Vampires Will Never Hurt You Frerard One-Shot

by xxthreecheersforsweetrevengexx

Gerard pushed his way in and Frank, relieved beyond belief, fell against Gerard's broad chest, hiccupping into his Iron Maiden t-shirt. Gerard pulled him close and rocked him back and forth. "You're okay, Frankie. You're okay. I've got you." Frank cried in earnest, curling his fingers in the fabric and inhaling the ginger and lemon smell of Gerard Way.

Vampires Will Never Hurt You

A Frerard One-Shot

Disclaimer: Frank Iero and Gerard Way are both married (not to each other) and have children. This fanfic is existent for the sole purpose of reader entertainment. All events in it are fictional. This story is in no way intended to disrespect Lyn-Z or Jamia, who are wonderful women.

Frank Iero hated the dark.

Well, he didn't hate the dark so much as he hated his fears of what was lurking in it. He knew that they weren't real. He knew that even though they weren't real, they were pretty fucking cool, and if they were real, he would SO be one. Hell, he couldn't tan, he liked his meat rare, and he was a total insomniac. But what scared him the most was that he was sure that they were evil.

Frank defined the desire to hurt others for no fucking reason evil. And he had felt that way before, he was ashamed to admit. But he had been pretty damn bitter, and he knew how it felt. And that's why he was so scared, against all rationality.

The power had gone out about ten minutes ago, but it seemed forever to Frank. He sat in the corner of the bathroom, the door locked, and gnawed his nails to the quick. The black nail polish left a bitter taste in his mouth.

His cell phone ringtone, the Ramones' I Wanna Be Sedated, blared, and being an American, he set aside his fears long enough to answer it. It was Gerard.

"Hey," Frank said weakly, holding the phone to his ear like a lifeline.

"Hey!" Gerard said back in a cheery manner that made Frank want to remove the red-haired man's reproductive organs very slowly and painfully. "Do you wanna come over? I have chocolate cake leftover from Mikey's party, a Misfits record, and a desire for blanket forts."

"Um…" Frank said. "I would love to." As soon as I can get my sorry ass out of my bathroom, make my hands stop trembling, and recover from several miniature heart attacks induced by the sound of my dishwasher.

Something must've given away the fact that Frank was not-o-fucking-kay, maybe, oh, he didn't know, the fact that he sounded like he had just been drawn and quartered, because Gerard said, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah!" Frank said brightly. "Of course!"

Frank could practically hear Gerard rolling his eyes over the phone. "My ass. I'll be right over."

"No!" Frank said. "I don't want you to see me like this!" But Gerard had already hung up. Frank buried his face in his knees and let silent tears streak down his cheeks.

Gerard only lived five minutes away, but to Frank it was hours before someone was rapping on the bathroom door. "Frankie?"

Of course that fucker let himself in without asking, Frank grumbled in his brain. Someday he's going to walk in and I'm going to be stark naked singing karaoke and writing Waycest fanfiction.

"Frank!" Gerard's voice was urgent. "Are you in there?"

"No," said Frank.

"Can you open the door?" Gee asked. "I mean, unless you're taking a shit or something."

Frank stifled a hysterical laugh and felt his heart sink into his Converse. The door was so far away… could he get that far without… being got himself?

"Frank!"

"Coming," Frank said with more incentive than he felt. You're gonna open that door, and Gerard's gonna be right there, and it's gonna be just fine. He stood up, and then cringed against the wall. "I…" he paused, embarrassed. "I'm scared." It came out barely a whisper.

Gerard used his steady voice, the one he always used before shows when he was nervous. "Okay, here's what I want you to do. I want you to take a step forward, okay?"

Frank took a tentative step. "Okay."

"Now take another one."

"'Kay."

"And another."

Frank was at the door now. He fearfully unlocked it. Gerard pushed his way in and Frank, relieved beyond belief, fell against Gerard's broad chest, hiccupping into his Iron Maiden t-shirt. Gerard pulled him close and rocked him back and forth. "You're okay, Frankie. You're okay. I've got you." Frank cried in earnest, curling his fingers in the fabric and inhaling the ginger and lemon smell of Gerard Way.

He broke away a moment later. "Sorry. No homo." Gerard knew that Frank was bi – he probably thought that he was being totally hit on.

"It's okay," Gerard said quietly, and pulled Frank back to him. He rubbed his back gently. "So what's going on exactly?"

"I…" Frank's cheeks burned. He was glad it was dark. "I'm afraid… of vampires. I mean, they're fucking awesome, and I would totally be one, and I know it's stupid… but I read Dracula when I was like eight, and I haven't slept well since."

Frank felt Gerard grin against his hair. "Does this have anything to do with Twilight?" he asked sternly. "A fear that Taylor Lautner will show up in your bedroom at three a.m.?"

Frank rolled his eyes. "Taylor Lautner is a werewolf, genius. And I really wouldn't mind if he showed up in my bedroom at any time."

Gerard laughed. "Well, sorry for getting that wrong, Mr. I-Know-Everything-About-Twilight."

The next ten minutes was an argument about who was more of a know-it-all, and then Gerard steered Frank out of the bathroom. "So do you have any flashlights?"

Frank slapped himself in the face, harder than he meant to. Gerard took his hand away from his face. Frank reddened as his hand came into contact with Gerard's cool, callused one. "Calm down the emo," Gerard ordered sternly.

Frank hung his head. "I have an armada of flashlights in my kitchen drawer for this purpose."

Gerard let go of Frank and headed for the kitchen before Frank could say anything. Frank stood with his back against the wall, eyes wide with anxiety, for the thirty seconds it took Gerard to return with a flashlight for each of them.

He tossed one to Frank, who caught it quickly, and, with a hand on the small of Frank's back, guided him towards the bedroom. "Wanna watch a movie or something?"

Frank's back tingled where Gerard's hand rested. "I dunno."

Gerard plopped down on Frank's bed, tossing his Doc Martens to the side and leaning against the headboard. "So how're things with LeATHERMØUTH?" His voice was tinged with sadness. Frank knew that Gerard had gone home, cried his eyes out, eaten about ten gallons of chocolate ice cream, and watched The Perks of Being a Wallflower over and over when MCR had released May Death Never Stop You. Frank knew how he felt. It was like a part of him had been cut off.

"It's okay," he said. "But…" he paused. "It's not My Chem, y'know?"

Gerard nodded, his hair bobbing up and down. "I know."

Frank crossed his legs and twisted his arm at an awkward angle so it wouldn't brush against Gerard's. After what seemed long enough for a gay baby to be born, Gerard said, "So what should we do now?"

"I dunno," Frank said. "We could watch a movie or something."

"No!" Gerard said vehemently, making Frank jump. "I mean, what do we do? Musically?" he looked Frank in the eye, which Frank figured was quite a feat, since Gerard's stare was making him uncomfortable and it was too dark to see. "Look." Gerard's voice grew low. It was his propositioning voice – the same one he used to tell Mikey that if he played with My Chem, he would meet a unicorn. "You're a genius, I'm a genius. You're talented, so am I. I know you miss MCR – you're not the only one. What say we start a new band? We're both vocals. You're guitar. We'll have James be drummer or something. We'll find someone for bass. We'll make millions and save a ton of lives. It'll be fucking awesome."

"Gerard," Frank said. "You…" he didn't know what to think. "I guess it's a good idea."

Gerard pulled out his phone. "Look." He opened Notes. "I've already written like five fucking thousand songs or something."

Frank started to feel exciting. "This is gonna be fun! What do you think the MCRmy will think?"

"THAT REMINDS ME!" Gerard said so abruptly that Frank's hair stood up on end.

"What?"

"LOOK!" he opened Twitter and typed in #frerard. About three gazillion results came up, but the top one was something that Ray had tweeted. It was:

With mikeyway contemplating #frerard. We totally ship it.

Gee raised an eyebrow. "Those fuckers! We have to get them back!"

Something tightened unenthusiastically in Frank's throat. "Yeah," he agreed, putting on a smile, even though it was dark.

Gerard paused. "Frank, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Frank said. "Nothing at all."

Gerard let loose a snort of disbelief. "Did you know that you're a horrible liar?"

Frank bit his lower lip so hard it bled. "So how do we get them back?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

Gerard sat up straighter and put a hand under Frank's chin, forcing him to stare into eyes that he was sure were serious. "Frank. Honestly. Don't try to change the subject. Something is up with you."

"Nothing," Frank said, squirming. "Really."

Gerard sighed. "Whatever." Frank was surprised to note that he seemed sad. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Yeah," Frank said quietly.

The two sat in silence for a long time. Frank fiddled with his lip ring and listened to Gerard's breathing. Gerard stood up finally. "I'm gonna get a beer. You want some?"

"Sure," Frank said. He followed Gerard to the kitchen uninvited. His fear had evaporated somehow. He shrugged to himself. He always felt better around Gerard.

"Here." Gerard pressed a cold beer bottle into Frank's hand. He took a sip and swallowed the bitter brown liquid, relishing in the warmth it left in his throat.

The next half hour found a tipsy Frank putting a on a record and his pajamas, which weren't much – just a pair of sweats. Frank always slept shirtless – he liked the feeling of the sheets against his back.

"Can I sleep with you?" Gerard hiccupped. Catching Frank's quizzical look in the flashlight beam, he added quickly, "Not like that. I mean, like, sleep."

Frank nodded. Gerard took off his shirt and put on Frank's Wolverine pajama pants. He climbed into bed and snuggled up close to Frank, slinging a lazy arm around him. Frank's pulse quickened. Gee was so drunk.

"So how is Jamia?" Gee asked.

Frank shrugged. "She's good. The girls and her are staying at the Massachusetts house. I'm only here for a week."

Gerard sighed. "I wish you were here more often. I miss you, y'know."

Frank smiled secretly. It felt good to be missed. "I miss you too. I wish you lived closer."

Gerard laughed humorlessly. "Lyn-Z would never want to live anywhere but Jersey."

"I know," Frank said. "I don't understand girls."

"Me either," Gee agreed after a long pause. "Maybe this is the point in my life where I become a gay recluse who lives off of tater tots and watches Netflix all day."

Frank giggled. "I already am one."

"Maybe I'll join you. That wouldn't be very reclusive of me, though, would it?"

"I suppose," Frank said. Gerard trailed his fingers over Frank's stomach, and suddenly Frank felt horribly self-conscious. All of his insecurities came rushing back to him – the way he didn't like the way he looked in pictures, or that his nose was lopsided, or his voice wavered too much. And his feelings about Jamia. He loved her, yeah, but not the way he loved people.

"Awkward silence," Gerard said.

"Yeah," Frank agreed. Then, hesitantly, he asked, "What do you do if you don't love someone like you loved them yesterday?"

Gerard didn't laugh, for which Frank was grateful. "You fill millions of notebooks with songs and poems and pictures and you watch comedies and don't laugh and you paint your nails black and eat a shit ton of chocolate ice cream."

"Okay," Frank said.

"Why?"

Frank paused and shrugged against Gerard's slim frame.

"Are things okay with Jamia?"

"Yeah," Frank said unsurely. "I just… I feel like I'm getting bored, or something. I have Restless Heart Syndrome."

Gerard laughed. "Do you want me to microwave some tater tots?"

Frank rolled his eyes. "Thanks but no thanks, Mr. Recluse."

The two lay quietly for a while. Frank thought Gerard was about to fall asleep, but then he sat straight up and yelled, "SHIT!"

Gerard had a habit of yelling things arbitrarily and loudly, especially while Frank was driving, but this still surprised him slightly. "What?"

"I never told Lyn-Z I was leaving." He pulled out his phone and texted her. Hey, L. I am Frnk's. B back in the morning. Xoxo, G.

"Oh," Frank said stupidly. He buried his face in his pillow. "Remember when Mikey kissed Ray because we dared him to?"

Gerard busted up. "The look on his face! Remember when Bob lost all his sticks for the Bullets show and had to use carrots?"

"Remember when Ray fell into the dunk tank?"

"Remember when you were sick and during practice you fell off the stage?"

"Remember when you were dating Gemma and she said that she hated your eyeliner and Mikey was like 'HELL NAW BISH!'"

"Remember when I kissed you in the Not Okay video?" Gerard asked suddenly.

"Yes," Frank said. "Yes I do."

"Well, I'm going to do it again," Gerard said quietly, and he hesitantly leaned over Frank and pressed his lips to Frank's unsurely, as if he wasn't sure they'd fit with someone who wasn't a girl.

They sat like that for a minute, not doing anything, and then Gerard broke away and settled into his pillow. "'Night."

"So long and goodnight," Frank agreed, and he closed his eyes and fell into a lonely, lost sleep.

The next morning, Frank woke up to find an empty spot in his bed next to him. The smell of frying bacon came from the kitchen, and the sound of Gerard singing along to Green Day's Viva La Gloria. Frank stretched and stood up. Something caught his eye, a slip of paper on his nightstand, and he blearily rubbed his eyes and leaned closer. In Gerard's messy script, it simply said:

They'll never hurt you.

I promise.