It wasn't a crush, per say, but Gerard had been forced into doing the washing up by his mother, and he was smiling - needless to say, he was thinking about Frank.

But it wasn't a crush, because he wasn't thinking about Frank smiling or being 'cute' or anything else sufficiently pathetic; Gerard was thinking about Frank Iero fucking coming all over himself while thinking of him.

It wasn't a crush.

It was an affliction, lust, or something, because those were the feelings Gerard had, and not, fucking pathetic ones.

He didn't even get all fucking gooey over Bert, or at least when they were dating, even with the four fucking year relationship, he could never quite achieve head over heels love, but there was no denying the fact that his heart was beating a little faster as he stood washing the plates.

However, he still wasn't entirely sure as to whether that was do with some bullshit lovey chemical in his brain, or just the extra blood needed in his dick right now, because fuck, Frank Iero coming was hot, and Gerard needed to finish the washing up right the fuck now so he could go and jack off for at least twelve years, which was a great idea in Gerard's mind, after all, it wasn't the only amazing idea of Gerard's that lasted twelve years, was it?

The nineteen year old cursed his mother for not just buying a goddamn dishwasher, like he chimed in with a haven't you people ever heard of buying a goddamn dishwasher? However both Mikey and his mum were out, and that was exactly why he'd been lumped with dishwashing duty, so they didn't hear him, which was probably a good thing, but whatever.

Gerard finished a few more dishes, before going 'fuck it' because he was nineteen and super mature and why the fuck would his mum possibly insist that he actually helped around the house for once in his life? Like oh my god, so unfair! 

However, by the very moment he had his bedroom door locked behind him, Gerard was thinking about a whole lot more than the washing up and his mother, Jesus Christ he definitely was not thinking about his mother as he fell back against his bed and shrugged his jeans off, cursing them for being fucking skin tight, and then later cursing emo culture for making him even want to wear this shit, but he looked good in skinny jeans and everyone fucking knew it.

With the jeans off and lying in a heap on the floor, he soon had his right hand around his dick, already half hard, because insane thoughts of Frank Iero did that to a guy, fuck, he- Frank didn't even know what was happening right now as Gerard bucked his hips up into his head - so fucking close and he'd barely even started yet; he'd be ashamed, if he was anything but incredibly fucking turned on right now.

He let out a strained moan, fisting the sheets with his left hand as all kinds of thoughts flooded his head, and fuck, Frank, Frank needed to know he was thinking about him like this, because this wasn't something Gerard did for everyone, and goddamn, Gerard needed to fuck that guy and he needed to fuck him right now.

And that was exactly how Gerard found his cellphone on the pillow beside him, on speakerphone and dialling Frank, but never fast enough as Gerard attempted to slow the movement of his hand, just in the hopes of lasting long enough for Frank to at least pick up, because fuck- but fuck, he needed this, and he seriously reckoned he hadn't been this turned on in forever, and surely that meant something, but Gerard wasn't exactly in the position to contemplate the meaning of his entire fucking life right now.

"Hello? Gerard?" And that fucking voice. Fuck. Gerard found himself responding with nothing more than a choked, half muffled, desperate kind of moan. "Are you- okay? Ge- oh my god, you- you, you're not, I-"

"Touching myself just thinking about you, Frankie." He managed to force the words out, gripping himself a little tighter as he did so, and really neither of the two could have expected the kind of moan that came from Gerard's lips as he did so.

"Fuck- Gerard- I... I have to go and meet Lindsey in like two minutes- I-"

"No, no you don't, fucking listen to me: you're gonna get the fuck back into bed and you're gonna get your hand around yourself and you're going to let me tell you everything I want to do to you right now."

Gerard pulled his hand away from himself with a great deal of reluctance, biting down on his bottom lip just to hold out a little longer as he listened intently to the sounds of Frank shuffling around in his room, and then a zipper, a fucking zipper, and fuck.

"I-I... I'm... yeah..." Frank's words were strangled, his voice lowered and Gerard couldn't help but wonder if his fucking mum was in the next room, oblivious to her little innocent saint of a son getting off with another man.

"I wanna fuck you so bad, Frankie, so bad, all I could think about this morning, fucking you, and the way you moan - I wanna make you moan like that." And almost as if on cue, Frank was moaning like fucking hell itself. "I wanna get you naked and fucking on your knees, I wanna spread you apart, I wanna fucking tease you forever, I would if I could, but goddamn, I couldn't last that long just looking at your pretty little ass, and- I'd finger you, and you'd look so pretty press back against me, because you're such a slut for me, Frankie, but no, I wouldn't let you, I'd throw you back down onto your hands and knees, and grip your hips so fucking tight that they ache for days as I fuck you so hard and so deep into the fucking mattress: your prostate again, and again, every time and you're going be screaming for me to let you come, but I'm not gonna let you until I've filled your fucking ass with my come, and then I fuck you once more with everything I've got and then, then you're going to come so fucking hard-"

And almost like fucking magic, Frank did.

"Did I say you could come?" Gerard snapped, his breathing heavy as he imagined Frank spread out there with his own come all over his chest, and within seconds, he found himself in much the same state. "Fuck."

"Did I say you could come?" Frank asked, chuckling a little, and if Gerard was there he knew like fuck that he would have fucking slapped him, or wait...

"I'm gonna spank the fuck out of you if you don't shut up."

"And then what?" And Gerard could hear the wink in Frank's voice.

-

Mikey wasn't exactly sure what it was about Pete, but there was most definitely something, and there was most definitely something in Mikey too that ensured Pete hadn't been fucking punched yet.

The two were sat in the park, Pete having managed to sit cross legged on a swing, and Mikey sat normally on the one beside him, waiting for the inevitable moment when Pete fell the fuck off that thing and cracked his skull open, but Pete didn't seem all that concerned for his own safety at all.

"Do you ever stop smoking?" Pete asked, watching as Mikey lit what was probably his fifth cigarette. "You have an increased risk of lung cancer, you know?"

"Really, no one has ever told me!" Mikey exclaimed in a half-hearted sarcastic sort of manner.

"I did, just now." Pete watched as Mikey put the cigarette to his lips and exhaled with very little care.

"I was being sarcastic, you idiot." Mikey couldn't help but let his lips crack into a small smile as he turned back to face Pete, who was looking at him with an unplaceable, just... odd kind of expression.

"Oh." Pete found himself just sat there, kind of awkwardly returning Mikey's smile, but happily doing so. "Are you still going to smoke even though it's bad for you?"

"Yes." Mikey uttered with a kind of sincerity that made the both of them laugh.

"Why?"

"I... actually kind of don't know." Mikey admitted, brushing his hair away from his face. "It's just a thing, I'm just... I guess I kind of picked it up from my brother, he smokes a lot, and my mum smokes too, but I guess I smoke the most, like I spend all day smoking, Gerard spends all day jacking off or fucking or whatever, and my mum spends the whole... fuck I don't even know what my mum does, nagging the both of us, probably."

"Has your brother ever considered a career in prostitution?" Pete asked, and it was kind of a genuine question.

"I'd say he has far too much self respect, or well, far too big an ego for that." Mikey laughed it off, brushing off the fact that Pete Wentz was continuing to make him laugh for the millionth time, because okay, maybe they kind of were friends at this point, but... but... but... fuck. "But I'll definitely suggest it as an option. My mum's been nagging at him just to get a fucking job for weeks now, like I'm sure she imagined some kind of grocery store clerk kind of thing as opposed to hooker, but, we'll see."

"Do you still hate me?" Pete kind of burst out with the question, catching Mikey just a little by surprise as he did so.

"No, I... I don't know, I just... I got the wrong impression of you, maybe... you're kind of awkward around people, new people, all people actually, and I just thought you were being a creep, or something." Mikey paused for a moment, trying his best not to upset Pete. "No offense or... I... I consider you my friend now, anyway, so it's-"

"I'm autistic." Pete let out a sigh, looking anywhere but Mikey, because his reaction was something that Pete could not face. "Asperger's. It's... not important, I don't usually tell people, well anyone, but you actually pointed it out and asked."

"Oh my god, fucking way to make me feel like a douche." Mikey exclaimed, grabbing Pete's hand in an effort to gain his attention once more, or just to get the fucking guy to look at him, however it didn't exactly go as well as expected.

Pete jumped, and Pete jumped like fucking hell itself, and fell the fuck off the swing. He fell onto the weird soft thing they put underneath the swings at least, so Mikey didn't have to drag his ass to the hospital or something, but he didn't look particularly happy about it.

"Ow... I..." Pete looked up at Mikey: at least he'd landed on his butt, but, still, it fucking hurt. "Sorry."

"Why the fuck are you apologising to me?" Mikey shook his head and put his cigarette between his lips as he got up to help Pete to his feet.

"I made you feel like a douche." Pete explained, blushing a little.

"And I made you fall off a swing." Mikey put his cigarette between his fingers, laughing and shaking his head a little. "You alright, for serious?"

"Yeah, I'm, my butt hurts, but otherwise, I'd say I'm alright."

"Good, do you want to like sit down, somewhere, you can't fall off of?" Mikey asked, smirking a little. "The bench or something?"

"But that's so hard, my butt's going to kill me, I-"

"Sit on my lap." Mikey grinned, taking a drag of his cigarette. "We just have to hope that doesn't get hard, otherwise your butt is going to be in a whole new kind of trouble."

"Mikey-" Pete protested, wide eyed and not entirely sure as to whether Mikey was being entirely serious or not, but before he knew what was happening, Mikey was dragging him over to the bench and sitting him down on his lap.

"Better?" He asked, holding his cigarette out in his hand away for Pete.

"I should fall off swings and hurt my butt more often."

Mikey grinned, blushing just a little, but goddamn, this wasn't a crush, this was... honestly, Mikey didn't have a fucking clue what this was.

And perhaps he was just as hopeless as his brother when it came to crushes and feelings, almost.

-

"You have an awful habit of being late, Frank Iero." Lindsey smiled at Frank as he approached her, sat in the park, on the swings, as usual.

"I thought Jamia was coming." Frank raised an eyebrow at the empty swings beside her, and then that one swing that looked like it had been upturned and someone had, well, fallen off it or something else equally as ridiculous.

"She's being weird with me." Lindsey shrugged it off, in much the same manner that Frank had shrugged off her comment about being late, so really, they were kind of even at that point. "I think it's to do with her being single, and-"

"Lindsey, trust me, just leave it, just leave her be... she'll tell you eventually, or at least I fucking hope she does, because it's going to drive both me and her insane otherwise." Frank cracked a smile as he took a seat in the swing beside her.

"It's fucking frustrating, though, because everyone knows that I tell Jamia everything and I would tell her it all without a fucking moment's thought, but..." Lindsey stopped, the swing coming to halt as she began to kick the dirt below with her feet. "I don't get it - I just don't, and I think that's that."

"She'll tell you eventually." Frank added after a moment, cringing a little as he received a text message, because it was either going to be from his mum, or... Gerard, and well... either would be terrible with Lindsey around.

"Who's that from?" And of course, Lindsey had to ask, didn't she?

"G-Gerard."

'We need to fuck for real at some point, before I go crazy.'

And an 'x' that was so fucking out of place that it almost seemed lost amongst a message that Gerard Way had sent.

"Ooh, what does it say, come on, tell me." Lindsey demanded, and well, if there was ever a moment for promptly dying on the spot, it was now.

"It's private- I-"

But Lindsey was snatching the phone from his hand before Frank could protest, and a face of shock turned into one of intrigue as Lindsey scrolled up and fucking threw the phone back at Frank.

"Oh my god, you're getting laid, Frank, you're getting laid, Jesus Christ, why didn't you tell me before?" Lindsey exclaimed, almost genuinely excited for him, which was kind of weird, to say the least.

"It's kind of not your business, Lindsey." Frank blushed, texting Gerard back with a quick, 'I can't talk right now sorry', because Lindsey had totally ensured that the message flagged up as red and Frank just couldn't deal with Gerard getting bitching about him now replying or anything.

"Whatever, Frank, I don't get you sometimes, you know? I really don't..."

Frank wasn't listening, but it wasn't like it even mattered, as Pete Wentz and Mikey Way appeared from seemingly nowhere, and Lindsey had something other than Frank to occupy her time with.

Sure, Frank liked Lindsey, but Lindsey wasn't exactly a fucking saint, and Lindsey wasn't exactly the person you'd trust, and well, Frank could deal with that, at least for the most part, however Jamia couldn't, as she'd done nothing but put the devil up in heaven and forced herself to deal with the consequences.

Of course, nothing was Jamia's fault, nothing was anybody's fault, but Frank watched as Lindsey called the two over, and he reckoned that he could totally start sexting Gerard right then and right there, if Mikey just didn't happen to be Gerard's brother, because that totally fucking ruined that idea for Frank.

"Hey Mikey Way." She smiled up at him, twirling her hair a little, and Frank just wanted to punch her or somebody, and he looked up at Pete, and came to the blatant and shocking realisation that Mikey Way and Pete Wentz were hanging out together and by choice, and damn, there was no denying the fact that Pete looked awfully fucking proud of himself.

Frank didn't say anything, because it wasn't his place and he reckoned that from the side glance Mikey gave him, he respected that.

Mikey found himself ripped away in small talk with Lindsey Ballato, and Pete Wentz just standing there, awkwardly, kind of jealously watching, and Frank went fuck it to his entire life and got up, gesturing for Pete to follow him as the two made their way over to the grass a couple of metres away from the swings and sat down.

"Jamia's not here, so I guess it's my job to apologise for Lindsey Ballato's existence today- good god, am I the back up Jamia?" Frank exclaimed, finding himself thrown into shock with the sudden realisation as he followed Pete's gaze back to Mikey. "What's the deal with you and Mikey then?"

"I don't know." Pete laughed a little, stopping himself from staring before Mikey could fucking notice.

"At least you two are talking now." Frank added, meeting Pete's gaze with something like a smile, because okay, Pete could most definitely be annoying at times, but he still didn't hate the guy.

"He's amazing, he's super lovely." Pete confessed before he could stop himself, and was blushing a horrible shade of red when he came to realise just what he'd done. "I just need to tell someone, sorry."

"How about you tell him?" Frank suggested, a small smile tugging at his lips; Lindsey most definitely wouldn't like that, but any deterrent from her attraction towards Mikey would leave Jamia fucking over the moon.

And Frank felt sorry for Jamia more often than not, and he strived to fix that, because she most certainly didn't fucking deserve it, and he didn't reckon that Lindsey meant it either, but... people could make a real mess of the world around them if they simply neglected explaining and confessing what the fuck was going on in their heads.

"I can't, I... I... can't." Pete shook his head firmly, blushing at the mere notion of it.

"You can do anything, Pete Wentz, you fucking hear me?" Frank grinned, glancing down at his cellphone again, because fucking hell, Gerard just didn't understand 'not now', did he?

"Are you going to tell him?" 

And Frank jumped like fuck as he realised Pete was reading the messages over his shoulder.

"I... I reckon he already knows, if I'm honest."

"But you didn't like tell him upfront?"

"No, he just sort of... we just sort of... things just worked out, I guess."

"Do you think Mikey will just sort of work things out?"

Frank looked up and across at Mikey, and the way he smiled at Lindsey, and how his heart was plummeting for Pete. "No, Mikey's fucking stupid and stubborn and arrogant and weirdly full of himself, you're going to have to tell him."

"I thought you liked him? Why are you saying that about him?"

"I do. Everyone has flaws, and you can't help but pick up on them, but you accept them, and you look past them, don't you?"

Pete looked back at Mikey and nodded.

-

hey guys lmao im dead and ill and tired af keep #praying4potato pls or i might actually die. i love pete wentz. bye.

((pls vote and comment)) <3