Title: If You Want Me, Satisfy Me. Part One/?
Bandom: My Chemical Romance
Pairing(s): Frank/Gerard, Frank/Jamia, Gerard/Lyn-Z(Later)
Rating: NC-17 later on, pretty much PG-13 for this one!
Disclaimer: Oh yeah, totes, they're mine, said no one EVER.
Summary: How it started, how it ends.
Authors Note: Basically, my take on how Frerard begins and progresses. I am not following the canon with this. There WILL be a few details that don't match up with how things were /are in real life. That's why it's called fiction. Anyways, please read, review, critique, whatevers. I look forward to it!:D
It starts with a kiss, the kind of kiss that you have always ached for. The moon shone, the stars twinkled and your heart swells and swells until you struggle for breath and pull away, ducking your head shyly and biting your swollen lips gently.
(Fireworks! BAM! BAM! POW!)
He giggles loudly, that deliciously feminine giggle that makes your stomach flip so fucking hard.
(You'd been making those noises aloud.)
"Aw, shit man! I'm so fucking wasted." He mutters, resting his forehead against your shoulder.
He giggles again and wraps his arms around your waist. You could feel his smile against your neck as you nose your way through his hair. He's warm and soft and real.
(Too much, it's too much.)
"You smell awesome." You whisper before planting a chaste kiss on the top of his head.
You are contented. Your toes are curling with delight and if you were a cat, you would purr the shit out of this moment.
"Liar." He chuckles. "Jamia hates the pot smell. It's rank, man."
(The bubble bursts and it fucking hurts.)
"Uh huh." Is all you manage before pushing him away gently. "We're so baked."
(You're not. And you don't want to let go. You want to stay here forever.)
Frank giggles again and slips his hand into yours, beaming up at you.
"I love you, man. You're my best fucking friend!" he exclaims happily.
(Friends. Nice.)
"Love you too." You say softly, too softly and for a brief moment you swear you can see the fog lift in Franks eyes.
(Say it.)
"Smores! Oh my God, we totally haven't made smores in so fucking long!" he shouts, pulling out of your grip and running up the basement steps, calling for Mikey, Ray and Matt.
(He's running away. And you are pathetic. So you follow.)
Fuck.
-.-.-
Jamia.
She's pretty and funny and tiny and so freaking cute. And she helps you make band-tees and Frankie looks so fucking proud and happy and in love that you can't help but want to hate her.
(You don't though, that's not fair.)
She chats away, just like he does, and when she smiles, she fucking beams and she's so like him that you want to scream. She's good at art too and she's got fucking awesome ideas and you feel terrible and sick.
(And jealous.)
"And like when you guys leave Jersey, you're basically gonna be nobodies, you know? So we need to make these totally fucking rad so that people will talk, you know?" she gushes, her big, brown eyes bright with excitement.
Frank nods vigorously whilst you watch on miserably.
"Uh huh! Like, create a fucking buzz!"
She laughs and beams again.
"Exactly baby!"
And you have to look away, because it fucking hurts to watch the way he smiles at her.
(And you kissed those lips, you tasted him.)
"Gee! Oh my God, that tee is so fucking awesome!"
Franks declaration jolts you out of your stupor and makes you grin at him, a tiny smile and a shrug.
"Thanks, man."
"Can I wear that one?" he asks, pulling his best puppy dog eyes and you can't resist.
(You can't resist anyway.)
"Uh huh, if you like." You mumble shyly and she's watching you, her eyes bright and sharp.
"So. What's he like to kiss?" she asks boldly, bumping shoulders with Frank and grinning teasingly.
Frank giggles loudly and drapes an arm around her shoulder.
"Oh man, I can't even remember. Wet, I suppose?" he teases, offering you a wink.
You're burning up.
(He doesn't remember. You fucking committed it to memory and he doesn't fucking care.)
"Y-you told her?" You blurt out, your eyes wide and staring.
She's smiling at you with a genuinely understanding look on her face.
"Yeah, 's cool, dude! Jams knows she's my girl." Frank announces.
It shouldn't hurt as much as it does. But it's agony.
(Like they're punching your heart, stomping and stamping all over it.)
"Cool." You say softly before pushing away from the table and walking blindly out of the kitchen.
You walk past your mom and Mikey and Matt and drag yourself down your basement steps. You throw yourself on your musty bed and pull a pillow over your face.
(It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.)
-.-.-
The longer you tour with Bullets, the more you realize how incredibly lonely you are. You begin to miss your basement and the safety and comfort of Jersey. The van is tight and compact and there are no personal boundaries whatsoever and that bothers you.
(Because you're fat and disgusting and you can't understand why Mikey and Frank cuddle up against you night after night.)
Body warmth, maybe? You've enough insulation to heat the entire van.
"Cheetos or Doritos?" Mikey demands, elbowing your soft stomach with his incredibly bony elbow.
You suck in your stomach self-consciously and shrug.
"Whatever you want, I'm not really hungry."
Which is such a total lie. You can't remember the last time you ate. All you've done is pop pills and drink.
(Rock'n'Roll, baby.)
"Cheetos." Frank declares from your other side.
He's pressed up against the door of the van, his tiny body folded up neatly. His head is resting on your shoulder and you're leaning into him as much as you possibly can because it's fucking Frank. He practically screams "CUDDLE ME!"
"Yeah. Cheetos, man." You decide.
Mikey suppresses an eye-roll and climbs out of the van with Matt and Ray following him quickly. You stretch out your arms and moan loudly, the relieving of the tension feeling fucking awesome.
"So hot." Frank giggles, stretching out his own legs across your lap.
You nod.
"Uh huh. Matt told me that the air-con is fucked… so yeah… I'm sweating buckets here."
Frank laughs loudly and shakes his head.
"I meant your moan, you turd! And secondly, gross! I think you and Mikey have some kind of glandular problem or some shit like that. No human sweats that much!"
You blush and try to ignore your fluttering heartbeat.
(He surely knows what he does to you? He must know. Subtle isn't exactly your middle name.)
Frank wriggles around in his seat until he has managed to climb across your lap, his crotch dangerously close to yours and he's smiling that brilliant fucking smile of his and you want to lick his teeth and suck his tongue.
(You want to fuck him until you see stars, until he screams for it.)
"You've really pretty eyes." You say softly 'cause it's true.
Franks smile softens and he leans closer until your noses are nearly touching.
"I wanna kiss you and remember it. Can I kiss you?" he whispers.
You nod slowly, not quite believing your ears. He moves in and pressed your lips together and you feel like Frank is gonna be the death of you. You want to moan, you want to wrap your arms around him and pull him flush against your chest and grind until-
"I knew it! Soft as a fucking baby's bottom!" Frank exclaims as he pulls away, his eyes shining brightly.
You quirk an eyebrow and try to look cool even though you can feel your cheeks burning and you're silently praying that Frank doesn't move forward an inch.
(BONER! BONER! BONER!)
"You must fucking moisturise. Your lips are softer than a girls!" Frank giggles as he slides off your lap and curls back into his ball by your side, whipping out his phone and texting someone.
Jamia. He's probably texting her and laughing at you.
You cross your legs and stare straight ahead, willing your blush to just piss off and take your fucking boner with it.
"Just drink lots of fluids." You mumble, mortified by your bodies betrayal.
Frank laughs and then quietens down abruptly. You glance over at him and see that he's staring at your crotch.
"Frank, I-" You start to gush but he quickly cuts across you.
"Dude… Are you…hard?" he practically squeals.
(Death. The first person to die from humiliation.)
You desperately cross your legs even tighter but your chubby fucking thighs are making that near impossible. You think you could possibly pass out from embarrassment.
Frank laughs and laughs and keeps fucking cackling until Ray hops back into the van and gives you a funny look.
"Gerard? Are you having an aneurysm or something? You're gone all red." he asks sounding genuinely worried.
That's when Frank stops cackling and begins to shriek with hysteria.
-.-.-
You've drunk too much. You know this. Your head is spinning, your vision is blurred and your stomach is churning. But you raise the beer bottle to your lips once again and take a slug.
(Because it's easier. Because soon enough, you'll just pass out and you won't remember a thing.)
You're in the van. Mikey is snoring in the front, huddled up against Worm and Ray. Matt is outside talking to some chicks and you and Frankie are sitting at the door, drinking and smoking. Frank is pressed snugly against your side and he's texting and you know its Jamia because he's smiling at his screen and giggling quietly every now and then.
(And you want to make him giggle. You want to think of something clever to say that'll make him forget all about her and her cuteness.)
"Grave-yard." You blurt out.
Frank looks up at you, a small smile spreading across his lips.
"Huh?" he says slowly and he's been drinking too but he's nowhere near as far gone as you.
"There's a graveyard over there. Let's go!" You announce, jumping to your feet and only swaying slightly.
(Gerard: One. Alcohol: Zero.)
Frank giggles loudly and drains his can of beer.
"Fuck yeah!" he exclaims excitedly.
You walk/stagger past Matt who raises a questioning eyebrow.
"Grave-yard." Frank explains with a wide, beaming smile.
One of the girls frowns and looks at Matt unsurely.
"Are they serious? That's fucking morbid!"
Matt shrugs and gives you a small wave.
"Scream if you need me."
You and Frank laugh and cross the deserted road in order to hop the slightly crumbling wall of the graveyard. Your vision is beginning to focus and your head spin less and less as you breathe in sweet, fresh, cool night air. Frank looks over at you, practically bouncing when he walks, still smiling.
"I fucking love grave-yards, man! They're so peaceful."
You nod and throw yourself onto the ground in order to lean against an old headstone.
(Your stomach is still churning in the worst way.)
Frank settles down beside you and curls himself into your side.
"Awesome show tonight, hm?" he mumbles, his chin resting on your shoulder.
You close your eyes and nod slowly.
"Best so far. You were great, Frankie. The kids love you."
(You love him.)
Frank chuckles and you can feel him shake your head.
"Nah, it's all you, Gee. You rock their world, man. You rock my world. You're fucking awesome onstage."
(Offstage you're a coward, afraid of everything and everyone.)
"I want to kiss you." Frank decides.
You shake your head weakly.
"No. You're gonna laugh at me again." You slur.
(You can't process all these meaningless kisses. You can't be that guy. The one who stores all of the seemingly perfect kisses into a little treasure chest of memories only to discover that it was all one-sided.)
"Dude, it was funny! You like, died. I couldn't contain myself." Frank giggles, climbing onto your lap.
"Why do you keep kissing me?" You demand, your drunken brain taking over the tiny part that was sobering up.
Frank shrugs.
"Just…messing around, I guess."
(Ouch.)
You let your head roll back until it's touching against the tombstone and Frank leans in until his mouth is hovering over yours.
"I thought you liked fooling around?" he urges softly, his breath hot.
You find yourself nodding without your permission.
"Love it." You breathe and Frank leaves out a soft moan before crashing his mouth against yours.
And suddenly, it's different. This feels urgent. It feels urgent when Frank forces his tongue into your mouth and invades your space as he hands find their way under your shirt and you're usually so conscious about your rolls hideous fat but when Frank starts to rub them you just press yourself against him as hard as you can. You slide your hands up his taut thighs and kiss Frankie back as best you can because maybe, maybe you can make him forget about her, just for a few-
Shit.
You vomit. All over you, all over Frank and then your body decides to heave some more.
(Why must your body betray you at every given opportunity?)
Turns out Frank's a sympathetic-spewer. He rolls off of you, crouches down and proceeds to vomit his guts up while you make sounds that make you sound like the fucking Grudge.
"I'm so sorry." You whine as you roll onto your side to face Frank and his vomit.
Frank gives you a watery smile and shakes his head.
"It's cool, man. I'll just text Mikey and ask him to bring over some clothes."
When Mikey arrives he takes one look at you and purses his lips. Frank is over behind the church washing himself with baby wipes and you're still curled into a ball on the ground, clutching your stomach pathetically.
"I drank too much." You whisper.
"No shit." Mikey sighs, hunkering down beside you and beginning to wipe your face gently.
"He kissed me again." You giggle quietly.
Mikey scrubs at the ends of your hair and makes a disapproving sound.
"Don't go there, Gee." He warns softly.
(Too late.)
"I think I love him." You sigh happily.
Mikey looks at you sadly.
"I know."
-.-.-
The first time you over-dose, it's a complete and utter accident.
(Yes, you know, you know. You're a dick.)
You're not looking to hurt yourself. You just want to hit that buzz, to feel that warmth that hits you like liquid gold time after time again. Instead you feel a strangled, panicked feeling in the back of your throat before everything goes black.
(And peaceful. It's oh-so-peaceful.)
When you wake up you're hooked up to some machines and Mikey is asleep in a plastic chair beside you. Your throat burns and your head is spinning.
"You okay?"
You turn your head to the left and see Ray watching you unsurely. You nod slowly and clear your throat.
"What happened?" You gasp.
Ray shrugs and offers you a lop-sided smile.
"Dunno. We were kind of hoping you would tell us."
(You feel like the worlds biggest dick. It was an accident.)
You tell Ray this.
"You sure?" He asks so softly that you nearly don't hear him.
"Yes!" You snap vehemently.
"'Cause you were in a pretty bad way."
You frown and look at Ray incredulously.
"Whaddya mean?" You urge.
Ray raises an eyebrow and folds his arms across his chest.
"You don't remember?"
You shake your head quickly.
(Nothing. Everything's blank.)
Rays eyes widen before he reaches across and takes your hand in his.
"I'm gonna leave Mikes cover this. You'll thank me for it later."
-.-.-
Turns out you're kind of fucked up in the head. Whatevers.
-.-.-
You don't pop pills in front of the band anymore. Which is cool, you're down with that. You actually don't give a shit about what they think but Mikey had cried.
(He swore it was his allergies but that was such total bullshit that it kind of insulted your intelligence.)
So. Yeah. You 'don't' get high anymore and the guys turn a blind eye. S'all good.
Until Frankie starts making out with you after a show one night and you just think 'FUCK.'
(This will kill you before the drugs do.)
He's all hands and inappropriate moaning and you're fucking grinding against him like some hormone-crazed teen and he's grinding back and panting like he's just ran a freakin' marathon and then you both come and you know, you know that you've crossed some line in the friendship handbook.
(DO-NOT-COME-IN-YOUR-PANTS-WHEN-YOUR-BEST-FRIEND-IS-GRINDING-AGAINST-YOU-AND-MOANING-LIKE-A-PORN-STAR-OR-A-SEX-STARVED-HOUSEWIFE-LIKE-EVER.)
It's too late though and it doesn't take Frank too long to freak out.
(5…4…3…2…)
"Shit. Gee. Um. I gotta go!" He garbles before turning around and racing down the corridor at high speed.
(Bang on time!)
It should hurt more. It hurts. It's fucking agony but you realize with a jolt, you were expecting it. You knew he would run away.
(He always does.)
You push yourself off the wall and make your way towards the van, ignoring the mess in your trousers. You walk right up to Matt and hold out your hand.
"I know you've got some. Gimme some." You demand.
Matt does not disappoint and drops the two tabs into your hand.
"If Mikey asks, it wasn't me, asshole." He slurs and he's already high.
"Whatever." You grumble, throwing the tabs back and draining Matts beer-can.
Matt smirks and winks at you.
"Saw you and Frankie. Nice. Dunno how his girl will feel about it though."
"Fuck Frank and fuck Jamia. Fuck all of his shit and he's general fucked-upness." You declare passionately.
Mikey appears by your side during your proclamation and shakes his head before climbing into the van. Ray quickly follows and offers you a tight smile.
(They know you're high and they're not impressed.)
"Fuck all of you!" You growl before turning on your heel and making to march back inside the venue until you bump into Frank.
"Gee, we're going, come on." He says, avoiding your eyes completely.
"You wanted it Frank. You want it as much as I do." You slur, leaning in closer to the younger man.
And for the first time ever, Frank is not smiling.
"Gerard. We're going." He bites out, his eyes growing darker with rage as he realizes how high you are.
"I don't wanna go. I wanna stay here and I wanna fucking talk to you, face to fucking face. Motherfucker."
Frank grabs your upper arm tightly and glares up at you, his chin sticking out defiantly.
"I'm gonna say this because you won't remember this in the morning; you're a fucking mess. Open you're fucking eyes to what's going on around you. When you can talk to me sober, when you can make out with me without the aid of alcohol or whatever the fuck it is you're on, then you have the right to discuss this 'face to fucking face.' Until then, back the fuck up, get your ass in the van and pass out like you always fucking do." He snarls.
(You're too high for his words to register but somewhere in the back of your mind, there's a part of your brain screaming 'LISTEN.')
Something registers though and that's that Frank is fucking hot when he's angry.
-.-.-
Part one done!