Urgent Phone Calls That Lead To Stupidity

16: Frank Is In Charge Of Helping People Spill Thier Guts

This is a gross chapter don't read if you don't like throw up. I mean. I don't think anyone does. But if you don't want to- whatever.

(pic is not mine)

TW: very detailed writing of Gerard Way throwing up on Frank Iero

Frank leaned back and put his hands behind his head, using them as a pillow. It was the most comfortable position he had been in since leaving the hospital. Sitting in a wheelchair for hours really wasn't any more comfortable than laying in a itchy hospital bed. The short man smirked, looking at Gerard. "This is just like old times. You and me flying on a plane together." He said. Gerard smiled at him. "Yeah. You better not try to make out with me again though." He giggled. Frank blushed at the memory. He wasn't going to make the mistake of kissing Gerard while he was plane sick. 

"It was kind of your fault though. You're the one who threw up on me." Frank laughed, looking at the older man. Gerard nodded in agreement but didn't speak. He had suddenly gone very quiet. He also looked quite pale now. Well, more pale than usual, even when he had makeup on. The short man continued to talk until he noticed Gerard bending forward.

"You okay?" Frank asked, concern evident in his voice. Gerard nodded slowly. He leaned forward a bit, his eyes widening. That was when it hit Frank; the older man needed to puke. He sighed, grabbing an airplane throw up bag and positioning it in front of his friend's head. "You're such high maintenance." He sighed jokingly. Gerard almost laughed. But then vomit started to spill out of his mouth and into the bag. The disgusting sounds echoing through the plane.

Frank cringed when some of it dripped onto his fingers. He didn't pull away though. He was used to the feeling of someone puking on his hands, as gross as that might sound. This was always his job; helping Gerard vomit. He was always the one to help him when they were on tour, the rest of their band members being too busy partying.

"I'll get better. I promise." He said, laughing bitterly. Frank was tired of this. That was what Gerard always said. But this had been going on for months. He needed to act now instead of promising things that he couldn't do.

"Fuck." He choked out, pulling away from Frank's arms and crouching down in the bushes, well more like falling over. Gerard's loud retches were heard and soon the sound of vomit hitting the concrete was heard. "You throwing up Gerard?" The camera man asked with a laugh. Frank frowned, walking closer to Gerard and patting his back. "It's okay buddy." He said, trying to calm him down.

"This is no time to be filming." Frank said sternly, turning to face the camera man and glaring at him. "Turn that shit off." The short man lifted Gerard up to his feet and helped him start walking. "Let's get to the tour bus, baby boy." He mumbled, kissing Gerard on the cheek.

"F-Frankie... I'm done..." Gerard whined, still leaning forward. He was still extremely pale and not looking very happy. He put his face in his hands and let out a loud sigh. Frank nodded, grabbing the throw up bag and putting it away. He wiped some of the throw up that ended up on his hand in his sweatshirt. 

"Gee?" Gerard looked up at him, not moving. "Are you okay now or do you need to puke again?" Gerard shook his head. Frank sighed. He pushed the armrest up and pulled the other man into him, so he was resting on his chest. "If you need to throw up again then tell me. I don't want my only good hoodie getting dirty." Gerard hummed in agreement, wrapping his arm around Frank's small body. 

                                                                                                    ~

"Wake up, daddy!" Gerard cuddled into his pillow. "Shut up, Frank!" He whined. He was tired from puking for hours. Couldn't he get just a bit of sleep. "Daddy? Wake up the plane is going to landed in a second!" The man groaned, opening his eyes and noticing that his pillow was in fact not a pillow and Frank Iero's lap. He blushed, sitting up and trying to compose himself at least a little bit.

"Yeah, daddy." Frank said, looking up at the flustered man. He had a suggestive look on his face, as he nudged Gerard with his elbow. The older man glared at him, gesturing to Bandit, who was tilting her head in confusion. "Why are you calling my daddy 'daddy'? Are you his kid too?" She asked, putting her tiny hands on her hips. Frank's face was red from trying to keep his laughter in.

Gerard crossed his arms and huffed. "He was just joking, B." He said, kicking Frank's short leg a bit too harshly. "Now get back in your seat because we're going to land, right?" The child surprisingly listed to her father's command and jumped up into her seat. Gerard smiled happily. But the smile was whipped right off his face when the plane started descending.

He felt his stomach flip or jump, whatever it was the feeling was very uncomfortable. When the plane did it again he was thrown slightly around his seat. Gerard grabbed the closest thing next to him. Which with his luck happened to be Frank's hand. He squeezed it tightly, trying to find something to comfort him.

Frank turned to him with a reassuring grin. He squeezed Gerard's hand back. "It's ok." He said calmly, brushing a strand of hair behind the older man's ear. Gerard blushed, looking forward, trying not to puke. 

He looked at the man next to him with wide eyes. "Frank, I think I need to-" Gerard was interrupted by the sound of him spilling his guts all over Frank's legs. He was about to apologize when another wave of sickness came over him. This was so embarrassing. The worst part was that Frank didn't even flinch.

He looked up at the man with guilty eyes. "Sorry I-" Frank sighed, looking down at the piece of clothing he didn't want to ruin. Instead of complaining about the disgusting substance on his body, or trying to get it off, he looked at Gerard. "Are you okay now? We're about to-" He stopped talking and lifted up the older man's face by placing his fingers on his chin. "You're not even looking at me. Look at me." 

Gerard swallowed hard, not moving. He looked at the ground. "We're about to land so just calm down. I can get cleaned up then." Frank said sweetly, caressing Gerard's cheek. Why was he being so nice to him? He didn't deserve that. He just threw up on this man and he was making sure Gerard was comfortable? What the fuck?

He pulled away abruptly, almost giving himself a whiplash. He blushed, running his hand through his long brown hair, a nervous habit he had started all the way back when they were making Bullets. "I-I'm sorry. I just- I can't... couldn't hold it?" He mumbled; it sounded like a question more than a statement. Gerard facepalmed, bringing his knees up to his body. But then the plane shook.

"We're not going to crash. We're not going to crash. We're not going to crash." He kept repeating underneath his breath. He felt Frank grab his hand and run his thumb over the back of it. "It's going to be okay." The short man told him. That was when he believed it.