couch, he grabs the remotes, and puffs out air when Mikey drops down beside him, his elbow impacting against Gerard's side.

"You should tell me, then I could dress to fit the situation."

"You could wear a sack and Frank would think you looked perfect," Gerard says, flicking through the channels. "You want to watch The Apprentice?"

"Sure." Mikey curls close, his head against Gerard's shoulder, watching as the apprentices on screen attempt to sell some gadget to an uninterested audience.

"You'll like it," Gerard says, needing Mikey to know that at least.

"I know," Mikey says, and when he moves his hair scratches against Gerard's neck. "It's Frank. I like everything he does."

Gerard pokes Mikey hard in the thigh. "You're fucking sickening."

"No, man, I'm brutal," Mikey says, throwing some kind of gang sign, and Gerard can't help laughing, especially when Mikey looks up at him, grinning wide.

"Make that mental," Gerard says, and it feels good to laugh so freely, actually enjoying the world instead of fighting through every minute of the day. Mouth aching from smiling, Gerard settles back down, Mikey following, fitting together as always.

~*~*~*~

"You caught him robbing his own store," Ray says suddenly, and he lifts one of the trestle panels out of the back of the van. Holding it upright, he peers at Bob through the criss-crossed strips of wood, his fingers curling over the joins like he's clinging on.

"No," Bob says simply, picking up another panel. It feels rough against his hands and he can smell wood and creosote as he rests it against his body and shuts the van doors.

"Fine, don't tell me, I'll find out one day." Ray picks up his panel, making his way into the Way's garden, which right now looks like utter chaos. Coils of small lights lie on the grass and Brian's sitting cross-legged on the ground, meticulously wiring together two leads. Bob sets down the panel against the wall.

"Watch you don't blow yourself up."

"Fuck you, Bryar," Brian says, never looking up. A last twist of wire, and he puts down the lead, leaving it trailing over his lap. "Frank's mom came while you were gone, she hugged me."

"She does that," Ray says, frowning a little as he stands in the middle of the chaos. "The first time we met she hugged and copped a feel."

Bob grins and steps over a collapsed trestle table. "It's the Toro thighs, they drive the ladies wild."

"It was Frank's mom," Ray says, looking horrified.

"Well you know where he gets it from, the handsy little fucker," Bob says. "Thinking of, where's he gone?"

"His mom took him to pick up the tuxes, thank fuck. I was getting dizzy watching him run around." Standing in one smooth movement, Brian cracks his knuckles. "So, we've got four hours?"

Ray pulls a sheet of paper out of his back pocket, reading down the list. "Mikey finishes work at five. I'll pick him up in the van and bring him back here. By that time his tux will have been dropped off and he'll just need to get dressed."

"I still don't get why you're all so sure he'll wear a blindfold to come home," Brian says. "I wouldn't."

"You're not Mikey," Bob says, and the truth is, he wouldn't wear a blindfold either, but he knows Mikey will, because despite everything he hasn't lost his sense of trust, or that part of him that means going somewhere blindfolded will become part of an adventure.

"Fair enough." Brian picks up a coil of lights, says, "I thought I'd start on the unicorn, I've been working out how to light up its horn."

"Good," Bob says, and picks up his own coil of lights. "You won't be able to reach to string lights across the garden."

Brian shucks the coil onto his shoulder. "If we weren't pushed for time I'd end you right now."

"Consider me cowering in fear," Bob says. "Oh, but wait, I'm not."

"Guys," Ray breaks in, and Bob gives a last mock snarl at Brian before turning to see what Ray wants, which is when he sees that Gerard's standing at the side of the lawn, holding a large roll of paper in his hands.

"Frank asked if I'd help decorate." Gerard's squinting in the bright light and he looks tired, the shadows under his eyes dark and his hair tangled in clumps. "He wanted something personal, what Mikey would like and, erm, it took all night, but it's done."

"I thought you weren't drawing right now," Bob says, and holds out his hands. "Can I?"

"I wasn't," Gerard says, and he's chewing on the side of his mouth as he holds out the roll of paper. "But I had to try."

Holding the top of the paper, Bob unrolls the drawing, Ray and Brian moving close as the scene is exposed. Broken buildings set against a blood-red sky heavy with dark clouds, and in the foreground, figures that Bob has seen before, but unlike last year this time they're standing tall and proud in their black uniforms, Gerard at the front, head tilted back and back straight, as if he's taking on the world. Mikey and Frank at one side, standing close, Mikey holding a shield and Frank a sword dripping with blood. Bob and Ray at the other side of Gerard, Ray standing solid, his hair loose as he wields a flaming pitchfork, Bob snarling, a spiked chain wrapped around one hand, the other against Gerard's back, and then further back, Brian, wearing his own black uniform, the arms rolled up to expose his tattoos as he scowls, his fists clenched as if ready to do battle.

"Whoa, that's sick," Ray says, and he reaches out, fingers over the portrait of himself with its proud expression and the briefest hint of smile. "You've made me look kick-ass."

"Because you are, Gerard says, sounding confused. He's got his arms crossed over his chest, but he unfolds them, pointing to each person. "You're strong and good, Bob's my protector, Mikey my heart and Frank's like a wildflower, fierce and true." Gerard moves his hand, pointing at the drawing of Brian. "Being at the back doesn't mean you're less, it means you're trusted."

"I get it," Brian says gruffly, and he grips his coil of lights tightly. "I'm going to sort out that unicorn."

He leaves, almost running across the grass and Gerard looks concerned as he watches him go. "I didn't mean to hurt his feelings."

"You didn't," Bob says, and starts to roll up the picture. "Do you want to stay and give us a hand?"

Gerard looks back at the house, but then nods, says, "Sure."

~*~*~*~

"Take a step up," Bob says. He's holding Mikey's arm, steering him into the kitchen. When they're both inside, he shuts the door and removes the red bandanna that's been wound around Mikey's head. "We're inside, you can open your eyes now."

"I heard noises," Mikey says, and tries to fluff his hair back into shape as he looks in the direction of the window.

"That was you tripping over your own feet." Gently, Bob pushes Mikey towards Gerard, who's waiting at the bottom of the stairs. "Go get dressed, Frank will be here soon."

"I don't even know what to get dressed in," Mikey grumbles, but Gerard can see how his eyes are shining as he heads up to his bedroom.

Gerard listens to the sound of him walking, and takes a moment to talk to Bob. "Did everything go okay?"

"Like clockwork, he didn't see a thing," Bob says, and pulls out his phone, frowning at the screen. "I need to call Frank, he's sent at least ten texts."

Gerard gestures to the stairs, says," I'm going up." He does, leaving Bob to his reassurances, promising Frank everything is going fine. Which it is, better than fine. Except for one thing, when Gerard gets to Mikey's bedroom he's making no attempt to get changed, is just sitting on his unmade bed, sheets spilling past his legs as he looks at the tux that's been hung on the back of his closet door.

It's covered in plastic and Gerard knows there's a blue bow tie tucked in the pocket, a match to the cummerbund that's carefully folded and hanging inside the shirt and jacket -- it's not Mikey at all. Too polished. Too fancy. Too everything, and Gerard feels anxious, knowing how much Frank wants this to work.

"Where did it come from?" Mikey says, and clasps his hands together as he stares at the tux, as if it's going to jump up and attack.

"It's a rental, Frank's mom brought it," Gerard says, and sits on the bed, resting his head on Mikey's shoulder. "Frank wanted tonight to be special."

"But that's not me, Gee." Mikey sounds confused and he's breathing fast, pulling in air. "Do you think he's saying something? That I need to smarten up?"

"I think you're a moron," Gerard says, sitting up straight and digging his fingers into Mikey's ribs. "He's gone on you and is going for a specific theme and the tux is part of that, it doesn't mean you can't modify it to make it you."

"I could do that," Mikey says slowly, then stands, looking determined as he pulls off his t-shirt, dropping it to the floor. Pulling open the door of his closet, he crouches down, back curved and the knobbles of his spine sticking out as he rummages through the tangle of belts and shoes that litter the bottom. "Go it." Mikey stands, holding a black studded belt. "I'm going to shower. Can you plug in my straighteners?"

"Sure," Gerard says. It takes him a few minutes to actually find them, Mikey's room is a disaster, piles of stuff everywhere, but eventually Gerard finds them under a heavy textbook about the native fauna of the Americas, and plugs them in, setting them safely on the floor.

"Is Bob staying tonight?"

Gerard sits back on the bed, barely able to hear Mikey over the sound of splashing water. He's not actually sure if Bob's staying or not, he usually does but Gerard never asks, just hopes that he does. He always feels better when Bob is around, even if they're just sitting watching TV.

"I'm not sure," Gerard says loudly, then lowers his voice when Mikey walks back into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist. "Probably."

Mikey sits on the edge of his bed, unfastening the towel and tugging it from underneath him so he can rub at his chest and arms. "He's a good guy."

"He is," Gerard agrees, wondering where Mikey's going with this.

"Did you ever..." Mikey stops talking, leaning forward to pick a pair of boxers off a pile on the floor. Pulling them on, he glances over at Gerard. "He likes you."

"I'd hope he does considering how often he's here. He'd be masochistic if he didn't," Gerard says, and sits back on the bed, tucking up his legs as Mikey pulls the cover off the tux and sets the jacket to one side so he can take the shirt off the hanger.

Mikey slips his arms in the shirt and it hangs to mid thigh, crisp white cotton against the pale skin of his legs. He starts fastening the buttons. "He doesn't look like he'd be into that scene."

"You can't judge what people are into by how they look," Gerard chides gently.

"I know," Mikey says, working pearly buttons through concealed button holes, leaving the top two undone. He slides the pants off the hanger, standing on one leg as he pulls them on. "Frank said Bob didn't even cry when he got stabbed with that garden fork."

"I don't really think that counts as him being masochistic," Gerard says. "And wasn't he too busy chasing Frank and vowing vengeance at the time?"

Mikey fastens his pants and picks up the studded belt, deliberately fastening it a little loose so it slips down on one hip. "Frank didn't mean to stab him. What should I do with this?"

Mikey's holding up the bow tie, and Gerard shakes his head, unable to see the appeal. "Leave it off. You're looking great without it."

Smiling slightly, Mikey pulls his boots from where they've been kicked under the bed and sits next to Gerard. Reaching back, he pulls a pair of striped socks from between the bed and the wall and pulls one on before pushing his foot into a boot, tugging the laces tight before fastening the buckles. "He does like you."

"And I like him," Gerard says. "As a friend."

Mikey looks up from where he's fastening the final buckle, his hair falling in his eyes in damp strands. "It could be more."

"No, it couldn't," Gerard disagrees. He doesn't know why Mikey's bringing this up now, probably a combination of his anniversary with Frank and Gerard finally feeling a little better, but the facts remain, despite the pills that allow him to function, Gerard's still damaged. He's not about to inflict that on anyone else. "Bob deserves someone better."

"There's no one better than you," Mikey says, fierce and immediate. "He'd be lucky to have you."

"Not going to happen," Gerard says, and squeezes Mikey's shoulder. "Want me to do your eye make-up?"

Mikey picks up his other boot, says, "Please."

Standing, Gerard picks up the eyeliner that's lying on top of a pile of CDs, next to a mirror resting against the wall. Taking off the lid, he sets it to one side and then kneels in front of Mikey who's taken off his glasses, setting them on his pillow.

"Look up," Gerard carefully runs a line of black under Mikey's right eye. He goes slowly, ensuring the color is even, each tiny lash backed with black. He's so close he can see each blemish on Mikey's face, the way his bottom lip is dry and the acne that lingers on his chin. Feeling a wash of love, Gerard finishes Mikey's left eye and then pulls him into a hug, says, "Love you, kid."

"Love you too," Mikey's holding on tight, his head tucked against Gerard's shoulder as he says softly. "You're okay right?

"Getting there," Gerard says truthfully, therapy sessions and medication ensuring most days he wakes up and can actually get out of bed. Indulging himself, Gerard holds on, then breaks away, looking at the clock that's sitting on the floor when he hears the door and then the sound of voices. "Frank's early."

Mikey's eyes are wide and he puts on his glasses, patting at his hair which is lying flat to his head. "I'm not ready yet."

"He won't mind waiting," Gerard says, and stands as Mikey jumps up, gathering his comb and lacquer. "I'll tell him you'll be down soon."

Mikey nods, already kneeling and teasing out his hair.

A last fond look and Gerard goes downstairs, where Bob's offering drinks to Frank's mom. Frank himself is standing next to the table and he looks up sharply when Gerard comes into view.

"Mikey'll be a few minutes," Gerard says, taking in Frank's outfit. He's wearing a tux too, but like Mikey, has modified it in his own way. a purple pansy drawn on his white shirt, the color a match to his bangs. He's also holding a bunch of flowers, a purple ribbon wrapped around the stalks.

"Do you think it's too girlie?" Frank asks, looking anxious. "I should have got him something else. I should go, get him some candy."

About to turn around, Frank's stopped by his mom who rests her hands on his shoulders. "There's nothing wrong with giving flowers to boys." She looks at Gerard. "Don't you agree?"

Caught, Gerard stops trying to sidle towards Bob. "I think gender norms are an outdated process, and Mikey likes flowers."

"Of course he does," she smiles approvingly, and then lets go of Frank when there's a sound of footsteps from upstairs. Taking his opportunity, Gerard moves over to Bob, Frank's mom joining them as Mikey appears.

His hair is still damp at the ends, and he's left the jacket upstairs, his modified tux nothing but the white shirt tucked tightly into the black pants, the studs on his belt catching the light as he moves. When he sees everyone looking Mikey hesitates a moment, then sees Frank, and at that moment it's plainly obvious that no one else exists in the room.

"You look amazing," Frank says, and he stepping forward, holding out his flowers. "I brought you these."

Mikey ducks his head, says, "Thank you. I like your shirt."

Frank grins. "I decorated it myself."

"It's awesome," Mikey says, and slides a pansy out of the bunch, stepping forward so he can slide it behind Frank's ear. "There. Perfect."

"No yet," Frank says, and takes his own flower, and Mikey crouches down slightly, allowing Frank to thread it into his hair. "Now it's perfect."

"They're so sweet my teeth are aching," Bob says, leaning in so he can whisper in Gerard's ear, but despite his gruff tone he's failing to hide a smile.

"We need pictures." Gerard jumps slightly when Frank's mom darts past, going for her bag which she's left on the kitchen counter. Rummaging inside she pulls out her camera and looks around before pointing at a spot in front of the wall. "Frank, Mikey. Stand there, I'm going to take pictures."

"Mom," Frank protests, but he moves anyway, tugging a clearly reluctant Mikey after him.

Frank's mom peers at her camera. "I need to send copies to the family, you both look so handsome I want to show you off. Now smile." She holds up the camera, and Frank grins while Mikey drops into his mournful 'camera expression' something Gerard's seen thousands of times. He's expecting Linda to tell Mikey to smile, but all she does is take a series of pictures, before letting her hand drop and turning to Gerard. "Now one with you and Mikey. They need to see that good looks run in the family."

"Erm, no, I don't." Gerard tries to indicate that he's in no state for pictures, dressed in days old clothes and his hair lank around his face, but she's having none of it, just points at Mikey, who's leaning against the wall and looking amused.

"You look perfectly fine, now come stand next to your brother."

"Go on, Gee, you can't disappoint the lady," Bob says, not bothering to hide his grin. Reluctantly, Gerard goes to stand next to Mikey, who slumps down and presses close, his arm around Gerard.

"Look at you two, you're adorable!" Linda takes what seems like an endless series of pictures as Frank stands behind her, making faces. Thankful when she takes the last one, Gerard starts to move, but stops when she says, "And now Bob, too. We need the whole family."

Surprised, Gerard turns to look at Bob, who's shaking his head as he makes for the door. "Oh fuck no."

"Just a couple, for my album," Linda says, and Gerard can see where Frank learnt to be so charming when he needs to, because Linda is looking hopeful, her eyes wide, until eventually, with a barely disguised ill-grace, Bob joins them. "Fantastic. Bob, stand on Mikey's other side." She takes the pictures, and then more with Frank included, and Gerard's starting to feel exposed, his cheeks hurting from where he's forcing a smile.

"That's enough, mom," Frank says, and he grabs hold of Mikey's hand, all his nerves from before seeming to rush back in a flood as he looks toward outside. "Mikey, fuck. I wanted to celebrate our anniversary with something special. If you hate it we'll do something else."

"I'll love it," Mikey says, sounding certain as Frank looks at him, with no hint of a smile.

"You don't even know what we're doing."

"I'll still love it," Mikey says, and Gerard wants to remember this moment forever, when it feels like everything is possible and Mikey's so certain that he's loved.

Frank takes a deep breath, says, "Okay, right. I asked Gerard and he said you'd never gone to your prom, and neither have I, because proms are overrated and stupid, but I wanted you to have one, something normal that we can remember when we're old. So, we made you one."

Mikey bites at his bottom lip and he's clenching Frank's fingers. "You made me a prom?"

"We did," Frank says, and leads Mikey toward the door. "Bob, Ray and Brian, Gerard and my mom. They made it special." He opens the door, and they step outside.

Since Gerard's been out there things have changed. Tiny lights are lit up and brilliant white, strung in lines from one side of the garden to the other. The screens that block people from seeing in from the street are covered in flowers, some artificial, some real, surrounding the hanging plastic figures -- a green dinosaur, batman perched on the back of a giant black bat, while red tea light candles are tucked safely at the bottom. In a back corner the gazebo has been wrapped in lights, a table and two chairs inside, a bowl containing punch set on the black cloth that's decorated with battling robots. Gerard's picture is hanging at the back, while the dragon bird bath has been filled with floating candles and Ray's iPod is sitting next to the portable speakers, playing the Smashing Pumpkins.

"You did it for me?" Mikey's still looking around, as if he can't believe what he's seeing, and Gerard can't blame him, because this isn't just special, it's magic, and Gerard feels a knot in his throat, knowing that sometimes life can be amazing. "Oh my god."

Wiping at his eyes, Gerard looks to see what's made Mikey sound so shocked, and sees him walk to the unicorn, which has been lit up somehow, its horn glowing with silver light.

"I got you something." Still holding Mikey's hand, Frank goes to the unicorn, taking hold of the necklace that's lying on its back. Picking it up, he holds it up so Mikey can see. "I'd have got you a ring, but I thought this would be better. Mikey Way, will you go steady?"

"Fuck yes," Mikey says, and Gerard expects Frank to giggle or grin or jump in celebration. He does none of those, just looks at Mikey as if he's the most precious thing in the world.

Clustered in the doorway, they watch as Frank fastens the necklace around Mikey's neck, and in return Mikey gives him a closed-mouth kiss before they both disappear into the main garden.

Linda beams. "I should go, Frank doesn't need his mom here."

"We'll walk you out," Bob says, and together they go to Linda's car. Opening the door, she hesitates before getting inside, looking at Gerard.

"You're doing a great job bringing up that boy."

"I've had nothing to do with it," Gerard says. He scratches at his face and looks at the ground, at the small stones and stray flower petals that are under his feet.

"Bullshit," Linda says, grinning at Gerard's shocked look. "Bringing someone up is more than practicalities, it's about love, and I know Mikey's never lacked that from you."

"Uh," Gerard says, unsure what to say. Linda steps close, brushing a kiss against his cheek.

"Come over to my house for dinner some time, both of you."

"We will," Bob says, and closes the door when Linda gets inside and pulls away with a last wave. "I see Ray's not the only lady killer around here."

"What no." Gerard looks at Bob, and inside he's all mixed up. Missing his own mom and clinging onto the knowledge that someone thinks he hasn't fucked things up. "She's nice."

"She is," Bob agrees, and he stands close as Gerard breathes in deep, listening to the soft sound of music and feeling the late summer breeze against his skin. It's full of the scent of flowers, full of life -- Gerard's missed it.

~*~*~*~

Bob wakes and stretches, easing the kinks out of his back. The blankets have fallen on the floor during the night and he reaches down, hauling them onto the bed in a messy heap. Knees bent, he scratches at his head and pushes his hair out of his eyes -- it's well overdue for a cut and he's tempted to just shave it off, but so far has resisted the urge.

The clock on his bedside table says five after eight and as it's his day off he considers burrowing under the covers for more sleep as a matter of principle. Instead he stands, drawn out of bed by the brilliant sunshine that floods the room, he wanders into the living room, where Brian's sitting on the sofa, nested in a pile of blankets, watching the TV that's turned low, while eating cereal out of a blue plastic bowl.

"You're up early," Bob says, thankful there's over half a pot of fresh coffee. Filling a mug he pushes aside the remote and settles on the couch next to Brian.

"I've got an interview." Brian spoons cereal into his mouth, scooping up the remaining floating marshmallows. "One of the leads Mikey gave me."

"Anything good?"

"Entry level management, piss-poor pay and benefits, but it's a start." Brian lifts the bowl, drinking the remaining milk. He sounds indifferent but Bob knows him enough to see the gleam of anticipation, it's something that's been missing since Brian arrived, and Bob can't help hope the job works out.

"Do you need to borrow some clothes?" It's a valid question because Brian's been alternating the same two outfits for weeks, and Bob can't see an interview going well if Brian turns up in holed-jeans and a t-shirt that's covered in grass stains.

Brian grins. "Sure, I'll turn up like a kid wearing his dad's plaid shirt."

"I haven't just got plaid shirts," Bob says with dignity, and he hasn't, he's got a white one in his closet he's sure.

"It's okay." Brian stretches out his legs and digs his toes into Bob's thigh. "We went shopping after we left you last night. I've a sweet interview outfit."

"I wondered where you'd took off to," Bob says, batting at Brian's feet.

Brian digs his toes in even harder. "Unlike some people I don't spend hours just staring at Gerard."

Bob scowls and nips Brian's big toe. "I don't spent hours staring at Gerard."

"You kind of do," Brian says. "It's fucking sickening, like watching the big gay Romeo and Juliet set to a backdrop of despair, coffee and manure."

Bob stares. "Does that even make sense in your mind?"

"Don't even front." Brian pulls back his foot, bending his knee so he can rub at his big toe. "You watch him, he stares at you and all the while a huge black cloud of fucking tragedy and denial hovers over you both."

"Seriously, are you even listening to what's coming out of your mouth?" Bob says and sits back so he can scowl in comfort. "He's an attractive man, I can stare at him without it meaning anything. And even if it did, which is doesn't, this is the wrong time for a relationship."

"Jesus Christ," Brian says, looking pained. "I know you've got the whole protective shtick going on, but think of yourself for once. There's never going to be a right time, you know that. Gerard's fucked in the head, but so's everyone else."

"So that's your big advice," Bob says. "We're all fucked so we might as well be fucked together."

Brian points his spoon at Bob. "Exactly."

~~~~

As advice goes, it's actually not that bad and Bob can't help thinking of what Brian said as he makes his way to Gerard's. In a fit of madness he'd decided to walk and he's feeling hot and sticky when he finally arrives. Bob wipes at his forehead as he stands and looks into the garden.

In the full light of day the magic has faded, but remnants remain in the burnt-out candles and two empty glasses sitting flush together on the table. There's a white shirt lying crumpled on the grass and Bob tries not to think why it's there, just averts his eyes and perfunctory knocks at the door before going inside.

"Hey." Frank waves from where he's sitting at the table, shirtless and holding a pop-tart, a bite taken out of one corner. "Everyone's asleep but me." He waves the pop-tart and a stream of red filling trickles towards his fingers. "I needed the energy."

"I don't care," Bob says, and steps forward, snatching the pop-tart out of Frank's hand. Bob takes a bite. "You don't have sex."

Frank grins wide, looking so satisfied that Bob wants to hit him just because. "Oh but I do, lot's of sex. Lots of glorious, amazing, long-lasting sex."

Bob throws the pop-tart, and Frank catches it in mid-air, crumbs falling to the ground. "I'm going to see Gerard."

"And I'm going to see Mikey," Frank says, cramming the remainder of the pop-tart in his mouth. He chews and swallows. "If you hear any thuds don't come looking."

"Believe me, I won't," Bob says, and he goes to the basement before he has to see if Frank's completely naked.

It's stuffy down there, and smells of what Bob's come to think of as Gerard, a mixture of dirty clothes and body odor and Bob knows it should be gross, but instead it's comforting somehow. A thought that makes him stop on the bottom stair, because Jesus fuck, when did Bob get so lame? He wants to bash his head against the nearest wall.

Giving himself a minute to actually admit to himself he feels this way -- because sure, he's always thought Gerard was attractive, and they're good friends and Bob spends most of his spare time at the Way's, but that was as far as it went -- Bob thumps down, sitting on the step and tries to push the feeling back where it belongs, but it's impossible, and Bob knows Brian's right; Bob's been fooling himself, and there never will be a right time.

It's a hard truth to take in. Bob's spent over a year watching Gerard fight to keep living, and despite his history, he admits to himself there's a part of him that's been waiting for Gerard to get well before even thinking of making a move. Bob groans and rests his head in his hands, frustrated at being such an idiot, and he knows it's as much his issues shining through as Gerard's. Bob stands, needing to see Gerard.

Stepping over an upturned box and a collapsed pile of folded laundry, Bob feels like some kind of pervert as he approaches Gerard's bed, but he can't seem to look away. Gerard's lying on his side, his hand tucked under his cheek and his hair is tangled over his face so all that's visible is his parted mouth. The covers have slid down at the side showing Gerard's wearing yesterday's clothes but his feet are bare and Bob notices that each toe nail has been painted a different color. Bob allows himself a moment to think that's adorable before sitting at the bottom of the bed.

"Gerard. Gerard." Bob tickles Gerard's foot, running his fingers along the instep. Gerard doesn't move, just mumbles sleepily before pulling his foot away. Bob grabs hold of the blankets and tugs. "Gerard. Wake up."

"Whu, what?" Blinking hard, Gerard sits up in bed, peering at Bob as if he's got no clue who he is and what he's doing. He probably doesn't, and Bob would feel guilty except Gerard scrubs at his eyes with the back of his hands and then smiles. "Bob, hi."

"I'm going to make breakfast," Bob says. It's not what he'd planned when he set off but it seems the right thing to do, especially when Gerard's just there and all Bob wants to do is touch. It's like now he's admitted how he feels every urge and compulsion he's kept hidden is straining to get free, and Bob clenches his hands together, knowing this isn't the time.

"You don't have to do that," Gerard says, scratching at his neck and exposing the damp patches under his arms.

"I know," Bob says. "I'm going to make pancakes, if you go get showered now they'll be ready when you come out."

Gerard pushes his hair out of his face. "Are you saying I stink?"

"I'm saying you've time to get showered," Bob says, and pushes himself up, looking down at Gerard. "I'll throw in chocolate chips."

Gerard doesn't move, just stares at Bob. "And now bribes with chocolate."

"Is it working?" Bob asks.

"Maybe," Gerard says, and rolls onto his side and off of the bed.

Bob doesn't stay to watch. Gerard will either shower or he won't, Bob's not his care-taker and he's not about to start issuing orders, but he can't help feeling pleased when he's near the top of the stairs and hears the sound of footsteps and then water.

"Did you stay over?"

Hand against his chest, Bob's glad he wasn't on the top of the stairs when Mikey spoke, otherwise he'd have plummeted right back to the bottom. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Mikey raises an eyebrow and goes back to watching coffee drip into the jug. "I live here."

"You're never up this early when you're not at work," Bob says, his heart slowing to a more regular rhythm. "I thought you'd be holed up with Frank."

"Frank's in the shower." Mikey reaches up to get a mug out of the cupboard and his t-shirt rides up, exposing the line of small bruises along one hip. "He got jizz in his hair."

"Don't tell me shit like that," Bob says, physically pained. "Just don't."

"Okay," Mikey says, and fills his mug with coffee, drinking half before filling it again and lounging against the counter and staring at Bob like some skinny, tousled-haired, razor-eyed freak. "So, did you?"

Head in the fridge, cold rolls past Bob's shoulders as he checks the milk, ensuring it's still in date. "Did I what?"

"Stay over," Mikey says, making it sound like Bob's some kind of forgetful idiot.

"No, I went home," Bob says, and shuts the fridge door before crouching to get the bowl so he can make batter. It's not in the usual place, and he pushes aside pans until he finds it shoved right at the back of the cupboard. "I came back to help clean up the garden, Ray and Brian are coming over later."

Mikey nods, attention on his coffee, then says, "You should have just stayed, we've room upstairs."

"Shared the same floor as you two last night, I don't think so," Bob says, cracking an egg into the bowl.

"You could have slept with Gee, he wouldn't have minded," Mikey says, and Bob fumbles the egg he's just picked up, so it falls, cracking against the floor.

"Great." Bob grabs a towel and kneels, trying to mop up the mess.

"I'm going back up," Mikey says, and Bob sees his bare feet as he walks past, heading for the stairs. "Keep us some pancakes."

"If I remember." Dropping the towel in the sink, Bob quickly makes a batch of batter, adding nearly a full packet of chocolate-chips, leftovers from Ray's manic shopping spree the week before. Ensuring the pan is hot, he ladles out the first pancake, watching as the batter fills the pan and starts to bubble. When it looks solid, Bob slides a spatula underneath and flips, humming under his breath. Cooking is something he enjoys but doesn't tend to do very often, and it feels good standing at the stove, repetitively making pancakes until he's used up half the batch of batter. Picking up the pancake laden plate, he sets it on the table.

About to yell that breakfast is ready, he stops when he hears Gerard come upstairs. He's got a towel around his neck and is wearing a ratty robe that comes to mid-thigh and Bob tries not to look down, but it's hard because Gerard never shows off his legs, and Bob can't help noticing the curve of his calves and how there's a bruise on one shin.

"Mikey kicked me," Gerard says, looking down too. "He's vicious. Like a sloth, all quiet and sleepy until they attack."

Bob picks up four plates and a handful of cutlery, setting them all on the table. "Are sloths even vicious? Don't they just hang there?"

Gerard sits, chewing on the side of his lip. "They could be vampire sloths, they'd be vicious."

"Of course," Bob says, grabbing the syrup before sitting. "Vampire sloths."

"Vampire sloths," Gerard agrees. He looks at the clock on the wall then reaches for a plate and fork, stabbing a pancake. "I'm not usually up this early."

"Sucks to be you," Bob says, and slides a pancake onto his plate. Cutting it in two, he eats one half as he watches Gerard make a face on his pancake with syrup -- a face complete with fangs and Bob has to concentrate on chewing before he does something stupid like just beam.

"Are Ray and Brian coming over later?" Gerard says, busy adding drops of syrup blood.

"Sometime this morning, Brian's got an interview first," Bob says, remembering how Brian looked in his new clothes, pacing and chain smoking until Ray arrived to give him a lift. It'll be the second time Brian's re-started his life, and Bob admires him for the ability of never giving up and fighting for his place in the world, no matter what the odds on success. It's why Bob swallows, says, "After breakfast, do you want to go out? Maybe get some coffee."

Gerard slices his pancake with his knife, slashing at the syrup face and Bob's sure he's going to say no. He doesn't, instead he hesitates, his knife and fork against the plate and eventually says, "I guess. We can go after Mikey and Frank have eaten."

Bob scoops more pancake into his mouth and chews furiously, says, "Fine."

~*~*~*~

"What did Bob say? Exactly."

Gerard looks across at the other tables, each one full of people who're paying him no attention at all. He still feels exposed, like there's something about him that says pathetic, and Gerard's thankful Mikey's sat opposite, shielding him from view. "He asked if we wanted to get coffee."

"Really?" Mikey says, looking unconvinced, because he looked weird when you said he'd asked us along."

"He looked weird because Frank was half-naked," Gerard says.

Mikey rolls his eye. "Frank's always half-naked."

"Not in our kitchen," Gerard protests, pushing aside memories where Frank has been half-naked in their house; which is a lot. He closes his eyes, trying to remember Bob's exact words. "He said, after breakfast, do you want to go out. See, that's.... oh."

"You're a moron," Mikey says fondly. "I can't believe you've got Frank and me crashing your date."

"It's not a date." That's something Gerard does know, and he looks into the coffee shop, where Bob's standing at the counter, patiently listening as Frank talks about something that involves a lot of hand waving. As if he can feel Gerard staring, Bob looks over and smiles. Gerard can't help smiling back.

"Would you want it to be?" Mikey's looking from Bob to Gerard, his brows pulled together.

Gerard runs his finger over the woven metal top of the table and considers playing dumb, but Mikey's looking at him, waiting for an answer. "I like Bob, a lot. He's a good friend, and hot, and I like him being around. But...."

"But," Mikey prompts.

"But I haven't dated in years, you know that. " Gerard watches as Bob gets Frank in a head-lock, keeping him jammed between his side and arm as they slowly make their way along the line. "I don't know if I can date. On my best days I can leave the house, on my worst I can't get out of bed."

Mikey flattens his hand against the table top, his middle finger against Gerard's. "Your best days are getting more frequent."

"Because I take a shit-load of drugs," Gerard says, and even if he does feel better now he knows he's still damaged. "I'm fucked in the head, have no prospect of a job and no money. "Who'd want that?"

"I would." Mikey spider-walks his fingers over Gerard's hand, holding it down. "You're hot, awesome, and if you weren't my brother I'd have you in an instant."

"I think Frank would have something to say about," Gerard says, and adds his free hand on top of Mikey's.

"He is kind of scrappy," Mikey says, turning his head when Bob and Frank push their way out of the coffee shop and make their way through the tables. When they get close Mikey levels a look at Frank. "Would you protest if I dated Gerard?"

Frank sets down two large paper cups of coffee and perches on a nearby table, looking thoughtful. "It depends, are we talking threesome here or does he get you all to himself?"

"Threesomes are too complicated," Mikey says, and grabs a coffee, taking a long drink.

"In that case, fuck yes I'd protest," Frank says.

Mikey smiles slightly, says, "Good." He stands then, pulling his hand from between Gerard's. "We need to go for a walk."

"We do?" Frank asks, and at Mikey's complicated series of facial ticks, picks up his drink. "We do."

"I'll see you back at the house," Mikey says, and wanders away with Frank, their heads together as they talk.

Bob sits in Mikey's empty seat, pushing over a drink to Gerard. "What the hell was all that about?"

"It's Mikey," Gerard says, and while normally that would be enough of an answer, he knows he's left things unsaid and they niggle as he takes a sip of his drink. While he does so he's looking at Bob, seeing how the sun makes his hair gleam and how his nose is slightly red. He's just, Bob and having him here makes Gerard feel safe, but it's more than that, it's multiple emotions that come down to -- Gerard never wants to let Bob go. Gathering courage, Gerard puts down his drink. "Was this supposed to be a date?"

"If a date means I want to be alone with you...." Bob hesitates a moment, says, "Yeah."

"Right," Gerard says, wishing he could smoke, or do something with his hands, anything but sit here and cradle his drink while Bob looks at him like he's something special, because Gerard's not special. He's fucking terrified, at continuing to live his life, at the thought of letting Bob even closer, into a space where only Mikey's been for so long. "I don't get it. I'm not, I mean, I'm just me."

"Exactly," Bob says gruffly, as if it explains everything.

Gerard sips at his drink. It doesn't at all.

Next

Comments

[turlough]

"Make that mental," Gerard says, and it feels good to laugh so freely, actually enjoying the world instead of fighting through every minute of the day. Mouth aching from smiling, Gerard settles back down, Mikey following, fitting together as always.

A little moment of happiness!

"Frank's mom came while you were gone, she hugged me." & "The first time we met she hugged and copped a feel."

*giggles* *giggles again* I think I like Frank's mom.

"I wasn't," Gerard says, and he's chewing on the side of his mouth as he holds out the roll of paper. "But I had to try."

Oh Gerard! Of course he had to try for Mikey.

"You're strong and good, Bob's my protector, Mikey my heart and Frank's like a wildflower, fierce and true." Gerard moves his hand, pointing at the drawing of Brian. "Being at the back doesn't mean you're less, it means you're trusted."

This made me smile so much. It's so beautiful and true.

Gerard never asks, just hopes that he does. He always feels better when Bob is around, even if they're just sitting watching TV.

Awwwwww!

"Getting there," Gerard says truthfully, therapy sessions and medication ensuring most days he wakes up and can actually get out of bed.

Yeah, this whole scene really makes it clear how much better Gerard is right now, and he did manage to draw something for the decoration!

"They're so sweet my teeth are aching," Bob says

I totally agree with Bob :-D

he stands close as Gerard breathes in deep, listening to the soft sound of music and feeling the late summer breeze against his skin. It's full of the scent of flowers, full of life -- Gerard's missed it.

Lovely!

"You watch him, he stares at you and all the while a huge black cloud of fucking tragedy and denial hovers over you both."

*snerk* Brian's got a wonderful way with words!

"I know you've got the whole protective shtick going on, but think of yourself for once. There's never going to be a right time, you know that. Gerard's fucked in the head, but so's everyone else."

And he's very perceptive! If Bob's waiting for some mythical future date when Gerard is "well" he's going to have to wait forever.

Bob knows Brian's right; Bob's been fooling himself, and there never will be a right time.

Well, at least he's realised it finally.

Gerard make a face on his pancake with syrup -- a face complete with fangs and Bob has to concentrate on chewing before he does something stupid like just beam.

That's alright Bob, I'm beaming for you :-)

He's fucking terrified, at continuing to live his life, at the thought of letting Bob even closer, into a space where only Mikey's been for so long.

Yeah, deciding to let Bob closer is probably too big a decision for Gerard to make yet, but he's at least thinking about it!

[turps33.livejournal.com]

A little moment of happiness!

I love them so much. No surprise I know.

*giggles* *giggles again* I think I like Frank's mom.

I know nothing about her in real life, but I figured with a son like Frank there must have been laughter in their house.

This made me smile so much. It's so beautiful and true.

This was one of the scenes I wish I had any drawing ability, because I can see that poster so easily in my mind.

I totally agree with Bob :-D

I never denied writing a schmoopy self-indulgent Frank/Mikey scene *g*

*snerk* Brian's got a wonderful way with words!

He was so fun to write!

Well, at least he's realised it finally.

It's Bob's D'oh! moment, and what a place to have it.

Yeah, deciding to let Bob closer is probably too big a decision for Gerard to make yet, but he's at least thinking about it!

He is! He's making big steps.

[skeletonpajamas.livejournal.com]

I'm in love with your mind. I truly am. You amaze me, and, oh god, I wish I could finish this right now but it's 4 in the morning and I have to sleeeeeeep and oh my geez, I really do love you thank you for writing and kindly overlooking my aversion of periods up until this point.

[turps33.livejournal.com]

You're very welcome, and I hope you managed to get some good sleep.

Thank you for staying awake as long as you did reading, and for such a gratifying comment.