My Chemical Romance Fanfiction

Fic: Untitled Frank/Gerard

Frerard, smut, 2,500 words
By: giddy_london

It’s almost two in the morning by the time Frank drags himself up the three flights of stairs to his apartment, Gerard following behind him. Frank hears Mama’s impatient snuffling as he unlocks the door and she sneaks out into the hallway, stepping on his toes in her haste to get to Gerard, who bends down to pick her up. Gerard buries his face in her neck and makes a pleased noise, and Frank thinks he tells her that he’s missed her. He smiles to himself and takes her leash from the hook next to the door. 

“I’ll take her for her walk,” Gerard volunteers, glancing at Frank and trying to nuzzle Mama’s ears at the same time. 

“You don’t have to,” Frank tells him, clipping the leash to her pink leather collar. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

“I know I don’t have to,” says Gerard. “I want to.” He scratches under her chin. “I can do it. I won’t lose her, Frank. You wanted to take a shower anyway.”

“I was going to try and talk you into the showerwith me,” Frank admits. 

Gerard makes a face. 

“Fine,” he sighs, “you take her. I’m totally starting to think you like Mama better than me.” 

Gerard grins and turns back toward the stairs. “I like you both, Frank,” he says earnestly, and disappears with the dog. 

Frank shakes his head and goes into his apartment, nudging the door closed, careful to make sure that it doesn’t latch and lock Gerard out. He leaves his keys and skeleton gloves and coat in a pile on the table and pushes the button on the answering machine. There is a message from his mother (“Frank Anthony, I haven’t seen you in nearly three weeks”) inviting him over for Sunday dinner (“I’ll make eggplant parmigiana”) and asking about Gerard (“I want to meet him, baby, bring him home to dinner”), and one from Jamia (“Frank, you’re never home”) telling him about her date with some girl named Lindsey (“God, Frankie, she’s amazing”). Frank doesn’t erase the messages—maybe he’ll remember to call them back. He toes off his shoes and puts a pot of coffee on for Gerard despite the late hour. It’s Friday and neither of them has to wake up early the next morning—maybe it will convince him to stay the night. 

“Shower,” Frank murmurs to himself, and starts stripping off his clothes, leaving them in the ever-expanding pile in the corner. He pulls a hoodie from the foot of the mattress on the floor and chucks it into the pile as well. Mama’s been curled up in it, sleeping, for the past two days.

Frank starts the water in the tiny shower in his tiny bathroom. The tiles are cold on his bare feet. He thinks again about Gerard’s discomfort with being close to him after he’s finished a shift at work, figures there must be some reason that Gerard only orders coffee or a Coke or a Shirley Temple (seriously, what the hell?) when he comes into the bar, but Frank hasn’t asked yet. He just takes a shower if Gerard comes home with him after Brian closes up, and it’s not like he minds because he doesn’t exactly enjoy smelling simultaneously like a brewery and an ashtray. Frank is more curious about why Gerard will never shower with him, won’t so much as take off more than his shoes when he’s at Frank’s apartment. He knows Gerard likes him—the kissing is pretty fucking amazing and Frank doesn’t think Gerard’s got a volume of poetry stuck down the front of his pants—but he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get up to any sort of naked shenanigans. Frank’s trying to be patient, to be okay with it, because he really likes Gerard, but his dick and his right hand are far too well acquainted these days. 

And just thinking about Gerard and jerking off gets Frank hard. He tries to ignore it as he washes his hair, but he only gets harder as he starts soaping his chest, and finally Frank gives in. He braces himself with one hand against the pale green tile while the other reaches down to cup his balls, slides slick and wet along the length of his cock. Frank stands under the spray, tries to muffle the little noises he can’t help but make as he thinks of Gerard, and comes before he’s even found a good rhythm. He stays in the shower for another few minutes, just breathing, before finally shutting off the water and pulling a clean towel from the stack on the shelf next to the sink.