Archive of Our Own ^beta

Frankie is always a little nervous before a major shoot, especially when she's been on the road and hasn't had as much time to prepare. But today she's got everything ready, so the only thing left to do is wait for her subject to arrive. It doesn't help that Shaun is sitting next to her, flicking through his notebook and jiggling his leg. She smacks his thigh.

"Lay off, dude."

"Frankie, I am about to interview Grant Morrison. If you are expecting me to stop freaking out, then you are more insane than I already knew," he tells her.

Frankie rolls her eyes. "I need caffeine for this. So much caffeine." They might as well both be jittery. She goes to the mini-fridge in the corner of the studio and groans when she discovers that whoever's been using this room last decided to restock with Red Bull instead of Coke. Diet Red Bull. She's so busy cursing the unknown staffer's caffeine choices that when she straightens up, she almost runs into six feet of bald Scotsman. Apparently Grant Morrison arrived while she was grimacing at the refrigerator. She's already apologizing before she notices he's casting a lustful look - not at her, which okay, sometimes happens, or at her tattoos, which is where people usually look first, but at the can in her hand. "Hi!" Frankie says and shifts it to the other hand to shake his. "Frankie Iero."

"Hello! Grant Morrison. Pleased to meet you. There wouldn't happen to be another one of those hiding anywhere would there? I've just got in from JFK and could use a pick-me-up," he says.

She grins. "You're in luck. There's about twenty of them." She turns to get him one, but he beats her to the fridge, pulls out his own can, and cracks it open with a happy sigh. He takes a long drink then smiles at her.

"So what do you have in store for me today, Frankie Iero? I saw your editorial in last month's issue. It was stunning."

"Thanks! That was a fucking bitch of a shoot, honestly. Thought we had a poltergeist, I kept blowing bulbs. Anyway, I don't get you first, Shaun does, for the follow up questions to the phone interview. So you'll have to live in suspense for a while." Shaun is over in the corner making giant googly eyes at her, and seriously. Yes, Frankie knows who this dude is, and yes, she's read at least half his stuff, but this isn't her first rodeo, and he's nice. She grins again and pats Shaun on the shoulder on her way across the studio.

Frankie fiddles with the backdrop a bit and goes over to wardrobe to see what she could put him in. They left her a few suits to pick from, but now that she's seen him in his just-off-the-plane dress, she kind of wants to go a little more casual. At least for some of the shots. She casts a look over at Shaun and Grant. Shaun seems to have relaxed a bit and is managing to not look quite so terrified. Which is good, though she's fairly certain Grant would give him some good bits, even if he failed it up utterly. But Shaun is a pro, and even if this is his personal hero, he's holding up well.

Frankie lets their conversation flow past her. She already read Shaun's notes from the phone interview, and of course some of it is common knowledge, but Grant's really a fascinating person to listen to. And it's not just the accent. She discards all the suits on the rack, then thinks twice and pulls one of the jackets off its hanger and sets it aside with a graphic tee printed with skulls. She has no idea why it made it in here from wardrobe - she'd asked for an edgy but mature selection. She's actually sort of annoyed there's no one here from wardrobe. She doesn't usually do this part herself, but someone was double-booked. Anyway, she thinks the skull tee is perfect - Grant in person is oozing with charisma and definitely belongs on the edgy side of the scale. He's telling Shaun some sort of story about his first job while he was living on a council estate in Glasgow when she tunes back in.

It's a funny story: stories told by artists of all stripes about their early years of trying to succeed in their art and live at the same time always are. Frankie has some of her own and hearing Grant tell his just makes her like him more. They all laugh, and Shaun wraps things up. "Thanks again for doing this. We're really excited about this issue, and you and Gerard are going to give it just the right amount of…"

"Batshit crazy?" Frankie offers with a grin. Grant tips his head back and laughs.

"You've met him?" Grant asks.

"Not yet, actually," Frankie says. "Have you?"

"I have not had the pleasure, no," Grant tells her. "But you've got me dead to rights." He winks.

"All-seeing eye," Frankie says solemnly, tapping her camera. "I laid out some clothes for you in the changing area. If you don't need a break?" Grant shakes his head. "Alright. Amanda is here to do your makeup after you change, and you can leave your own jeans on," she tells him. They're white designer jeans. She has no idea how he's traveled in them and managed to keep them so pristine, but they are...well, really flattering, and she is a visual person, so.

Shaun says goodbye, and Grant disappears behind the partition. Frankie pulls out her light meter and rechecks the settings on the spots. Grant steps out looking exactly as she hoped. And yep, the skulls are perfect. "You didn't specify shoes, so I just picked the ones I liked best," Grant tells her.

"That's fine. Those are great, actually," she replies. She finishes her setup about the same time Amanda finishes the makeup and leaves. Frankie gives Grant some direction, tells him about where she needs him to stand for the first few shots, and then she just starts talking to him. Asks him questions about what he's working on, tells jokes, tells him about her favorite page from one of his books, all with periodic instructions to turn or move a certain way. Mostly she's just going for a real expression on his face.

She'd spent some time on Google Images, looking through pro and fan shots of him, and that was the one thing that struck her most of all about Grant. He's great at persona, and his persona is great. Call her a curmudgeon, though, but she wants something a bit more personal.

He's giving her exactly what she wants, too. He looks genuinely interested when she's telling him things about herself, laughs at her stupid jokes, and looks pleased when she tells him about how much she appreciates his work. After twenty minutes of that, she brings in a chair and a few other props, and they continue. At this point, they're basically just having a normal conversation, and Grant's clearly been photographed enough to know to change position sometimes and does it without much direction.

When she thinks she has enough - and her phone is beeping its polite reminder alarm from her messenger bag - she steps back and goes to turn the lights off. Grant blinks a few times. "All done," she tells him. "Need another Red Bull?"

"That would be much appreciated," he replies. "I don't suppose your magazine wants to foot the bill for, well, everything I'm wearing?"

She laughs. "Probably not, but Aaron, the wardrobe guy, will be be back in a few minutes, and he can tell you who you're wearing and where to get it all."

"That'll do," he says. "I have to say, this is one of the most enjoyable shoots I've done in a long time."

Frankie pulls a face and buffs her fingernails ostentatiously on the front of her shirt. "Tell your friends," she jokes. "Seriously, though, I thought Shaun was going to have a coronary, but it was fun working with you. Thanks for humoring me."

"The pleasure was all mine," Grant says with a grin. "And Shaun was charming. I often enjoy being interviewed by people who don't know much about me beyond what my wikipedia page says because they don't quite know what to expect, but it's also quite pleasant to speak with someone who does know as well." He pauses and winks. "Especially when they're a fan and don't get shirty with me."

"People have gotten shirty with you and lived to talk about it?" Frankie asks.

"As far as you know," Grant answers with a raised eyebrow.

She laughs. "Okay, well, take care. Hope the rest of your trip goes well. Amanda will come get all that stuff off your face, and like I said, Aaron will be here in a minute or two. One of them will show you out." She reaches out to shake his hand again.

Grant shakes back. "I look forward to seeing the finished product. When does the magazine come out?"

"Um. September or October, I think? A few months from now at any rate," she replies. "We're not doing the interview with Way for almost a month since he's off shooting on location right now."

Frankie picks up her camera case, and they say their goodbyes. Then she leaves him to the dubious mercies of Aaron from wardrobe and heads back to her desk in the bullpen. She has about three weeks of notes and memory cards to wade through from the last tour she followed.

*

One Month Later

Frankie and Shaun get to the LA field office in time to get in on a giant box of Randy's donuts someone brought in before Shaun has to start going over his notes, and Frankie has to set up for the shoot.

Gerard Way rolls in about an hour later, his sunglasses firmly in place and clutching a cup of coffee like it's the only thing he's living for. He's outgrown the "next Kevin Smith" label all the mags had given him when his career broke, but every Jersey kid knows his story - the sudden fame, the drugs, sobriety, a cult horror hit that went nuclear. So Frankie knows he's not hungover.

"Hi, I'm Frankie," she says with a grin and holds out her hand to shake his. "The photographer."

It takes him a second to coordinate holding his coffee with only one hand, but he manages. "Hi. I'm Gerard."

"You'll be doing the interview stuff first, but I just wanted to introduce myself," she tells him.

"Grant should be dialing in in about ten minutes. I'm Shaun. It's great to meet you." Gerard shakes Shaun's outstretched hand and pushes his sunglasses up on top of his head, and suddenly Frankie sees the wide-eyed excitement on his face. As well as the bags under his eyes. Makeup will have fun with that, she thinks.

"Man, I've been dying to talk to him for years. He's like, my biggest inspiration," Gerard gushes.

Hence the entire theme of the issue. Well, Frankie can't fault him for enthusiasm. She actually does feel a bit star-struck this time because he's a Jersey boy. She can't help it. Also, he is really fucking hot, bags and all.

"Well, I'll let you get to the interviewing. I'm gonna finish setting up," she says and goes back over to her studio set-up.

She makes quick work of it and then consults with the stylist. They choose a shirt, waistcoat, and tie for Gerard to wear before going back to the main area. She wants to hear this.

Grant calls in, and Shaun introduces everyone on their side of the call - even Frankie, god knows why - and then starts leading them through his questions. She knows from the other interviews Shaun's been doing that some are standard, but he lets Grant and Gerard guide a lot of the discussion which is fucking fascinating. They both spend no small amount of time gushing over how much they love each other's work.

Gerard is fucking adorable to watch. He blushes and beams, and it's basically the cutest thing Frankie has seen since the box of puppies sitting outside the Stop & Shop back home. By the end, they're talking like old friends.

"Behave for Ms. Iero," Grant says to Gerard as they're all saying goodbye. "I want our photos to be the prettiest ones in the issue."

She snorts and mutters, "I don't think there's really going to be a contest there."

Gerard looks right at her and smirks. "I think she likes our chances," he says down the line. They exchange email addresses, Gerard fumbling for his phone to tap it into his contacts.

"And I'll be back in LA in October or November, so we should have dinner," Grant says. Gerard's face is priceless. Frankie wants her camera.

"Now, makeup and wardrobe," she chirps after the call disconnects. She saw her favorite makeup artist sneak into the room while they were wrapping up the call. Gerard groans. "Don't worry, Jeremy will make you pretty."

"Jeremy could make the broad side of a barn look good with the right makeup," Jeremy says. "This guy won't be any trouble."

Frankie grins at him. "You totally could."

"Hi, asshole," he says and leans in to kiss her cheek. "It's about time you showed your face here again."

"You know LA hates me," she replies. "Also, you're a douchebag." She gives him a hug and pulls back. "Shaun, make yourself useful and go over to the Coffee Bean across the street and get coffee, so Gerard doesn't pass out from exhaustion."

"Coffee?" Gerard says hopefully. Shaun asks him what he'd like and then leaves, and Gerard eyes her curiously as Jeremy sits him down. "She's bossy," he comments to Jeremy as Jeremy tries to unfuck his hair.

"She'll take panty-dropping pictures though," Jeremy tells him.

"Not just jaw-dropping?" Gerard asks.

"Or boxer-dropping? Maybe all three," Frankie comments as she fiddles with the backdrops. She wants something lighter colored now that she's seen the clothes the stylist brought. "I am that good. I can show you the pictures of Grant if you need convincing." She shoots a grin over her shoulder to see Gerard looking eager.

"Would you? I'd love to see them."

"They'll be your reward at the end of the shoot, how about that?" The stylist, Cathy, takes over when Jeremy releases Gerard from the makeup cape. She doesn't stick around long though, begging another appointment, and Jeremy promises to call her when they're done. Frankie waves distractedly as she adjusts her spots again.

Frankie is really pleased once she gets Gerard settled and starts shooting. He gives good face. She can tell he's a director though; he asks lots of questions and makes a few suggestions. But he also doesn't seem to have a problem when she ignores them, so it's okay.

She gets him talking a lot like she did Grant. He's really not shy about talking about his work once she asks the right questions, and he gets really animated. When she confesses that his breakout film is her favorite modern horror movie, he does the beaming blush thing he did on the phone with Grant.

"And that opinion means something," Jeremy says when he jumps in to re-powder Gerard's forehead. "I'm pretty sure she's seen every horror movie ever made."

"Hush, you'll make him think I'm creepy," Frankie says dryly.

"Hate to break it to you, but you are," Jeremy says.

Frankie looks back at Gerard. "And nerdy, I must confess." She shows him her Frankenstein tattoo.

"That's totally badass," Gerard says and reaches out with his fingers as if to touch before snapping his hand back.

"I was sick a lot as a kid. Had to keep myself entertained somehow, you know?"

"Your parents are pretty badass then. Where are you from?" Gerard asks as she re-poses him.

"They kind of are, and I'm from Jersey," she says.

Gerard just laughs. "Of course, you are. I probably should have caught the accent. You sound like home, not LA."

"Good save," Jeremy pipes up. "She hates LA. More's the pity."

"I didn't say I hated it; I said it hated me," Frankie corrects. "Gonna make it choke on me though, I'm probably moving out here in a month or so myself."

"You know, Frankie, people usually tell their friends when they might be moving to the same city," Jeremy snipes. Frankie just waves him off.

"It's not so bad," Gerard says. "Pretty fucking weird at first, really, but you get used to it."

"I hope so. I mean, I travel so much for work anyway. But I do have friends here," she sticks her tongue out at Jeremy. "So..." she trails off and keeps snapping pictures.

"And also there are a lot of great opportunities for work here," Shaun adds, coming back with the coffees. "Sorry, there was a line."

"But you're not moving here," she says.

"Only because I have kids and a wife, and it would end in tears," Shaun answers.

"Which, speaking of tears, I have a meeting with editorial. Gerard, I'll be in touch." He steps forward to shake Gerard's hand, waves at Jeremy and Frankie, and leaves again.

"Okay, I just want a few more shots, I think. Yes, you can keep drinking your coffee," she tells Gerard when he motions toward it.

"Frankie from Jersey," Gerard says after he takes a sip. "Misfits or Black Flag?"

"Fuck you, that's a terrible question, and I refuse to answer it." She snaps a picture of his smirk. "I'll have you know I have tattoos of both their logos. And no. I won't show you." She smirks back.

"I'm going to pretend they're on your ass now," Gerard informs her.

"Imagine whatever you want," she replies. "Okay, done."

"Really? That went way fast," Gerard says.

"I'm just really entertaining," she teases. "And you're a great model. I didn't even have to pull out the thumbscrews."

"How often do you need to pull out the thumbscrews?" he asks.

"More often than you would think considering I mostly photograph people who are performers. You'd think they'd be able to call up some personality for the camera." She whacks Jeremy on the boots as she walks by, and he looks up from his iPad. "You're up, big boy." She starts packing up her gear as Jeremy removes Gerard's makeup and points him back behind the screen to change.

"So is this moving out here plan a go, or are you still deciding?" Gerard asks over the partition.

"Still deciding, but I have good leads on apartments and shit, and I'm following up on them," she replies.

"Well, if you do move out here, you should call me. I can show you all the local secrets." He emerges from behind the screen in the same rumpled shirt and jeans he showed up in, sunglasses shoved up into his hair this time. Frankie dips into her messenger bag and pulls out a business card. "Your card, huh? I feel so unprepared. Got another one?" Confused, she hands him a second card, and he fishes an art marker out of his pocket and scribbles on the back. "Seriously, though. When I got out here, I didn't have anyone who understood the whole Jersey thing. Call me," he says, handing the second card back.

She flips it over to see a phone number and email scrawled on the back and smiles at him gratefully. "I will."

Gerard waves at them both and lets himself out into the hall.

"Shut up, Jeremy," Frankie says preemptively.

"That was a fuckload of flirting I just witnessed, is all I'm saying," he says, hands raised in mock surrender.

"You should have been here during the interview then. He was most definitely flirting with Grant."

"Open-minded dude, huh?" Jeremy says, wiggling his eyebrows. She smacks him.

"Like you can talk. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he was just being nice."

Jeremy chuckles. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

She rolls her eyes. "Jersey kids have to stick together, man."

"Or LA will eat you alive?" he asks.

She scoffs. "More like we'll be the ones doing the eating." He comes over and gives her a hug.

"I gotta go, tiger, but don't forget to call me if you move out here. I will take you out for the most expensive cheap beers I can find."

She grins into his shoulder. "I definitely will."

*

Two Months Later

Moving to LA was a good decision for Frankie's career as a photographer. She knows this. But holy fucking shit does she never want to make a cross-country move like that again for a long time. Or if she does it again, she's definitely starting fresh. None of this trying to coordinate moving all her stuff, her car, and herself almost three thousand miles bullshit. Frankie is pretty hopeful that she can deal with being based here for portrait and magazine work; she travels so much for the concert stuff anyway that she can still get her East Coast fix, and hopefully she won't want to move again for a while.

She's mostly settled in, a few more boxes left to unpack. She's hung out with her local friends a bunch, and that's one nice thing. They're all great, and she misses them a lot when she's not here. She's mostly been so busy there hasn't been any time to miss home too much. Then she gets hit by a patented Frankie death plague and spends days cooped up in her apartment watching movies and being generally cranky, even after she's mostly better.

When she picks up one of Gerard's movies, she thinks "screw it" and texts him.

He responds immediately. Hi!

She smiles at her phone. Hi! So the whole move thing happened and I'm here. Caught a cold and was watching my favorite movies and thought of you.

Are you watching holy water? he asks. She can practically hear the pleased tone.

Yeah, and wondering if there is any decent pizza in this town.

Sorry :( Not that I've found yet, anyway. A lot of people have tried to convince me that what I'm eating is good pizza, but they don't know what theyre talking about.

Ugh. Damn. I was hoping some enterprising New Yorker had taken it upon themselves to fix that problem.

Nope. There ARE some good diners I could take you to, though.

Take her to. Not tell her about. Fuck. Frankie looks down at her ripped sweatpants and tee shirt. I may still be contagious, she warns him.

I'll take my chances. I bet you're tired of being cooped up and I made myself want some fucking pancakes.

If you're sure.

Yup. I can meet you somewhere? Or pick you up.

Frankie gives him the address of the Coffee Bean nearest her place, and they agree on a half hour. Then she puts her phone down and looks at her clothes again in dismay then shrugs. Clean jeans, at least. She throws on a jacket over the stupid boy scout camp shirt she stole from her ex and wets down the more ridiculous parts of her hair. She thinks about putting on a little makeup, but fuck it. She's been sick, and she doesn't give a fuck. Well, it's a small lie, but she doesn't have the energy, and Gerard doesn't seem to be the Hollywood type who would judge her for it. She'd be gone in seconds if he did, anyway. Fuck that shit.

She gets to the Coffee Bean a couple of minutes early, but apparently it doesn't matter because Gerard pulls in just after her in a Porsche. Promptness is not generally a trait Frankie's used to in this town. It's kind of refreshing. He rolls down the window. "Going my way?"

"Oh god, you didn't," Frankie groans.

"Did I mention the vegetarian part of the diner?" he grins enticingly. He remembered. From talking to her for like an hour. Well, shit.

"You did not. Man, why didn't I text you sooner? I don't know where to find any of this shit." She rolls up her window and gets out of her car and into Gerard's. She pushes the lock button on her key fob and buckles up. "Nice ride, Hollywood."

Gerard smiles and reverses out of the parking spot. "It was the first thing I bought with my first 'holy shit I made a cult movie' paycheck."

"How cliche." She says it with a grin, though, and Gerard laughs.

"It's used?"

"Jersey boy," she sing-songs at him.

"Lay off, or I won't take you to the fake bacon."

"Threats to deprive someone of one of the major food groups when they haven't been to the grocery store in a week are just cruel and unusual," Frankie fires back.

*

"So tell me," Gerard says once they're settled into a booth with coffee cups in front of them, "What's Frankie short for?"

"Gaaaah," she groans. "Least favorite question. I'm Frankie; I've always been Frankie."

"You're talking to a dude named Gerard," he points out. "Gerard Arthur."

Frankie giggles. "Oh, god. Your parents, too, huh. Fine, jeez. Mary Frances. Technically." He valiantly tries to keep a straight face; she'll give him that. But he can only maintain it for about thirty seconds before he's cracking and trying to hold in the giggles. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. I'm gonna call you Arthur from now on."

"I am a noble king," he retorts.

" 'Cause some watery tart threw a sword at you?" she asks sweetly. She's pretty sure he laughs until the waitress sticks a stack of pancakes under his nose.

"Oh god, pancakes," he says with a happy moan. Frankie looks down at her plate of tofu scramble and facon and potatoes and kind of wants to die of happiness.

"I'm gonna be so pissed if my nose is still too stuffed to taste this," she says and takes a bite. He watches her chew with a hopeful expression on his face, smiling around his fork when she makes a happy noise. "Okay, you're on my good side for sure," she tells him around a mouthful of potato. "Tell me a story, Gerard? I've been shut up in my house all week talking at the Food Network chefs."

"That's pretty dire," he says. "Okay. A story. What kind of story?"

"Whatever pops to mind," she replies and takes another bite.

"So, my brother. Mikey. He has always been a pretty industrious dude in really weird ways, and we got the internet earlier than most other people. Before the whole file sharing thing really even happened, Mikey got Japanese copies of like, really old Disney movies that haven't even been released here? Shit like "Song of the South" and stuff, and he bootlegged them. Made DVDs and sold copies."

"Oh, man, Disney bootlegs. Should you even be saying that out loud in this town? Won't some sort of Mouse Police come get you?"

He laughs. "We actually got a visit from the FBI. It was fucking freaky. They didn't end up charging him or anything, just wanted to scare the shit out of him. Which they did. And our dad grounded him for an entire summer. Mikey's like… not built for grounding. I thought it was pretty funny, honestly."

"He works with you now, right?" Frankie asks.

"Yeah, he and his wife sort of followed me out here. He's part of the production company with me, does like...web stuff for us."

"Awesome," she says. "I've never worked with family, but I'm not sure how well it would turn out. There are a lot of strong fucking personalities."

"Mikey and I have always done everything together," he says, cutting a big bite off his stack of pancakes. "We even worked our shitty first jobs together. We worked at the same grocery store, worked at the Barnes & Noble in Clifton together. It just made sense when I started the production company to have him work for me."

"So the only child is the photographer, and the oldest child is the director. That's sort of interesting," Frankie says.

"Yeah, I meant to ask, how's work going after your move?"

"Good so far! I had a strategy in moving when I did. Concert season is mostly wound down, and so more and more of my work will be studio based. And I was spending at least half the winter out here anyway, so it's just easier. I've got a contract with the magazine, but I've been getting some work on the side, too. Tons of headshots and shit. So that's good," she explains.

Gerard wipes his mouth with his napkin and drops it onto his plate. "So, if you're working mostly out of your studio right now, you can hang out some more, yeah?"

Warmth settles in the pit of her stomach, and she smiles wide. "Yeah, should be able to. I'm going to London for a few weeks before Christmas to do some fashion stuff, but other than that, I've got a pretty flexible schedule. Most of my shoots aren't any more than a day or two."

"Fuck, I love London," Gerard says. "You ever been -" They talk over each other for a while longer as they finish their coffee, then Gerard steals the check - "I invited," he insists - and pays and they get back in his car.

They chat until Gerard pulls into the parking lot of the Coffee Bean. "Hey, thanks for getting me out of the house and treating me to an awesome meal. That's basically exactly what I needed," Frankie says.

"Any time," he replies with a sweet, sincere smile. "I mean that."

Frankie leans over and hugs him on impulse. She's a huggy person, okay? He makes a little surprised noise and then hugs back. "See you around, Gerard," she says, then fishes her keys out of her pocket and hops out of the car. He waves and drives off, and she gets in her own car and drives home. That really was exactly what she needed.

*

Frankie and Gerard text on and off throughout the next week. Apparently he and his editor/director of photography/general right hand man, Ray, are putting the final touches on his latest short. He still finds plenty of time to chat with Frankie and occasionally send her photos of things from the set. They squeeze in pizza one night - "the best of a sad bunch," Gerard calls it - and then she doesn't hear from him for a couple days before another invitation randomly appears.

LA essential: La Brea tar pits. My SIL works there, maybe she'll show us the bone room. Wanna visit?

Bone room??? Frankie texts back.

Shut up. Ossuary. You knew what I meant. Friday afternoon?

They meet there because Gerard is coming from some meeting at Warner, and Frankie wears a skeleton tee because it feels appropriate. Gerard makes her pose in front of the mastodon because apparently he thinks she's not going to punch him for making fun of how short she is, and it's basically like a date except for how it's not and for how his sister-in-law is there.

Alicia turns out to be really nice, actually. She's an entire head taller than Frankie - which isn't hard - and wearing awesome boots that make her even taller and totally make up for the dorky lab coat. She shows them how they clean the bones and sort them, and there is an ossuary which she totally calls a bone room with an eyebrow twitch, and Gerard and Frankie both giggle like they're twelve. Frankie takes about a million pictures, and Gerard talks about direwolves for like ten minutes straight until Frankie's sure he's coming up with a movie plot on the fly. Or talking about Game of Thrones. Frankie still hasn't made it through all fifty thousand pages of that series.

"You were right," she tells Gerard when they're walking out the gate past the smelly, oozing pit. "LA essential. Love the smell."

"I'm always right," he replies composedly.

*

One afternoon, Frankie is bored and restless, and she should be doing some photoshop work, but she just doesn't have the patience for it at the moment. It turns out the address for Way Out There Productions is pretty easy to find and not that far from her studio, so she gets in her car and drives over, hoping it's not behind a gate or some shit. She supposes she can text Gerard if that's the case.

She remembers to print out the galleys of the inspiration issue before she walks out the door. Shaun may have sent them already, but in case he hadn't, she did promise to show Gerard the pictures and never followed through.

Turns out, it's not behind a gate, but the door does require a keycard to get in, so she has to text Gerard anyway. Outside your office, come let me in.

She doesn't get a response and just loiters there for a couple of minutes wondering if she should just leave or text him again or what. But then he pops his head out the door and says, "Hi" with a big, bright smile. "What's up?" he asks. "Sorry I took so long, I was on the phone."

"No problem, I was starting to feel like I was reaching the boundary between 'smoking a cigarette' and 'creepy loitering', so - hope this isn't a bad time?"

He shakes his head. "Nah. Come on in. We're kind of between projects. I mean, I'm always working on something, but there's not much specific that needs to happen right now. Come in and meet everyone."

"Awesome. And hey, I brought the proofs from the shoot I did with you. And Grant's stuff, too. I think they turned out pretty good if I do say so myself."

There are a number of people bustling around between different rooms in the building, but Gerard leads her down a hallway and into a large, cluttered office with piles of equipment, several desks, and a tall, curly-haired guy in a Psycho tee shirt. "This is Ray Toro," Gerard tells her. "AKA the reason anything gets done in here. Ray, this is Frankie Iero, my photographer friend."

Ray looks up at her and gives her a friendly smile. "Hey! Nice to finally meet you." Apparently Gerard has been talking about her. She won't lie, the thought makes her feel good.

"Nice to meet you, too! So is it you or Gerard who's responsible for the genius editing in Holy Water Like Cheap Whiskey?"

He beams; he's got a great smile, though she's pretty fond of Gerard's, she's got to say. "Collaborative effort. Most of our stuff is. And that's not just the 'boss is standing here' answer, either," says Ray.

"I'm not your boss," Gerard says patiently, like this happens a lot. "If anything, you're mine."

"He's forgetful. And almost untrainable." Ray pauses, seemingly for effect, then adds, "...that article is done already, right?"

Frankie laughs. "Yeah, and I'm not the writer anyway. I just take the pretty pictures." She winks.

Gerard makes grabby hands at her. "I'm still just taking your word for it that they're pretty. Show me."

She laughs and pulls the folder out of her bag. "Here. If you want any, I can get you some. But if you want any of the ones going into the magazine, you won't be able to share them anywhere."

Gerard spreads the proofs out out over the surface of the nearest table, and he, Ray, and Frankie all gather around to look. "Fuck, Frankie, these are great. I can see why you're so busy with headshots if you make everyone look like this."

"They're great character shots," Ray adds.

"Did you say you had the article galleys, too?" Gerard asks, almost shyly.

"I do, in fact," she says and hands them over.

Gerard is wide-eyed, and it takes him a few moments to start reading. But then he's totally engrossed. It's a good article. Shaun did a great job of pulling out the best bits, talking about Grant and Gerard's careers and similarities. And Gerard hasn't seen the stuff Grant said when he wasn't there. Some of it very complimentary of Gerard indeed, the money quote being, "He may have cited me as his biggest inspiration, but I've found his career just as inspiring for my own writing."

Ray's reading along over Gerard's shoulder, and when they both get to that point, they make nearly identical squeaky noises, and Gerard turns practically scarlet. God, Frankie is so glad she got to show Gerard this article. "We've emailed a couple times back and forth," Gerard tells her excitedly. "He'll be in LA for the winter in like a month. He wants to do dinner. How amazing is that?"

"It's all amazing," Frankie says truthfully.

"Your pictures of him are amazing, too," Gerard adds. "I can't wait to see the rest of the interviews."

"It's a pretty great issue, I think. Lots of interesting people talking to and about each other. Not gonna lie, you guys were my favorites, though," she says.

"Of course, we were," Gerard says smugly. "We're awesome." Frankie laughs and rolls her eyes. Just then, a lanky dude with dark hair comes in carrying three coffees in one of those cardboard carriers. "Mikey, come look at what Frankie brought," Gerard exclaims.

"You'd be Frankie, I guess?" Mikey says. "Think I saw you at a show last week at the Mayan. You look just like Gerard described."

"Hi, Mikey Way," Frankie says, putting out a hand to shake. "Nice to meet you."

Mikey sets the drink carrier down and reaches out to shake Frankie's hand. "Nice to meet you, too."

"Which show were you at? I went to two last week," she says.

"The Souls," he replies.

"Fuck, how great was that show?" Frankie is capable of talking about the Bouncing Souls for long periods of time, which is good because it might take her about that long to distract herself from the information that Gerard described her to his brother at some point.

They talk for a few minutes about the show and how different LA audiences for the Souls are from Jersey audiences and which songs they missed on the setlist until Gerard makes a little impatient noise. Frankie laughs and ruffles his hair. "Fine, fine. I suppose we can let you tell your brother about your hero gushing about you in a national magazine."

"There was gushing? And he's still conscious?" Mikey asks dryly. Frankie likes this kid.

"Mikey," Gerard says and pushes the sheets toward his brother. Mikey's face changes then. He looks genuinely excited and happy for his brother. He quickly hands out the coffees from the tray and apologizes that he didn't get extra.

Frankie laughs. "This was an unscheduled trip. Plus I'm about to ask if I can steal your brother for an hour or two anyway."

"You are?" Gerard asks eagerly.

"Yeah, I was thinking of going to that record store on Sunset you mentioned. If you wanna come with?"

Gerard looks quickly at Ray and Mikey. "Yeah, I can do that today. But first -" he taps the article again, and Mikey picks it up.

They talk for ten or twenty minutes more. Mikey is so proud of Gerard; it's really fucking cute. Frankie tells the others goodbye, and they say again how happy they are to meet her, and she and Gerard head back to the parking lot. "So, you'll have to slum it in my Honda unless you want to take your car," she says.

"I am not That Guy," Gerard protests.

"Whatever, Hollywood," she replies. He shoves her shoulder lightly, and she drops hers and barrels back into him, then slings an arm around his waist. He follows her happily to her car, and she smugly takes control of the stereo and makes him listen to a couple of EPs on the way there.

Frankie didn't realize how much she missed her local record shop where everyone knew her and saved shit they thought she'd like until she walks into this one, and the slightly musty smell of used records hits her. At least she has Gerard. She sighs and leans into him, and he gives her a giant hug in the middle of the jazz section. Then she spots a record she likes and says, "Ooh." He gives her a little squeeze and releases her. "Bitches Brew is the second-best jazz record of all time, and I don't have it on vinyl. Well, I do now."

"Second-best after?" he asks.

"Kind of Blue, duh," she replies.

"You are an interesting person, Frankie Iero," he comments as he follows her around the shop.

"I am awesome," she replies. She grabs a record and hands it to him. "You need this. British proto-Smiths band."

He eyes the record. "Are you sure? I thought I knew every proto-Smiths band."

"You don't know this one," she replies.

"How do you know them?"

"Comes from being awesome."

"Well, okay then. I won't say no," Gerard says. She smirks at him but moves down the aisle. After a few more minutes of browsing and making selections and gushing at each other, they head to the front counter to pay. Frankie plucks the British album out of Gerard's arms.

"On second thought, this is gonna be a present."

He beams at her. "If you insist."

"I do."

On the drive back to Gerard's office, they listen to the EP they didn't get to hear on the way over. "Frankie," he says when she pulls up in front of his building, "cool idea. I'm glad you dropped by. Do it again sometime, okay?"

"I definitely will. And you should drop by my studio, okay?" She impulsively leans over the center console and kisses his cheek. He smiles brightly at her before getting out of the car. She sits there grinning like a fool at nothing for a moment longer before pulling back out onto the street.

*

Frankie wasn't lying about being busy. She tries to keep in touch with Jeremy, but he seems to always be traveling when she's actually home. They have lunch every couple weeks, and finally he pins her down to come to a party with him after she complains that she hasn't changed out of pajamas in a week.

Sweatpants are just really fucking comfortable.

Unsurprisingly, the day of the party is the one time she does have a meeting that makes her venture out of her neighborhood, and she gets stuck on the 110 and is dressed but hasn't done her hair or makeup when he shows up.

"You did this on purpose, didn't you?"

"Maybe. I can't go to a party full of makeup artists not wearing any, and you know you'd do a better job of it than me." She smiles winningly.

"You do all right. Maybe that's just your pretty fucking face being impossible to screw up." He grins and cups her chin in his hand. "Okay, let's go get your stuff."

"You're my favorite," she says.

"Am I? I'm pretty sure that's not true," he replies.

"Okay, you're definitely my favorite makeup artist and obviously my favorite actor." He just laughs. "You have to promise to rescue me if there are any of those weird skin care freaks. They always get weird about my tats. Remember that one time?" she says as he lines her eyes.

He rolls his eyes. "That was one time. Once. And this is mostly monster makeup people. They're less about flawless skin and more about foam latex," he says.

"Wait, you totally didn't tell me this was a monster makeup party," she says.

"Keep your fucking eyes closed," he scolds. "And yeah, I totally did."

"No, you didn't. I'd remember that. That was like, my dream job as a kid."

"I thought your dream job as a kid was to be the next Joan Jett," Jeremy asks as he smooths on what feels like a bizarre number of eyeshadow colors.

"That came a little later, but when I was like, ten, I wanted to do monster makeup. I'd like, use my mom's makeup and lipstick and make myself all grotesque. I'm pretty sure she despaired of me," Frankie says, trying to not twitch her eyelids too much.

"I'd like to meet your mom sometime," Jeremy says. It's weird that he's looking so intently just above her eyes, not at them. She resists making a face to see if he notices. "She must be a saint."

"Pot, kettle," Frankie retorts. "What color are my eyes? Are you going to insist on dressing me, too?"

"Your makeup, or you don't know what color your eyes are? Your eyeshadow is smoky green to complement your shirt and your hazel eyes," he emphasizes, then pauses and looks her up and down, "Do you have flats? Just ditch the chucks, and wear flats, and you'll be fine."

"I do. They're… somewhere," she says.

"Miss Organization doesn't know where something is?" Jeremy teases.

"Fuck you, I just moved."

"A month and a half ago."

Frankie finds her flats and changes her shoes, and they're out the door. Jeremy pulls up outside a… she wouldn't call it a mansion, at least not by LA standards, but it's a really fucking nice house and big, too. "So basically I'm about to find out what an LA house party is like?" she asks.

"With some of the best makeup artists in the industry, yup," he replies. "Also a few other people, I think. Not sure who all got an invite."

They go inside, and Jeremy is immediately accosted by people who know him, so Frankie goes wandering off to find a drink of some sort and to scope out the house. She finds the bar area and gets a beer and looks around curiously at everyone. There's a pretty wide range of people here. A few actor-types she vaguely recognizes and other people she recognizes from the special features of various DVDs. It's kind of weird, but kind of cool.

She ends up talking with a girl in the bar area for a little while, who apparently is a stylist for one of the local news stations, but when she gets tapped on the shoulder by someone else Frankie drifts off. "Hey," she hears from the vicinity of her left shoulder. She turns around and sees Mikey Way.

"Mikey Way!" she exclaims. "And Alicia, too! Didn't expect to see you here. Though now that I think about it, it probably makes sense."

"Yeah, we've worked with a bunch of people here. Gee is around here somewhere. People keep asking him about the next movie and dropping anvil-sized hints about working with us," Mikey explains. "Thank god I'm not the one who has to deal with it."

"You're just good at ignoring it," Alicia tells him. "Hi, Frankie! Still enjoying exploring LA?"

"I've been busy lately," Frankie says. "Couple day trips for shoots. My friend Jeremy was just over, teasing me about not being totally unpacked yet, so of course now I've got to finish and prove him wrong. Also so I don't go insane," she adds with a rueful laugh.

"Oh god, when we moved out here, it was a nightmare," Alicia says. "And we both started working right away, so there was limited unpacking time."

Frankie nods. "I got my studio all unpacked and set up first, so then I sort of ran out of steam for my apartment. But it's coming together."

"Yeah, our animals were pissed when we took the boxes away," Mikey adds.

"Oh man, I haven't gotten there yet," Frankie says. "I haven't had a dog for years. Too much traveling."

"Bummer," Alicia says.

"Yeah, I fucking miss having pets. I'd have like, ten dogs if I could get away with it."

"You could get a tiny dog and be one of those diva-types who takes their dog everywhere," Mikey suggests.

Frankie laughs. "I think I'd have to be significantly more famous for that to actually work."

"Paparazzi famous or used Porsche famous?" a voice says in her ear. She turns around, and Gerard has come up behind her. "I have no idea what we're talking about," he adds with a grin. "Hi, Frankie."

"Hi," she grins back. "So this is my first LA party. It is not happening as advertised. I expected way more deviance."

"Oh, I've been to a couple of those. This is the wrong crowd for it, mostly," he says. "I didn't expect to see you here, though. Deviance or no."

"I said the same thing to Mikey. And I wouldn't be, but you remember Jeremy, the makeup artist for your shoot? He was invited and decided to drag me along," she explains. "And then someone grabbed him, and I haven't seen him since."

"Bummer," Gerard says. "You can hang with us. In fact, I insist."

"I will, then," she says. "He'll turn up again, I'm sure. And then disappear again. He's not like, my date or anything, so it's fine."

"Good," says Gerard. "That you can hang out," he adds, just an awkward beat too late. Frankie's heart thumps funnily for a moment, but Gerard's already directing his next remark to Mikey.

Alicia and Mikey eventually go talk to some people they know, but Gerard sticks by her. When he sees people he knows, he either calls them over or drags Frankie with him to go talk to them. Jeremy does show his face about twenty minutes later looking apologetic.

"Frankie, I'm sorry," he says, kissing her cheek and handing her a beer apologetically. "My friend Carolyn just started working again after her maternity leave. And then I - well, I suck, but I brought you a beer."

"It's cool," she says. "I found company." She smiles at Gerard,

"That you did," Jeremy replies. "Hello, Way. How are you?"

"I'm pretty good. Starting pre-production on my next movie next week," he says.

"I didn't know that!" Frankie says. He smiles at her.

"Yeah, we just got the official studio go-ahead the day before yesterday."

"Fucking awesome." She reaches out and squeezes his shoulder.

"Is the indie favorite working with a major studio now? Or are you sticking to an indie studio?" Jeremy asks.

"It's a major this time," Gerard says, pinking a little with a pleased expression. "Took forever to find the right fit, you know? But this one needs it. Needs the things that I can't do running things out of Way Out There." He tips his head to the side a little, studies Jeremy. "You should give me your number. I can always use good people."

Jeremy digs out his wallet and gives Gerard his card. "I don't have anything major nailed down for the next few months yet, so let me know."

"He also acts," Frankie interjects. "He's really good."

"Frankie," Jeremy moans, covering his face. "I have an agent. Who is not you."

"Oh, shut up," she says. "This is Gerard." Who she talks to at least once a day, and thus has gotten over the starstruck feeling. Mostly. When he's not being brilliant at her. Which sort of happens a lot.

"Gerard values Frankie's opinions," Gerard says amiably. "Also she promised him a cigarette five minutes ago."

"Oh shit, I totally did. Sorry, Gee," she says. "Is there a designated smoking area, or can we just go outside anywhere?"

"Let's just go out front; it'll be quieter," he says.

"Okay. Cigarette time. Don't leave without me or anything. Or tell me, so I can bum a ride," she tells Jeremy.

"Have a little faith in me, asshole," he fires back.

"See you later, Jeremy," Gerard says because apparently his mama raised him right. Frankie's mama raised her right, too, but Mama Iero gave up on trying to give Frankie relationship advice a long time ago, and thus Frankie is where she is now: left with no idea to do with this dude who smiles a crooked smile at her and leans in to light his cigarette off hers and doesn't make a fucking move at all.

They smoke quietly for several moments. It's a nice night. Really nice. If this were Jersey, she'd be wanting about ten layers and be smoking super fast, so she could get back inside and out of the cold as quickly as possible. "I could get used to October in LA," she says. "Though, it'll be weird to have my birthday here."

"When's your birthday, Frankie?" Gerard asks her. She chuckles and sticks her cigarette in the corner of her mouth, then presses her fists together and shows him her knuckles. "Halloween, really?" he breathes. She nods. "You're going to let me do something awesome for you on your birthday this year," he says. Doesn't ask; just says. Then he apparently thinks better of it. "I mean, I'm sure you have plans with other friends, or maybe you're going home, or -"

"It's a date," Frankie interrupts easily. "But I'll definitely be expecting quantifiable awesome."

"I can guarantee it. It's gonna be great. I've got like, ten ideas already, and I still have two weeks to make this happen," Gerard says. She can practically see his mind working and plotting. This is going to be a birthday to remember, she can tell already. She finishes her cigarette and stubs it out, looking around for a place to put it. There's nowhere, so she grimaces and tucks the butt in her pocket. She almost wants to light another, just to stay out here in the quiet with Gerard.

"Are you going back in?" Gerard asks. "Guess I'd better, too. Someone's probably cornered Mikey by now."

She laughs and admits quietly, "I'd sort of rather stay out here."

He smiles at her. "Me, too. C'mon, we can protect each other from the noisy hordes. And maybe find some food? I'm starving. There's got to be some hors d'oeuvres or something somewhere."

It's easier to talk inside - or, that is, not to talk exactly, but to keep her mind occupied, so she's not wondering what exactly is going on with him. She spends most of the rest of the evening with him, letting Jeremy steal her away after Gerard has extracted a promise that he can visit her studio in a few days.

"So you and Way seemed pretty cozy," Jeremy says as he drives her home. "What's up there?"

She groans. "I don't even know right now. We've been talking basically every day, we've hung out, he's taking me out for my birthday."

"Well, in my experience, that all seems to add up to one answer," he replies.

"I don't know," she repeats.

"Do you know if you want to jump his bones?" Jeremy asks.

"I'm not dead," Frankie says vehemently, "I just don't fuck. Like. Indiscriminately."

"That's a yes," Jeremy says, poking his tongue out of his mouth for a moment while he tries to merge onto the freeway.

"That's a 'he hasn't actually made anything in the neighborhood of a move,'" she answers.

"Maybe he's being all respectful and shit and waiting for you to indicate that you want a move to be made," Jeremy suggests. "Stranger things have happened in this town."

She sighs. "Ugh. I can make my own fucking moves," she points out.

"So do it, jesus. Or not. It's up to you. I'm just saying." Frankie has to smile. Jeremy doesn't put up with bullshit. Even when it's hers.

"Yeah, yeah," she says. "Maybe I will. Maybe I'll wait to see what he does. At least until my birthday. I'm pretty sure he's into me. He was a little too happy to hear you weren't my date otherwise."

"I could have been your date," Jeremy points out.

"And he could want to sleep with someone like Grant Morrison, not someone like me, like I was convinced at that photo shoot."

"Maybe he wants to fuck both of you," Jeremy suggests.

"Maybe," Frankie says and picks at some lint on her sweater. "He wants to come visit my studio, and then I have to go to Las Vegas for a couple days. And then...we'll see."

"Waiting and seeing is a fine life policy," Jeremy says. "Up to a certain point. And I know you're smart enough to not let yourself be strung along, so I won't give you any patronizing advice about it."

"You live to be patronizing," Frankie shoots back.

"Only to people who don't hit as hard as you do," he says.

She laughs and then they're pulling up in front of her apartment building. "Call me if there are any developments," he says as she gets out.

"Will do. Thanks for inviting me, Jere."

*

Gerard is supposed to pick her up at her apartment this time, any minute really, and she wishes she had Jeremy there to do her makeup. But she has limits of how much she calls Jeremy for favors because he works his ass off even more than she does. So she does her best and thinks it comes out okay. She does text him pictures of her outfit choices to get his opinion, though. It's hard because Gerard flatly refuses to tell her what they are doing, even when she whines that it's her birthday. She and Jeremy settle on something mostly dressy enough to meet dress code standards at all but the fanciest places and something that won't lead to embarrassment if they do something active.

Gerard is playing the Misfits when she gets in the car. Frankie just listens for a while, tells him about Vegas when he asks, and tries not to get too excited about the signs they start to pass. Finally, they've been on I-5 South for long enough that she can no longer contain herself. "Are you fucking taking me to Disneyland?"

"You've referred to it more than once as the only worthwhile thing about California," he says noncommittally, but his lips twitch. She grins.

"I dunno. I've found a few other things that are pretty great, too. Can't discount that."

"Anyway, I'm still not telling you what we're doing."

She just smiles. "Sure, okay. Just so you know, you have a shitty poker face."

Sure enough, they end up at Disney, but Gerard grumps at her every time she tries to ask where they're going. He even steals her map, folds it up, and sticks it in his back pocket. "Don’t think I won't go after that," she warns him.

"Be my guest," he says. But then she's distracted by all the Halloween decorations. It all looks really fucking great. Not overly scary, but fun nonetheless. He takes her hand as they walk, more an absent-minded leading gesture than anything...maybe. And then she sees what's ahead of them and stops short.

"Oh my god," she says and squeezes his hand tight. "You are my favorite person in the world."

"That's what I was going for," he says. "Come on, let's go in."

There's a line, but Gerard sprang for FastPasses, so they don't have to wait long. He doesn't let go of Frankie's hand. "The Haunted Mansion," she says excitedly. "This is fucking awesome."

"I haven't been in a while, and then it was closed for repairs and shit, so I was really worried it wouldn't be open. But it's here, and so we are, too." He smiles and looks so damn proud of himself, it's adorable. They get to the head of the line, and a cast member points them to a car, and they get in. Frankie presses up against Gerard's side, and he wraps his arm around her shoulders. She holds in a shiver, and the restraint bar comes down. After that it's a whirlwind of Burton and shrieking and laughter.

Frankie can't stop beaming. She feels like a kid. She and Gerard drag each other onto a bunch of other rides and eat a stomach churning variety of food, but they end the night with one more ride through the mansion. She sits close again. It's just as fun as the first time, but she's a little more focused on how Gerard's arm feels wrapped around her.

When the bar lifts, and they get out of the car, Gerard wraps his arm around her waist, and they walk to Main Street for the fireworks. They pass popcorn back and forth and tell fireworks stories in quiet voices as they watch the show, about summers down the shore and roman candles in the street. Gerard keeps her close to his side. Frankie feels a little short of breath.

"This is the best birthday I've had in a long time. Usually I just find a good Halloween party and call it my birthday party," she murmurs and leans her head against Gerard's shoulder.

"I bet your costumes are kickass," he answers back. "You sure it's not boring with just me?"

"Just you is good," she whispers. Frankie is maybe, just maybe, expecting a kiss just now. She's not disappointed. He cups her cheek and leans in. It's a sweet kiss. Almost innocent, except she can feel him holding back.

When he pulls away, he tips his forehead against hers and whispers, "I really, really like you, Frankie Iero."

"Oh good. I really, really like you too, Gerard Way." Her face hurts from smiling.

He pulls back all the way and is giving her a beaming grin. "Good. You're really something, you know that?"

"So are you." It's funny; there have been times in her life when all she wanted was to jump in bed with someone. She doesn't even want that now. She wants to savor this floaty feeling for as long as she possibly can.

They manage to tear their attention away from each other for the grand finale. There's a big orange pumpkin at the end which makes Frankie laugh. They walk back to Gerard's car hand-in-hand. She's kind of glad he had to park way out in the wilds of the parking lot, just so she can keep holding his hand.

They talk a little on the way home, but mostly they just hold hands over the gear shift and listen to the stereo. When they pull up in front of Frankie's apartment, she tugs on his hand and whispers, "One to grow on?" Gerard obligingly leans in for another sweet, lingering kiss. "This really was the best birthday," she tells him. "Thank you."

"I'm really glad," he replies and squeezes her hand.

"I'll call you," she says, leans in and pecks him on the cheek, and forces herself to get out of the car.

*

Gerard calls Frankie late one afternoon and says, "Hey, wanna go to Secret Headquarters with me? I had a meeting, and I'm playing hooky for a bit before going back to the office."

"Of course. Where are you now? Are we meeting there?" Frankie saves her work and snaps her laptop closed. Maybe - okay, definitely - she can talk him into coffee at Intelligentsia, too.

"I am a block from your studio," he says sounding sheepish. She laughs.

"I'll meet you outside, then."

When the Porsche pulls up in front of her building, she hops in and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. Since her birthday last week, Frankie has seen Gerard a couple times, but nothing has progressed any further than it did on Halloween. Maybe it would help if she could stop staring at him like a kid with a crush, reciting He likes me! in her head.

She's enjoying the slow burn, though, and Gerard seems to be enjoying it, too, which makes her feel almost as good as when he takes her hand as they drive. She's never been more thankful for the invention of the automatic transmission. Though she has to tease him for having an automatic in a sports car. "I just like pretty things," he says, raising an eyebrow at her meaningfully. Her face flushes, but she smiles at him.

"Hey, me too."

Inside, she's squirming. Frankie has spent the last ten years of her life being tough, living out of a duffel bag and saving pennies and dealing with disgusting conditions and dudes who didn't respect her (and some who did) and making her name. Her deep dark secret is that she's a romantic, and it's been a long, long time since she felt like that was a side of her she could indulge and still be herself. She squeezes Gerard's hand again. Just because she can.

Gerard's a regular at SHQ, and he spends some time chatting with the guy behind the counter - who brings a stack of comics out from the back room as soon as he sees Gerard. Frankie browses the new books on the wall and pulls a few things she's been meaning to pick up, poking around in the rack of indie stuff for some things to send back to Jersey for Shaun, who collects self-published books. She joins in the tail end of Gerard's conversation, and as he's paying for the stuff from his box, she suggests coffee.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Gerard says.

When they get to the coffee shop, they order and find a cozy corner, and Frankie goes through Gerard's pile of comics. "Oh man. I'm so behind since the move. I read the first few issues of Batman Inc. I need to get the rest. And probably just set up a box somewhere."

"He'll be in town this week," Gerard says. Frankie's confused for a moment until she puts it together. Grant. "He already emailed me about dinner on Thursday."

"Oh, a date," Frankie teases.

Gerard blushes and shakes his head. "Nah. I've got this girlfriend I'm pretty into." He bites his lip, clearly nervous about the "girlfriend" thing.

"I'm sure your girlfriend appreciates that," Frankie says. Her stomach is doing flips.

"I hope my girlfriend appreciates...that is, there have been boyfriends in the past, and I don't think that's what Grant is after. But someone else got there first." He links their fingers together.

"Gee. That's. Not a problem at all. Thanks for telling me." She can't stop smiling at him and leans forward for a kiss.

He tastes like espresso, and she's pretty sure he doesn't mean to make the little noise he does. Yeah, okay, Frankie might be getting a little impatient, too. She doesn't really want to pull back, but they're in public, so she does and grins at him. "So I wasn't wrong in thinking you were crushing on him when we did the photoshoot."

"I'd have said yes in a heartbeat if he'd asked for a real date - then. But that was then." Gerard shrugs. "Then there was this hot girl bossing me around, and I got sort of...distracted."

"You're such a sweet talker," she says with a laugh.

"You love it," he retorts.

"Gerard -" She stops and just stares at him. She wants this ridiculous creature so fucking bad.

He can probably see it on her face because he says, "I really do need to go back to the studio this afternoon. I can't get out of it." He sounds like he's trying to convince himself.

"Yeah, I have work to do, too. Call me later?" She feels crazy and silly and so fucking into him.

"Definitely. Wanna have lunch tomorrow? I'd say dinner, but Grant..."

"No, it's totally fine. Lunch is great," she assures him.

*

Gerard calls her on the way home from the dinner with Grant. "He's having a party for all his LA friends tomorrow night and invited me. You wanna come with?"

"Wanna come to Grant Morrison's house to meet his friends? What do you think?" she teases.

"Okay, good," he says. "When I told him we were dating, he said, and I quote, 'Very good. Someone of quality needed to snatch her up. I'm glad it was you.'"

"Ugh, he's so nice," Frankie exclaims. "I thought I'd give Shaun a heart attack with the way I talked to him, but he liked my sense of humor. Some people," she intones, "apparently don't get it. Grant did. I like him."

"He's really great. It'll be really fun to all be together in person," he says.

"Yeah, it will. What time tomorrow?" she asks.

"Party starts at eight, so I could be at your place at seven thirty? His house is up in the Hills."

"Dressy?" she asks nervously.

"Maybe? I don't think Grant cares much. Tonight he was wearing an insanely patterned shirt. Like, almost a Hawaiian shirt, and we went to a pretty nice restaurant." Gerard laughs. "Seriously, it was nuts. I aspire to that level of not giving a shit. Anyway, he didn't like, specify. There will probably be a pretty broad range."

"Okay. I'll figure something out," she says and gets up from where she's sitting on her bed and goes to look in her closet.

"I'm sure you'll be gorgeous, whatever you wear," Gerard says.

"And have the best-looking date," she murmurs. "You home yet, babe?"

"Almost. Another mile or so. Just pulling off 10 now," he replies. "Why?"

"Just wondering if you called me as soon as you walked out of the restaurant. It's pretty late. You two must have talked a lot."

"We did. About comics and film and music and everything in between. Grant told me about some of his screenplays, and seriously, I don't fucking know why Hollywood won't make one of his movies. The ideas are all genius."

"You could make one of them," she suggests.

Gerard makes an incoherent noise. "I can't...god, it's not like I haven't thought about it, but I don't know if we're big enough for what he deserves."

"Well, you've got Warner backing you for your next movie. Maybe if that goes well you can get a studio to finance something bigger. You know. No pressure or anything."

"Oh god," Gerard groans.

"Hey, it's a goal, right? But you're you, and your movie will do fine because of that," Frankie says reassuringly.

"I wish I could see you right now," Gerard says.

"On a school night?" Frankie affects shock.

"Every night," he repeats.

"Yeah, me too," she replies. "Tomorrow night isn't so long to wait."

"Well, then I will be," Gerard's voice is warm.

"Waiting?" she asks.

"Yes. Though don't expect me to be patient about it," he replies. She laughs.

"Patience: not expected. Got it."

"I should go now," Gerard says reluctantly. "I'm home."

Frankie says goodbye with something warm curling in her gut. She takes a deep breath, throws her phone on her bed, and stares into her closet. There must be something she can wear to the party of an eccentric comic author who has lots of interesting and talented friends.

*

Frankie gets dressed carefully the next evening. When she moved to LA, she never thought twice about her wardrobe. She still doesn't really care about it ninety percent of the time. Tonight she's glad she had discovered this dress lurking in the back of her closet. It's just a simple black dress, something one of her girlfriends back home insisted she buy because, "it looks amazing on you, and you can wear it to almost anything. Dress it up or down with your accessories. It's a wardrobe staple, Frankie."

Frankie had sighed and winced at the price but bought it anyway. It does look pretty good on her, halter neck that shows off her chest piece, nipped in at the waist, and a fairly full skirt. Jayne had called it rockabilly, whatever the fuck that meant. Frankie throws on clunky black boots and an armful of bracelets and calls it done. She's still dabbing at her makeup when her doorbell rings.

She finishes up, snaps a picture, and texts it to Jeremy with See, I can do it by myself! I think and goes to get the door. When she opens it, Gerard appears to be smoothing out his jacket, and it takes him a second to look up at her.

"Frankie," he breathes.

"Yeah, I know. I can't believe it either, but apparently I own dress clothes," she says nervously.

"Frankie," he repeats. "You look beautiful. Look at all your tattoos."

She swallows down her nervousness and smiles at him. "Thank you."

Gerard takes a deep breath. "Okay, we should go. Or I. Um. God, Frankie. Those tattoos."

She grabs her bag and steps out the door, closing and locking it behind her. Because if she doesn't, with the way he's looking at her, she'd totally let him push her back into her bedroom and get up close and personal with them.

Going to a party with Gerard as her date is about as different as going to a party with Jeremy as her not-date as it could be. Gerard doesn't leave her side. Gerard doesn't look like he could even be bribed to leave her side or stop touching her, and she's really surprisingly okay with that. It's not a possessive thing, really - just. Well, admiring. Fascinated. It's also a smaller crowd that runs the gamut from people she's never seen or heard of to...well, Trent fucking Reznor, for one. And Grant is very much in evidence, playing the host and circulating to everyone in the room. When he gets to them, his face lights up.

"Oh, I'm so glad you both came," he says and leans forward to kiss Frankie's cheek. "Especially you. I meant to get your information for my next publicity shots but completely forgot."

She grins at him. "Well, you can have it. I think I probably even have some cards somewhere. Or you can just get it from Gerard."

"I shall do that," Grant says. "It's really delightful to see you," he adds. "I must admit, I thought of you quite often. Gerard, your correspondence was also delightful, though I do think I preferred sharing a meal with you and talking in person." He smiles.

"Definitely," Gerard says. "Last night was a lot of fun. You'll have to tell Frankie about your bands sometime. I think she'd get a kick out of it."

"You were in bands?" she asks.

"Oh yes. Several. I have so many ridiculous stories." He has a twinkle in his eye as he says it, and Frankie doesn't doubt him a bit.

"I'd like to hear them all," she says. "Honestly."

"Well, that would take some time, but perhaps just one right now. It's about my friend Gordie and his missing guitar and a bit of tarot magic."

And then he launches into the story, and she laughs and by the end is totally caught up in this story about a missing guitar and Grant using fucking magic to help find it again. In turn, she tells one of her many tour stories which sparks Gerard to remember a story of his own, and they stand there talking for who knows how long.

At some point, someone gets Grant's attention, and he makes an apologetic face. "I'm so sorry. I really do want to stay and talk with the two of you."

"Tough to be so popular," Frankie teases him.

He laughs. "A trial." He takes his leave of them with a hand on Gerard's shoulder and the press of his fingers against Frankie's wrist.

After he's gone, Gerard looks at her, tucks a stray curl of hair behind her ear, and asks, "Smoke break?"

"Definitely," she responds. He looks around and pulls her to a sliding glass door that goes out onto a small balcony overlooking the valley. She lights her cigarette, and he lights his off hers, and this time, unlike at the other party, there's no confusion at all. No wondering if this is going to lead anywhere. She knows it will. Possibly even tonight.

"Wish my place had a view like this," Gerard says after a moment.

"Doesn't it? I bet it's nice," Frankie says. "But you've seen it, and I haven't, so -" She slants him a teasing look.

"You haven't been over yet," Gerard remembers. "Well, we'll have to fix that." He lifts the hand not holding the cigarette and tucks the same strand of hair behind her ear again.

"Is that a move, Gerard Way?" she murmurs. "Are you getting your moves from Jesse Eisenberg movies?"

Gerard stubs out his cigarette in the flower box hanging from the railing. "Maybe they got them from me." He tugs her closer until she can feel how warm he is, feel the press of his hips through her skirt.

"Maybe you should -" She breaks off with an indrawn breath as he tilts his head and leans in to kiss her neck.

"You're so beautiful," Gerard murmurs against the skin. "I've never seen most of this ink. I just want to stare."

Frankie exhales and stubs her cigarette out next to his. "Is that all?"

He wraps a hand around the back of her neck and pulls their mouths together. It's like any of their other kisses; just as sweet, filled with the promise of more. Except this one is more than a promise. It's a challenge. Follow me, it says.

Frankie sinks her hands into Gerard's hair and follows, lips and tongues pressing and tangling, hands skimming down Gerard's chest, slipping under his leather jacket to rest against the small of his back.

His hands skim up her sides, just barely brushing her breasts, then back down to her waist, pulling her against him as he kisses down her throat. He's hard now. She can feel it, and she pushes her own hips against him, tipping her head back to give him room at her throat. She can feel a little press of teeth every so often, and it's making her feel wild. Gerard's hands are touching her everywhere, and she can't hold back a moan when he seeks out her breasts with more purpose. His fingers brush the sides, tease under just the slightest bit before cupping her cheeks and kissing her again.

"Wanted you since...I laid eyes on you," Gerard pants against her lips. Frankie slips her fingers under the hem of his shirt to brush against the skin there.

"Yeah," she agrees. "I see beautiful people every day. You still stood out." She moves her lips to his ear, nipping the lobe before tracing it with her tongue. "This is not the place," she reminds him, and he laughs breathlessly. "And we haven't been here that long. It'd be a bit rude to leave," she goes on. She can't seem to stop touching him, though.

"Can we..." Gerard trails off when Frankie slides her hands up his back under his shirt.

"You're coming home with me, or I'm going home with you. I don't care which," she says and forces herself to pull back.

"We can figure it out later, but I'm closer," he says, tracing his finger along the halter strap of her dress. Then someone else opens the door to the balcony, and they both look up with what are probably guilty expressions.

They just get a laugh and a "Right, I'll come back later." Frankie giggles.

"No, don't worry about it. We were just going back inside."

"No hurry," the stranger says. "Nice spot for a smoke." He lights up and leans against the railing.

"It really is," Frankie says and turns back toward the view. Gerard wraps himself around her and rests his chin on her shoulder.

"I won't ask how you know our Grant," The stranger asks, expelling a stream of smoke. "I read the article, and I recognize you, Way. Nice piece."

"Glad you enjoyed it. I think it was mostly Shaun, the writer, and Frankie here making us look good in the photos," Gerard says and laughs. "For one thing, I know I was nowhere near as coherent as the article makes me sound." He holds out a hand. "But it's nice to meet you, -"

"Absolutely. Richard Metzger," he shakes Gerard's hand and reaches out to Frankie.

"Frankie Iero."

Richard smiles and takes another drag of his cigarette. "Charmed," he says. "You ought to go mingle, you two. We like fresh meat." He winks.

Gerard laughs. "Who can argue with that?"

They go back inside. Frankie finds the bathroom to make sure she doesn't look too... debauched, but it turns out Gerard was careful of her hair, and her makeup isn't smudged in the slightest. She checks her phone and sees that Jeremy has responded. Shock and awe. You look great, kid. What's the occasion?

At a party with Gerard. At Grant Morrison's house, she taps back.

She gets back a LOL of course and shakes her head, tucking her phone away. When she rejoins the party, Gerard is easy to spot. There are only about thirty people in the room. Frankie recognizes the woman Gerard is talking to as Colleen Atwood and hurries over to join them, arriving at the same time as Grant splits off from another group and does the same thing. Grant spots her and winks. Gerard is so engrossed in his conversation with Colleen that he doesn't notice either of them for a moment. When he does, he wraps his arm around Frankie's waist and pulls her close.

"Colleen, this is my girlfriend, Frankie Iero."

"The photographer?" Colleen asks.

"Yes," Frankie smiles. "So nice to meet you. We know so many of the same people."

"And she's brilliant," Gerard gushes.

"That, too," Frankie adds with a smile for Colleen.

Grant laughs. "I collect you."

"One of his favorite pastimes," Colleen says.

"I'm especially pleased with these additions to my collection, though." Grant grins cheekily.

Gerard's fingers tap a happy rhythm against her waist. "Well, I can't deny I'm pretty pleased to be added to such a collection." Frankie stretches to kiss his cheek.

"He's susceptible to flattery," she teases. Gerard flushes a little bit.

"Yes, well."

"It's okay, I'm pretty happy to be here, too," she says, looking at Grant and smiling. She turns back to Colleen. "I loved the costuming on Sleepy Hollow so much, but I pretty much love everything you do."

Frankie gets so caught up in conversation with Colleen that she loses track of Gerard and Grant's conversation. Gerard keeps a hand on her waist, though, a small line of contact. Colleen takes her leave, but not before getting Frankie's contact information. "I do sometimes find myself in need of a photographer," she says.

"Please, call me anytime," Frankie tells her sincerely. Then Frankie turns back to Gerard and Grant. Gerard is gesticulating with his other hand.

"I just want to get stuff that's fuckin' weird and subversive into the public consciousness. I read an interview with you from like, the early 2000s where you called for more lo-fi weirdness. I loved that."

Frankie laughs. "That sounds like your movie genre, Gee. You two could have your own section at Barnes and Noble. I'd spend all my money there," she grins.

"Now who's flattering?" Gerard asks. But he's grinning and leans in to kiss her quick.

"I didn't get kisses for flattery," Grant points out dryly. "This system is flawed." Before either of them can say anything or really parse out that statement, Grant starts telling them a story about a convention he went to in the Nineties, and a nearby guest, who turns out to be Jim Lee, chimes in. This is officially the best party LA could offer. Now she wants to have Grant just tell her who everyone in the room is.

This time it's Frankie who finds herself talking to Grant as Jim starts asking Gerard a series of questions about his last movie. "I'd make you introduce me to the entire room if I wasn't sure I'd be too paralyzed by stage fright to talk," Frankie confesses. He smiles.

"I'm sure you'd be fine. You're frequently in contact with people more famous than anyone in this room."

"Grant, there's at least one Oscar winner in this room," she says.

"And look at what a lovely conversation you had with her," Grant says.

"Not to mention," Frankie adds, leaning in conspiratorially, "just because they're more famous doesn't mean I actually want to hang out with them."

"And you do with me?" he asks.

"Any, any time," she replies. He beams at her and reaches out to clasp her shoulder.

"I feel the same about you, Frankie. And Gerard."

"I'm going to consider that an invitation to dinner with the both of you next time," Frankie says.

"And you say you have stage fright," Grant teases her.

"I got all my nervousness with you out at the photoshoot," she says.

"Oh, is that what all that sass was?" he asks with a sly grin.

"Most people find me charming," Frankie retorts.

"Oh, you are. It's just a very sassy brand of charm," he says.

"Gerard called me bossy within five minutes of meeting me," Frankie confesses, and Grant laughs.

"The director in him talking, I'm sure."

"And the oldest child," Gerard says, rejoining the conversation. "You can boss me around anytime," he whispers in her ear, not quite quiet enough to keep Grant from hearing.

She blushes but leans in and whispers back, "And you can direct me." Grant looks very amused by them.

"When are we doing dinner, Frankie love?" he says.

"Astonishingly enough, I don't have any evening shoots scheduled all next week. So whenever the two of you are available works for me," she replies.

Gerard strokes his thumb over her side in such a way that she shivers just a tiny bit. "I'm speaking for those free evenings now," he says. "But maybe Tuesday for dinner?"

"Tuesday it is," Grant says. "We could meet here?"

"Sure," Frankie says and then smiles. "I was so afraid I'd be completely miserable living here. That's turning out to not be true just because of the people here."

"That's why I keep coming back," Grant says. "Well, that and the Scottish winters."

"Oh god, I am not going to miss Jersey winters. At all. Honestly, I get cold pretty easily, so even here I'll probably be bundled up when everyone else is in light jackets," she says ruefully.

"You cold now, baby?" Gerard asks and wraps his arms more fully around her.

"I was feeling a little chilly, yes," she says and leans back into the circle of his arms. Grant watches them, completely unfazed. They're being so ridiculous. She's afraid they're being every new couple cliche that has ever made her eyes roll, but she can't say she's ever felt quite like this, either.

"I know we can't take up all your time," Gerard says, "So if we, ah, have to leave at some point, I'll just say thank you now. For the invite."

Grant gives him a look that says "and I know precisely why you'd be leaving" but says, "You're very much welcome. The pleasure was all mine, I assure you, and I'm very glad we've made a dinner date because just this evening is not nearly enough time with you both."

Frankie feels like blushing again. She's not sure where this is all coming from. She is so not the girly type. But Gerard's arms are around her, and this conversation is just reminding her that soon they're going to leave and go to one of their places. And she hasn't had sex in a really fucking long time. Grant gets dragged away a few minutes later, sure enough. Gerard and Frankie look at each other.

"My place?" he murmurs in her ear.

"Yes," she says emphatically. "Please."

"Okay," he replies, and they start making their way toward the door. They get stopped a couple of times, but soon they're out the door and walking toward Gerard's car hand-in-hand.

Frankie is not a girl who is particularly known for her patience, but something about the car ride to Gerard's is charged, electric. Sort of amazing. Frankie chatters about how cool Colleen Atwood is, and Gerard gushes about how nice Jim Lee was and then he's pulling up to gate and punching in his code. He parks, and when they round the hood of the car, he takes her hand again. "How are you, Gee?" she murmurs as they walk to Gerard's door.

"Frankie, I am really, really good," he says. "And I'm really glad you're here. You? Is... are you okay?" She can hear the unspoken Are we moving too fast? Do we need to slow down? in his tone.

"Let's go inside. I want a tour," she says, pressing close. He smiles down at her, tugs her over to the door. He unlocks it, and they go inside. She has to smile. It's all so very Gerard. From the art on the walls to the furniture to the piles of scripts and DVDs sitting on the coffee table. It's eclectic and interesting, and she already loves it.

"Living room, kitchen, office back there," he gestures. "It's messy, I know, but I've been busy doing more interesting things." He tugs her close, and Frankie tugs his face down to hers.

"I love it," she says and kisses him. His hands go to her waist, and he holds her close.

Frankie pulls back and looks at his face. She can see there how much he wants her, see all his affection for her right there. "You should show me your bedroom now."

"Yeah?" he says. "I've been wanting to hear that. A lot."

"Show me," she repeats, and he draws her toward the stairs. There's a guest bedroom and bathroom at the top of the stairs and then the master at the end of the hall. It's better decorated than her own, sleek modern furniture and rich colors. "It's gorgeous," she says.

"Alicia and Mikey like IKEA," Gerard says. "And me. And that will officially be the last time I mention my family while we're in here." Frankie chuckles.

"Come here," she tells him softly. He steps in front of her, his hands in loose fists at his sides. "God, Gee," she whispers and wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him again. This time slow and really fucking dirty.

"I don't know where to put my hands," he mumbles into her mouth.

"Here's a hint...everywhere," Frankie tells him. "Please, Gerard." He settles them on her waist like he has before, and she almost protests that she meant other places, but then they slide down to her ass. She swallows that and just keeps kissing him.

He tugs her hips close, making throaty noises of pleasure as she sinks her hands into his hair. He's hard again, and she's wet, can feel her body tense under his hands. Gerard shifts his mouth to her neck and collarbone, hands slipping up to seek out the zipper on her dress . "Need to see you."

"Yes," she gasps. He pulls down on the zip slowly, and she turns, so he can undo the halter top. Then she steps out of the dress and turns back around to face Gerard.

Standing in front of Gerard in nothing but panties and boots doesn't feel stupid. She feels like she could tame lions. "You're behind," she says throatily.

"Fuck, Frankie," Gerard says. "Wanna touch you."

"Let's get your clothes off," she says and toes off her boots and steps into Gerard's space. She pushes his jacket off his shoulders and reaches for the hem of his shirt. "Arms up," she directs and pulls it over his head. "That's a little more even," she says, trailing her fingertips over pale, lightly muscled skin. "Look at you."

"You are -" Gerard kicks off his own shoes and backs up the several steps to the bed, sits, and tugs her until she's straddling his lap. Then he lets his fingers explore. He trails his fingers over her clavicle, down her chest piece, and across her stomach. He traces the lines of the letters there, the outlines of the birds before moving back up to cup her breasts. He stares at them for a moment, then brushes his thumbs over her nipples, and they harden immediately. "So beautiful," he says, lowering his head to take one between his lips.

He's being so careful that Frankie feels like she'll die of not-enough. Still, even the delicate press of his tongue and the gentle suction is enough to make her gasp and grind down against his thigh. "Gee. God," she says and laces her fingers through the hair at the back of Gerard's neck, tight but not tight enough to hold him where he is. She wants to see what he'll do. Right now, he's swirling his tongue around her nipple, and oh god, it feels so good. She gets her legs on either side of his thighs, enough to press their hips together. The denim of his jeans rasps deliciously against her thighs. "Take your pants off," she whispers in his ear, biting at the lobe then sucking.

He moans around her nipple and pulls back just enough to whisper, "But then I have to stop doing this." He slides his tongue across her chest and takes her other nipple in his mouth. She moans and tightens her fingers in his hair.

"Gee, come on, it's been so long, I need -" He bites the curve of her breast, just hard enough to make her gasp.

"You're tiny, Frankie, but I still want my mouth on all of you."

She squirms, trying to get more friction, and he bites again and tightens his arms around her and lifts. Suddenly she's on her back, and Gerard is mouthing his way down her torso, tongue exploring her tattoos like his fingers did earlier. This is when she learns that he's a biter which should not surprise her based on the smoking, and the fingernail chewing, and the fucking vampire films, but fuck, nothing really prepared her for stinging little bites to her stomach and hips. Then his mouth finds her inner thighs, and she groans, twisting her hands even harder in his hair.

"Fuck," she gasps. He spends what feels like forever on her thighs, licking and biting and sucking. "Fuck, Gee. Please," she begs. He chuckles.

"Please what, gorgeous?"

"You know. Please," she groans. Finally he moves, pressing the flat of his tongue against the wet spot on her panties, his warm breath coming through just a little bit and making her squirm. And then he hooks a finger through them and pulls them aside, fucks into her with his tongue, and then goes for her clit. "Gee," she squeaks.

He doesn't answer, of course - his mouth is a little busy right now, but his hands curl around the waistband of the panties, tugging them down her legs and off, then going back to her thighs, pushing her legs apart and flicking her clit with his tongue while he fucks her with two fingers, then, when she starts shifting her hips restlessly, three. He does that until she's whining and writhing and then switches to suction, and she comes fast enough to surprise even herself, clenching around his fingers and dropping her head back against the mattress.

"Gee, fuck," she says and opens her eyes to look up at him. He's grinning at her.

"Good, Frankie?" he asks.

"Fucking. Yes. Take your pants off," she says.

"Bossy," he returns, but he stands and gets his belt undone and pushes his pants and underwear down his thighs.

"Gee, if you don't fuck me soon, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna explode," she tells him.

"Ditto, babe," Gerard says breathlessly. He kneels on the bed and holds himself above her with one hand, while reaching over to his nightstand to get a condom with the other. Frankie runs her hands up his chest and down his sides and wraps a hand around his cock. He moans and hands her the condom.

"For me?" she teases breathlessly.

"All for you," he tells her, biting his lip as she strokes him a few more times, then rips the packet open, and rolls the condom on him. He's breathing heavily - well, so is she - and presses his forehead against her breastbone, licking at the curves of her breasts before shifting back, taking his cock in hand, and pushing in. "Fuck, Frankie, you're so fucking -"

"What?" she gasps.

"Hot, wet, fuck, you feel perfect."

She wraps her legs around his waist and urges him to move, to really fuck her. He starts moving. Going maddeningly slowly. She whimpers. "Wanna savor you," he whispers against her chin. "Feel every movement." He kisses down her neck and takes one of her nipples in his mouth again. She arches up into his mouth, then curls her arms around him, grabbing onto his ass and grinding up into him. Slowly. Two can play that game.

They move together, getting into slow, steady rhythm. "Fuck, Gee. You feel so fucking good. God, it's been so long," she says and clenches around him. He moans against her and moves his mouth to her other breast. "Love your mouth," she tells him, arching up against him again.

He braces his hands on either side of her, fucking her with short, hard thrusts of his hips while he sucks marks across her breasts and collarbones. Then she twists a hand into his hair and tugs his mouth back up to hers. "More," she begs, and he wraps his arms around her waist and rolls them, letting her settle astride him and push herself up. She groans as it pushes him even deeper. "Perfect," she gasps. "Fuck, you're huge."

Gerard just bites his lip and urges her to bend down a bit, so he can get his mouth on her again. She's going to have so many hickeys, and she doesn't fucking care. She just moves her hips, fucks herself on his cock, grinds down and clenches around him, lifts up, and then does it again and again. Gerard tangles his fingers in the sides of her hair and pulls her face back down to his, licking into her mouth again as he fucks up into her. They've lost rhythm now, and she can feel his fingers tighten and release in her hair, mouth drifting down to press against her throat, and she can feel his breath, the desperate one-two thrusts of his hips as he gasps out her name and comes.

She's almost ready to come again herself and reaches down to rub her clit, but Gerard bats her hand away and does it for her, his strokes firm and just the right amount of pressure, and god, the feeling of him still inside her is enough to push her over the edge, and she's coming again. Frankie gasps and shudders and then collapses against his chest. He runs his fingers through her hair for a moment, and she clenches her muscles a few times, tentative, still feeling the waves of sensation deep inside. He whimpers, oversensitized, and she wriggles obligingly until she can lift off and curl up next to him instead.

"So we're going to do that again in a couple of hours. And then a lot. All of the time. I'm gonna make so many booty calls to you," she murmurs.

He laughs. "Then I guess it's a good thing our jobs can be a little flexible sometimes, isn't it?"

"I'll show you flexible," she says.

"Bring it on," he murmurs back. "In a little while, okay?" She's already slipping into post-orgasm drowsiness and just barely registers him shifting away from her to deal with the condom. Then he's back, tugging his comforter up over them both and resting his chin on top of her head.

"Okay," she mumbles, then sighs contentedly and falls asleep.

*

Gerard gets to her apartment early to pick her up for dinner with Grant, and she's not ready yet. She doesn't even have pants on, but when she sees it's Gerard, she just lets him in. He backs her against the wall and starts kissing her neck, hands wandering all over her body, then down the front of her panties.

"Fuck, Gee," she gasps.

"That's the idea," he says against her throat. He lifts her onto the entry table; she's glad it's sturdy and not an Ikea special. He gets a condom out of his pocket, and fuck, it's hot that he planned this; he rolls it down his cock, pulls her underwear aside, and slides into her. "Been forever," he mumbles. It's been two days, but Frankie agrees.

Gerard fucks her hard and fast, and it feels so goddamn good. He uses his thumb to rub her clit and tugs her shirt down and her bra aside to get his mouth on one of her nipples. She chants his name against his temple as he works her with his cock and fingers and comes just as hard, gasping. Frankie clenching around him, shuddering against his body, is all it takes to make him come, too. He thrusts into her one last time, deep and hard, and bites down on the top of her breast. It's going to leave a mark, but she doesn't care.

"Goddamn, Gee. You messed me all up." She says, stroking her hands up and down his back.

"Is that a complaint?"

"Fuck no. That was fucking perfect. Gonna feel you the rest of the night."

"Until round two," he smirks.

Frankie laughs. "Until round two. Also, you're fucking lucky this is a good table." He chuckles and pulls her bra gently back over her breast, stroking his hands through her hair as he gently pulls out. She sucks in a breath. He leans down to kiss her slow and sweet and then helps her down from the table. "For the record," she says, "You can do that basically anytime."

"Go get dressed," Gerard says with a final kiss. "Grant is waiting."

Frankie goes back into her room and debates for a minute between the low-cut shirt that will definitely show off Gerard's hickeys or something more sensible. She wants to know how he reacts to seeing them, though. She's pretty sure it'll mean round two will be really fucking good. And the look Gerard gives her when she hurries back into the room and grabs her bag is definitely worth it. Plus, well, Grant is pretty hot. Might as well look as good as the guys.

Gerard grabs her around the waist and hauls her in for a kiss. "Okay. Grant's place. Dinner."

Frankie drives this time, Gerard murmuring directions when she hesitates. She's getting better at navigating, although she didn't expect to have to remember how to get to Grant's house. Grant greets them at the door.

"Who is driving?" Grant asks.

"Me," Frankie says. She got a glimpse of his car as they pulled into the driveway. "Unless you have a sedan hiding in the back of your garage somewhere. I may be small, but the back seats of sports cars are not made for actual humans."

Grant laughs. "Excellent point, my dear."

Gerard lets Grant have the front seat, but he keeps leaning forward and talking in Frankie's ear as she drives. It makes her smile and shiver. Grant directs them to his favorite Indian restaurant.

"Wonder if they still remember my name?" He muses.

"How could they forget?" Frankie asks.

Grant laughs. "Frankie, you are a delight." She grins at the stoplight in front of her and turns down the street, then makes another turn into the parking lot. It's not a terribly nice looking building, but she trusts Grant's judgement.

Gerard comes and opens the car door for her, so she pins him against the side for a kiss. He deserves it for practically licking her ear for the entire drive. Gerard's hands sneak their way onto her ass, and he grinds up against her a little bit, then Frankie steps back and grins at him. "I don't think Grant came for a show, babe."

She hears Grant chuckle from the other side of the car. Gerard just stares at her for a minute and then smiles wide. "Food. Conversation. Friends. Lead the way, sir," he says to Grant, taking Frankie's hand.

Grant leads them inside, and the host immediately calls out his name. "Grant, finally returned to us!"

"Told you," Frankie whispers.

"Sass," Grant whispers back. Frankie just grins. Grant turns to the host and says, "Yes, and one of my first acts upon returning to Los Angeles for the winter was to come here and bring two friends with me." At this point nearly every employee in the restaurant is there greeting him. Granted, it's a small place. But they get tucked away in a cozy, private corner, and Frankie finds herself smiling at Grant over a menu.

"It's all vegetarian!" she exclaims.

"It is. I'm a vegetarian myself. Been for quite some time," Grant says.

Frankie nods. "For me it's partly stomach issues. My system hates meat, but mostly it's ethical. I just can't bring myself to eat it. Anyway, I appreciate vegetarian restaurants a lot."

"Frankie, what will I like?" Gerard asks.

"Poor meat eater," she teases, leaning over to study the menu with him. He sneaks a kiss. "Do you like spinach?" she asks. He nods. "Then get the palak paneer. It's one of my favorites."

Grant orders them mango lassis and tells them about the first time he had a lassi in India. "You've traveled so much," Gerard says. "I feel like I got such a late start on that."

"As did I," Grant says. "I was a straight-laced young man, you know. Well, perhaps not entirely straight." He chuckles.

Gerard laughs. "I was never particularly straight-laced, myself. Or straight for that matter. I got started pretty early on booze and pills."

"Until I was thirty, I hadn't had a sip of alcohol, and I had no idea what to do with girls. Boys were a little easier. Probably because I was at an all boys secondary school." Grant winks at Frankie. "I've since discovered the joys and pains of both alcohol and girls."

Frankie pauses for effect. "I went to Catholic school." Grant tips his head back and laughs. Gerard giggles too, but he's turning red, and Frankie leans, making sure to press her breasts against him and murmurs, "And my uniform still fits, too."

Gerard makes a choked-off noise. "Go sit next to Grant," he says sternly. "Tease."

Frankie subsides back against her side of the booth with a smirk and sips her lassi. Grant is grinning at her, his eyes dancing. She's sure Gerard will retaliate in some way. She's looking forward it. "In all seriousness, I didn't really get to start traveling until the last couple of years. I'm going to London for three weeks in December, and I'm really excited about it. I've been before, but I never had time to do much. I have a few more free days this time." As she expects, they both have plenty of suggestions. "Too bad you can't come with me," she says. "It'll be just me for most of the time. Maybe I can bribe the locals I'll be working with to take me out."

"I don't think you'll have any difficulty there, Frankie ," Grant says.

"Probably not. But now I'll be wishing it was you and Gee the whole time," she says.

"Well, the next time I have a premiere to attend in London, you're coming with me," Gerard tells her.

"You start a new project soon, yes?" Grant asks.

"Yeah. My first major studio film. I'm nervous as hell," Gerard says and runs a hand through his hair.

"You'll be fine," Grant tells him confidently.

"Frankie didn't know she was signing on for my new-project insanity," Gerard says ruefully, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

"I think I'll be okay." She flips her hand over and laces their fingers together. "And you get to deal with me when I'm getting ready for a major trip. And this major shoot I have coming up." She describes it a bit more, and Grant grins crookedly.

"I'd say to picture them all in their underwear," Grant offers.

"Sometimes they are," Frankie replies. "Especially the fashion stuff, and sometimes I dabble in some alternative fashion photography which is fun."

"You didn't shoot me in my underwear," Grant teases. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Next time," Frankie says. "It can be a follow-up issue. Tagline, 'now creators and their heroes experience the great leveler of seeing each other in their underwear.'"

Gerard laughs. "Editorial is definitely missing something there."

"I'll talk to some people. See what we can do," Frankie says. Then their meal comes, and they're all oohing and ahhing over how good it is and trying each others' food. The rest of the meal flies by. They talk about comics, movies, about formative books they read in childhood. Frankie admits sheepishly that until she read All-Star Superman, she hadn't cared for the character.

Grant just laughs. "The best compliment I could get, Frankie love. Do I take it Batman is your favorite?"

"Yes, definitely. I'm loving Inc so far. I'm behind, though, because of the move. Gerard will have to let me borrow his issues," she says.

"Or you could allow me to catch you up," Grant says. "Perhaps the next time we have dinner?"

She beams at him. "Well, if you insist, I'm not gonna argue."

"You'd be kind of crazy to," Gerard says. "When is the next time we're having dinner?"

"Soon, I hope," Grant says with a smile.

"Frankie hasn't been to Griffith Observatory yet. We could take her up there on the weekend," Gerard suggests.

"Oh, fantastic," Grant says. Frankie bites her lip and smiles. "We'll do dinner after. Perhaps at my place?" Grant offers. "I may not be the most accomplished chef, but I can do a decent stir-fry."

"Sounds like a good time," Frankie grins.

"If it's the three of us, I have every confidence that it will be," Grant replies.

*

Grant insists on paying for dinner. They talk more about favorite local spots on the way back to Grant's house. Once they've dropped him off, Frankie looks sideways at Gerard. "Your place or mine?"

"Yours," Gerard says. "I haven't seen your bedroom yet."

"Okay," she replies. She bites her lip, so she doesn't smile her face off. "That was an awesome time," she says. "I...who'd have thought he'd like us enough to hang out?"

"Like, just emailing with him was really great, but I expected to have a meal or two, and that would be that. It's pretty fucking great, though," Gerard sounds so stupid happy, she has to take grab his hand over the center console.

"I mean, clearly he has excellent taste in people," she adds.

"Clearly," Gerard says and shoots her a grin, squeezing her hand. They talk about what the rest of their weeks look like after that. Gerard wants her to come over to hang with him and his family one night which makes her feel really fucking good and strangely nervous at the same time even though she's already met both Mikey and Alicia.

The closer they get to her apartment, the quieter Gerard gets, and Frankie looks over, only to be met by him...well, staring. "You're so fucking gorgeous, Frankie," he murmurs. She takes a breath and swallows.

"Thank you," she whispers.

"You're just...ink and hickeys," he ends weakly. "How can I resist?"

"You're really not supposed to," she answers. She shoots him a little smirk. "I mean, I could have worn the shirt with the high collar."

"Fuck, Frankie. I had such a hard time not staring at your chest during dinner. Or just touching you all over. If it'd been just us, I might have. That booth was pretty secluded."

"Mmmm," she hums. "We're almost home, you know."

"Yeah. Pretty happy about that. I can't stop thinking about... fuck, everything. Your mouth, your tits. Those fucking tattoos. How good it feels to fuck you." Gerard's voice goes throaty, and god, he sounds so turned on.

"Fuck," Frankie breathes. She's wet already, shifting in the bucket seat to get a little friction from the seam of her jeans.

Frankie turns onto her street and into her apartment complex and parks. Gerard doesn't let her get out, though, just leans over and starts kissing her, letting a hand slide up her thigh. "Fuck, Gee," she mumbles against his lips. "Let's go inside."

"Only because I want to see your bedroom."

"How are you going to see anything with your face between my legs, Gee?" Frankie says. Gerard laughs breathlessly and opens his door.

"I mean, I'm pretty sure I could stay there for a really long time, but at some point, we'll have stop for nourishment." Frankie shivers at the thought. "You want me to do that, Frankie? Eat you out until you can't take it anymore?"

"What do you think?" she challenges.

"You think I wouldn't? Because I can't think of much else I'd rather do," Gerard says into her ear, his hands on her hips as she unlocks the door.

"You can start there," she allows.

"I will," he says. Frankie gets the door open and leads him inside, toes her shoes off and tosses her bag on the sofa without pausing, and goes straight back to her bedroom. She knows Gerard is following her because he catches her halfway down the hall and pins her to the wall, dipping his head to mouth at her neck. His hands find her breasts, alternating between massaging and featherlight touches. She moans when he rubs firmly at the mark he left earlier.

Gerard traces along the deep v of the neckline, slipping his fingers into her cleavage and tugging the cup of her bra aside. He holds her breast in his hand and stares, watches her nipple harden, and then leans down to trace his tongue over the marks and down to her nipple. "Gee. Bedroom, please," Frankie begs.

"You telling me you won't fuck up against the wall?" he murmurs.

"Not twice in one day," she says and shoves him the rest of the way down the hall, stripping off his clothes when she gets him there. He stands still and lets her. She runs her fingers and mouth over every inch of skin she exposes. "And you call me gorgeous," she murmurs against his belly.

"You are," he says, fingers tangling in her hair. He makes a thick noise when Frankie folds to her knees in front of him, though she's mostly trying to get his jeans and boots off.

She finally succeeds and sits back on her heels, then tugs her shirt and bra down and cups her tits, rolling her nipples between her fingers as she stares at him, his cock, his beautiful body.

"Shit, Frankie, I can't-" Gerard licks his lips. She licks hers - his cock is huge and already hard, glistening at the tip. She wants it in so many ways.

"Go lie down on the bed," she murmurs. He does, props himself up on some pillows. His eyes never leave Frankie. She pulls her shirt up over her head, removes her bra, and shoves her pants down her legs. Even then, she doesn't go to him. She stands at the foot of the bed and slips a hand between her legs, fingers working her clit as she looks at him spread out for her. "Mine," she says softly. "Aren't you?"

Finally she crawls onto the bed, settling astride his legs, fingers still gently stroking herself. "Yes," Gerard moans. "Yours. And you're mine."

"I am," she replies and reaches out with her wet hand to stroke up and down Gerard's cock.

"Frankie," he says. "Are you gonna-" She lifts an eyebrow at him, leans down, and licks her own taste off his cock. He moans, and his hips twitch. "Fuck."

She lifts her head up and looks into his face. "How do you want to come, Gee? In my mouth or in my cunt?"

"How am I supposed to choose, Frankie?" he groans. She smirks and swirls her tongue around the head of his cock. "I... fuck. Your mouth," he finally gasps. She wraps her lips around his cock and starts sucking.

Frankie loves sucking cock, loves the feeling of making someone fall apart with just her mouth. Maybe her hands. She lifts one and tugs experimentally at his balls, then presses one finger behind them to see what he'll do.

He groans and scrabbles at the sheets, then his hands land in her hair. "Fuck, Frankie." She hums around him and strokes behind his balls more firmly. Gerard's being so good; he keeps shifting his hips underneath her but holding back from outright fucking her mouth. She'd be okay with it, but she's still exploring. She pulls off for long enough to spit on her fingers, then gently presses the very tip of one inside him. His fingers tighten in her hair, and he moans. "Yes, Frankie. Oh fuck."

She rubs her tongue against the underside of his cock and slides her finger in further. "You want me inside of you?" she asks, teasing his slit with the tip of her tongue. "How much do you want?"

"More," Gerard groans.

"'More' isn't very specific," she teases. "I had kind of worked that out for myself."

"Please, Frankie. Another finger," he begs. "Okay," she murmurs, tongueing around the head of his cock again and pushing a second finger in beside the first. "You gonna make me get my cock out for you, Gerard?"

"Oh god," Gerard moans. "Next time. Don't want to stop. Just your fingers." She stops anyway to get out her lube, slicks her fingers up and sucks his head again while thrusting her fingers slowly, crooking them to brush over his prostate. She's good at this too, even though it's been a long time since she was with anyone who'd appreciate it. Just the thought of fucking him makes her mouth water. So does the way he bucks and moans as she fingers him. He's not going to last much longer, but she loves making him crazy like this. Making him need her mouth, her fingers like he needs his next breath.

She adds a third finger and takes him as far back in her throat as she can, swallowing. Fuck, she's so wet, and she can't spare a hand for herself. Frankie shifts to the side and presses her thighs together, rocking gently. She crooks her fingers again, pressing harder as she pulls back and sucks hard at the head of Gerard's cock.

"Frankie. Gonna. Fuck, almost there," Gerard gasps out, tugging her hair hard. She keeps sucking and moving her fingers, and he's arching up into her mouth and coming. His taste floods her mouth, and she swallows every drop as she keeps fucking him with her fingers. She keeps going until he whines and snaps his hips up, then pulls her fingers out.

"Yeah, baby, that's it. Now it's my turn." She lets him drag her up his body and kiss her until she can barely breathe, but he doesn't stop there.

"Hold the headboard," he tells her, tugging at her hips and thighs until she plants a knee on either side of his head.

"Oh fuck," she whispers as she looks down at him. And then he wraps his hands around her thighs and holds her against his mouth and starts right off sucking hard on her clit. "God," she moans, pressing her forehead against the wall. Gerard alternates suction with teasing flicks of his tongue until she's panting and grinding down against his face. "More, please, more," she begs, and he shifts a hand to fuck into her with a couple fingers.

She's been ready and turned on so long, she knows she's going to come fast. She takes one hand off the headboard and cups her tit, pinching her nipple. When he gets his fingers at the right angle where he's stroking over her g-spot and sucking her clit, she comes, moaning Gerard's name and shuddering down against his mouth. He doesn't stop, though. He moves his hand back to where it was on her thigh and teases into her with his tongue, then slowly slides it up to her clit, then back down.

"Gee," she keens.

"Till you can't take anymore," he mumbles against her thigh, biting her gently before continuing stroking her with his tongue. It's so intense. She's still over sensitized from her first orgasm, and she keeps shuddering, grinding herself down against his mouth. He keeps up the pace he set, his tongue teasing and slow, fucking into her, exploring every last centimeter of her pussy. She puts both her hands on his head and pets his hair.

"Gee, fuck. Feels so good," she groans when Gerard rubs his thumb against her, setting a slightly faster pace, urging her hips to move with his other hand. She starts moving against him, thrusting against his face. He moans into her cunt and sucks hard on her clit. Sensation starts building, and she clenches her fingers in his hair. Her second orgasm is hard and intense. "Gee, Gee, Gee. Fuck. Oh god."

He sucks her clit through it and says, "On your back, gorgeous. I'm not done yet."

"I - Gee -" Her entire body feels wrung out already. She manages to climb off of him herself though and sinks back into her pillows. She expects Gerard to pounce, but he moves slowly instead, fingers skating gently over her belly while he bends his head to nuzzle her breast. She lets out a long, ragged breath and closes her eyes and just feels. He swirls his tongue around one nipple and sucks, then does the same to the other.

"Love sucking your tits, Frankie," he murmurs against her sternum.

"Love your mouth," she answers. He pinches one of her nipples gently, parting her folds with the other hand. Just touching and rubbing the already-swollen skin. "Oh, fuck," she whispers. He sucks at the bite mark from earlier in the day. Like he's making sure his mark will last and then kisses his way down her stomach and pushes her legs further apart. He doesn't start eating her out right away, though. He just uses his fingers in her, stroking everywhere like he did with his tongue earlier. He's gentle and slow, and he's just staring at her cunt, licking his lips. His mouth is already bright red and shiny from his earlier efforts.

"God, Frankie. Every fucking part of you is gorgeous," he murmurs and slides his hands under her knees and presses them up against her body. He leans in and swirls his tongue over the puckered skin of her ass.

She swears and squirms. "Gee, Gerard, oh god."

He presses his tongue against the ring of muscle, fucking her with his tongue just a bit. She can't hold in her moans, and god, she's starting to get so turned on again. "Fuck, want you to fuck my ass sometime, Gee," she gasps out.

"I will, baby, I want to, anything you want."

He moves back to her thighs, sucking at the skin. "Fuck, yes. Want it so bad. Want you everywhere," she says, threading her fingers through his hair. He licks up the crease of her hip, over her stomach, and back down the other, before spreading her wide with his fingers and licking over her clit, his tongue flat and gentle. Even with his soft strokes, she's nearly there already, and more teasing makes her eyes squeeze shut as she pants and moans with the last of her breath, gasping his name and coming; it's like drowning in a slow and endless flood of sensation. She's never been a screamer, but the noise that comes out of her is almost a scream. Half his name, half a curse.

She scrabbles at his shoulders trying to pull him up, but her arms are like lead and moving seems impossible. Luckily, he slides up her body and settles on top of her, his soft cock nestled between them. Frankie kisses his mouth with soft, haphazard presses, the best she can manage without moving. "Gee," she whispers against his lips.

"Frankie," he whispers back and nuzzles against her cheek.

"Fuck, that was..." She finally makes her arm move and reaches out up to slide her thumb against his swollen mouth. "It was perfect."

"Ditto," he murmurs. "God, Frankie, you're addictive."

"We should sleep now," she mumbles. "So you can fuck me in the morning. Missed your cock inside me."

"Fuck, Frankie," he whispers and rolls off her and onto his side, pulling her back against him and wrapping his arm over her waist.

*

Frankie spends Wednesday and Thursday getting everything ready for the big shoot she's doing on Monday and fucking around with the city of Los Angeles trying to get permits to shoot in a couple of places. When Thursday evening comes, and Gerard comes to get her to take her over to Mikey and Alicia's, it's a giant fucking relief to do and think about something else for a few hours. She spends about half an hour - or, okay, maybe a couple minutes - hugging him first. "So glad to see you."

He holds her close and nuzzles her temple. "Hey, I'm glad to see you, too. You okay, gorgeous?"

"Just busy. Being your own boss is hard sometimes. I thought about you so much."

"God, same. You can call me anytime, you know. I'll answer, and if I can't, I'll call back," he murmurs into her hair.

"I know. Not the same," she replies and squeezes around his waist. "What's the plan tonight?" she asks.

"We're gonna go pick up some Thai takeout and go to Mikey and Alicia's and eat it with them. You can meet their children," Gerard says.

"Kids?" Frankie says curiously. She loves kids; she misses her small cousins.

"Furry children," Gerard qualifies.

"Ahhh. I was like, 'surely he'd have told me if there were nieces or nephews'. Furry children are great, though," she says, grinning up at him.

"Yeah, they've got two cats and two dogs," Gerard says. "We'll probably end up watching movies, too. We usually do. Sometimes Alicia makes brownies."

"I like brownies. Sounds relaxing," she says.

"It usually is," Gerard replies, stroking his hands up and down her back. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah." Frankie grabs her bag. "You're driving?"

"Sure," he says, and they head out.

They get takeout from the Thai place a block from Frankie's apartment and head for Mikey and Alicia's. The drive is short; they live about halfway between her place and Gerard's in a cute little bungalow. Their dogs answer the door with Alicia, and Frankie is completely delighted.

"Oh my god, they're great," she says, folding to the ground to let them sniff her.

"The Shar Pei is Piglet, and the pug is Winston," Alicia says. They sniff her and nose her hands, and Frankie gives them ear and chest scratches and pettings. "Better stop now, or they'll never let you eat or anything," Alicia says with a laugh.

"Food is overrated," Frankie says. Gerard laughs and runs his fingers through her hair.

"They're not going anywhere, babe, and I bet Winston will sit on your lap if we watch a movie. Where's Mikes, Alicia?"

"Buying brownie ingredients. We're somehow out of half the essentials. He just went around the corner. He'll be back in a few minutes. Want to clean up?" Alicia points out the powder room for Frankie.

"Yeah, thanks," Frankie says and ducks into the tiny room to wash her hands. Gerard follows her and when she's done, presses her against the sink and kisses her stupid.

"Hungry," he says. She knows he doesn't mean for food.

She leans up to whisper in his ear, "After we're done here, you can take me home and fuck me in your fucking huge bed. Or," she says remembering the other night when he didn't want to let her out of the car, "You can drive somewhere, and I can climb over the gearshift and ride you."

"Ngh," Gerard says indistinctly.

She giggles and pulls out from between him and the sink and follows the sound of Alicia talking to the dogs into the kitchen. As she walks into the room, the back door opens, and Mikey walks in. "Hey, Mikey Way," she says.

"Hi Frankie, hi Gee," he says as Gerard comes up behind her and puts his hands on her hips.

"Sit down, I'm hungry," Alicia says.

They sit and pass around takeout containers, and Mikey and Alicia tell hilarious stories about Gee and bicker, and Frankie laughs until her sides hurt. They like her; she can tell, and it makes her feel great. Gerard can tell, and he looks so happy. They move into the living room, and Gerard sits in the corner of the couch and pulls her down between his legs. Sure enough, Winston hops immediately up into her lap. She laughs and coos at him.

"Movie choice," Mikey says.

"Is this a test?" Frankie asks. "Because I have excellent taste." Mikey just raises an eyebrow at her. "Wait, you don't have a copy of Marianne, do you?" she asks.

"Excellent choice," Mikey says. "And you're lucky we have that. I nearly had to bootleg it from Sweden."

The rest of the night is fun. They watch the movie, and Gerard makes them pause now and then, so he can gush about certain aspects and nearly smacks Frankie in the face with his gesticulating. It's fun to see Gerard with family. Not that Frankie minds their tendency to jump each other's bones on a daily basis, but he's just plain fun, too.

They have brownie sundaes after the movie is over, and Mikey invites her to just come to their family movie night every week, which almost makes her cry. She gets a hug from Alicia as they leave, and Mikey smiles at her, and it's great.

Frankie just goes back to Gerard's that night. He fucks her, and it's just as good as it's been every time so far. She savors the sleepy moments afterwards, too, when he's blinking sleep away and absently stroking her breasts, her sides, over her ass.

*

There's no trace of sleepiness in either of them when they pick Grant up that Saturday for their excursion. Partly due to the very large coffees they got on the way over, but mostly due to being excited to see Grant again. He's wearing a t-shirt, white pants, and sunglasses and looking every bit as cool as he always seemed before Frankie met him. Not that knowing him has made him less cool. If anything, she has more of a crush than ever. Not really in a nervous schoolgirl way, but in the way where she could listen to him talk for hours and really enjoys hanging out with him. She's glad he's joining them for this.

The view from the observatory is gorgeous, and Gerard waxing poetic about Rebel Without A Cause makes the whole trip worth it, never mind anything else. Except there are plenty of other things to do there, too. Like listen to Grant, who is fascinatingly well read in science. Frankie doesn't understand half of it. She loves hearing about it, though, and Grant talks about stars and dark matter and theoretical physics and how it's all part of the greater universe and hypertime. It's pretty gratifying to see Gerard staring as raptly as she is. Frankie takes dozens of photos and insists they both pose for her as well. They only stop when Gerard's stomach starts audibly grumbling.

They head back down to Grant's place, and he offers them drinks. They sit at the kitchen bar and chat while he cooks for them. The meal is excellent, and they talk and laugh the rest of the night. Frankie asks a question about something he said back at the observatory, and somehow they get around to Grant's comics because of it, and that brings up comic books Grant and Gerard would like to write. Gerard's writing ambitions were one of the things that had pleased Grant most during the phone interview.

"I just have to find the fucking time," Gerard says and laughs. "I've got so much shit on my plate and keep adding more."

"You're happy as a pig in shit, and you know it," Frankie says. Gerard makes a face at her but concedes.

"I am. I just have to. I don't know. Set aside a specific amount of time every day to write or something if I ever actually want it to happen."

"I believe you can manage," Grant says easily. Gerard beams at him. They ask Frankie if she has any desire to do anything other than photography, and she shrugs.

"I love what I do. At one point I wanted to be the next Joan Jett, still might play if I find a band that wants me and can work with my day job."

"Will you play for us?" Grant asks. "I have a guitar somewhere."

"If you want. I'm a bit rusty. My calluses are almost gone," she says.

"I'm sure we can forgive a little rustiness. I'll go find the guitar. It's probably out of tune," Grant says and gets up.

Gerard tugs Frankie closer on the couch when Grant leaves the room. "I haven't played for you yet, huh?" she says.

"You have not," he replies mock-reproachfully. "I feel I've been deprived. I think I'm going to want to make out with you afterwards," Gerard tells her. "Just warning you."

She smirks at him. "I don't think I'll mind."

"It's a deal, then," he replies, and Grant comes back into the room bearing an acoustic guitar.

"Oh, she's so pretty," Frankie croons. Grant grins proudly.

"I've had her since I was nineteen or so. One of the first things I saved up for when I started making proper money."

"Gimme." Frankie reaches out and cradles the guitar, strumming the strings and twisting pegs to tune her. It's not as bad as it could be, so it doesn't take her long. She starts out with the opening riff of Smells Like Teen Spirit. Grant laughs, and Gerard makes a face at her. She switches to the Smiths for him, then looks at Grant. "Requests?"

"I quite enjoyed The Smiths. But how about The Beatles?" he asks. She smiles.

"I can do that." Frankie picks out the first few bars of "While My Guitar Gently Weeps." She moves into "Eleanor Rigby" and then randomly into "Jesus Was A Crossmaker" by The Hollies which delights Grant.

"God, it's been years since I heard that song."

She segues from that into random chords and then just starts playing. She gets lost in it. She forgot how much she loves playing guitar, how much it makes her feel alive and creative in totally different way than photography. She doesn't know how long she plays, but eventually she stops.

"I don't recognize that song," Grant says.

"It's just noodling," she replies with a shrug.

"That was amazing, Frankie," Gerard breathes.

"Spectacular," Grant agrees. She feels her face heat.

"Okay, Joan Jett backup plan is still a go," she says. "Any more requests?"

"I suppose 'make out with me' is not an option at this point?" Gerard asks with a cheeky grin. There's heat there though.

"That would be a little rude," Frankie replies. "Groupie," she whispers at him with a wink.

"You bet your ass I am," Gerard says.

Grant smirks, "I'm sure you'll be more successful in dealing with him than I was with groupies, Frankie."

"And how successful are you at it now, Grant?" she asks.

"Fair to middling," he replies.

Frankie laughs. "Sure."

"I am, as you can see, still single. Perhaps the right person has not yet appeared. Or the right proposition."

That makes Frankie feel strangely sad, but she smiles brightly at him. "That just means we get to claim more of your free time until that happens."

"It's yours," Grant says fondly.

"Good," Gerard says. "Speaking of time..." he looks down at his watch. "Wait. How is it that late?"

"Is it?" Grant says. "I hadn't realized."

"Me either," Frankie says. "We should probably go. We promised we'd go to Universal with Mikey and Alicia in the morning."

Gerard laughs. "You say that as if it took more than five seconds to convince you."

"I like amusement parks. Of course, it's not Disney," she says with a soft look for Gerard. He reaches out and rests his hand against her neck. She leans the guitar against the arm of the couch and stands, catching Gerard's hand in hers and pulling him up. "It was fun," she says to Grant, going up on tiptoe to give him an impulsive hug.

"Absolutely," he murmurs and hugs her back tightly. She steps back, and Gerard takes her place.

"Call, okay?" Gerard says, and Frankie nods.

"Maybe I can cook for you next time," she offers.

"If you like, that would be quite nice," he says. He walks them to the door and lets them out, flipping on lights and watching them until they've gotten the car started. Then he waves and shuts the door.

"How is he so nice?" Gerard muses.

"I have no idea, but it's great," Frankie replies. She reverses and turns out of Grant's driveway. Instead of turning toward home, she turns further up the hill. She feels Gerard look at her but just keeps driving until she finds the viewpoint she was looking for and parks before looking back at him. "I seem to recall promising to fuck in the car."

"That was yesterday," Gerard says breathlessly.

"I have a good memory," Frankie points out. "And I walk the walk, I don't just talk the talk."

"Fuck," Gerard murmurs. "Okay, yeah, I -"

She unbuttons her pants, lifts her hips, and pushes them and her underwear down and kicks them off along with her shoes. It's going to be annoying putting herself back together, but she doesn't care. She just climbs over the gearshift and straddles his thighs. He slips his hands under her shirt and strokes his fingers over her belly.

"Frankie," he whispers.

"You want my tits, don't you?" she asks.

"Only always," Gerard says and slides his hands further up to cup her breasts over her bra. She laughs and pulls her shirt over her head and hopes absently that nobody else decides to make use of the viewpoint. He reaches around her back and unclasps her bra and pulls it down her arms.

"God, you're gorgeous," he says, filling his hands with her tits. She rolls her hips a few times, experimenting with the space available. They won't be able to move much, but with how hard Gerard already feels, maybe it won't matter. She reaches between them and gets his pants undone.

Frankie braces herself, so he can lift his hips and get his pants down his thighs. It's awkward and so fucking hot. Frankie pops open the compartment between the seats where she stashed some condoms earlier in the day and gets one.

"Fuck," Gerard says admiringly. "You thought ahead for this?"

"Told you. Walk the walk," she says, leaning back, so he can roll the condom on. "This sucks. I need to get on the pill or something," she grumbles.

"Fuck," Gerard whispers, clearly into the idea. "I mean. It's your body, and if something else won't work, whatever. But I think we're to that point, and I'm clean."

"Yeah, me too. On both counts," she whispers and leans in for a kiss. Who knew she'd find talking about birth control a turn on? "Hold still for a sec," she mumbles, steadying herself on his shoulders and pushing up to line him up, then sinking back down - slowly, so slowly. "God, Gerard. You feel so fucking good," she murmurs into his hair. He moans in response, one hand clutching her hip, the other squeezing her breast.

"You, too," he says. "Ride me now."

"So hard," she growls into his ear.

"I've been hard since you started playing, Frankie. You're so fucking hot when you play. Wanted to lean over and finger you with the guitar still in your arms," Gerard tells her breathlessly as he rolls his hips. He leans to take her nipple in his mouth and starts sucking.

"That would definitely have been a little rude," she gasps, but she is pretty sure he can feel how her pussy clenches at the thought. She rolls her hips harder, clinging to his shoulder with one hand and pinching the nipple he's not sucking with the other. He releases her nipple and grabs the hand she's using on her breast, pulls her fingers into his mouth, and sucks. "Gee. Fuck."

"Soon. You fuck me. Soon," he groans, snapping his hips up into her until she keens, on the edge.

"Yeah. Fuck, babe. Just name the time and place," she whispers. He runs a hand down her ass, lets his fingers slide between her cheeks, and sucks her other nipple into his mouth. She wants fingers on her clit, but there's so little room, and she's so close without it. She just holds onto Gerard and moans. He moves his mouth back up and bites down hard on the junction of her neck and shoulder. She swears and shudders and comes, surprising herself. The spasms must set him off, too, because he freezes and groans into her neck a moment later. Their heavy breathing fills the car. Gerard has her wrapped tight in his arms and his face buried in her neck, and he's whispering her name over and over. She clings back, loving the feeling of him still inside her, the feeling of his hands stroking her.

"Frankie, how are you so -" He stops, kissing her collarbones, licking the sweat from between her breasts. "How are you so -" Perfect. She leans in for one more kiss, on the lips this time, then eases up and off of him.

She sits back on his thighs to put her shirt on again but not before Gerard reaches out to cop another feel. "When we get home, I'm spending some time on those."

"Because that'd be so different from all the other times we've fucked," she says with a laugh. Frankie eases herself back into the driver's seat and wriggles into her jeans. She stuffs her panties and bra into her bag. Might as well keep things simple.

"You ready?" she asks Gerard.

"Well, if I'd been smart and not addled by the totally amazing orgasm I just had, I'd have reached over there and brought you off again with my fingers, but I suppose it can wait," Gerard says flippantly.

"I don't like waiting," Frankie says. "But I think we've spent long enough sitting here."

It definitely feels a little weird - a little naughty - to drive back past Grant's street. She sees Gerard looking, too. She bites her lip. She feels like she should say something, but she's not sure what. All she knows is that she feels warm and happy, and she can't wait to get home, so they can do it all over again in a bed.

*

Frankie goes home with Gerard after their trip to Universal; they're in bed, cleaned up and in their pajamas after a long day of fun and a long evening of fucking when Frankie's eyes pop wide open, and she's suddenly fully awake. "Thanksgiving is next week."

"Yeah, I know," Gerard mumbles into his pillow.

"Are..." she hesitates. She doesn't want to invite herself over for a major holiday.

"Was s'posed to ask you last week," Gerard says, lifting his head. "Wanna have dinner with me and Mikey and Alicia?"

Frankie smiles. "Oh, Gee, that sounds perfect."

"We'll get you fake turkey," he says, wrapping an arm around her and holding her close.

The next week is a whirlwind of work. Frankie calls Alicia to see what she should bring to Thanksgiving and calls Grant to invite him over for dinner on the Friday after.

Thursday is almost a surprise when it comes, and she doesn't have to go to the studio or into the magazine offices. Gerard picks her up around eleven, and she grabs the salad she's bringing from the fridge, and they head for Mikey and Alicia's. It's been a long time since Frankie's been away from her family on Thanksgiving, so even though she already called her mom earlier that morning, she's a little quiet on the ride there.

"Thank you for inviting me," she says. "It's a little weird being away from home."

Gerard reaches over and puts a hand on her knee. "I know, Frankie. It's...we're gonna make sure you have a great day. Okay?"

She smiles at him. "I have no doubt."

She doesn't say it, but she definitely thinks that maybe she's found family here in California, too.

It is a great day, just like Gerard promised. They watch football and root for their favorite east coast teams. The food is damn good, and the animal and human company can't be beat. Gerard stays over that night, too. She's starting to get really used to him being around, hogging the covers and doing terrible things to her nice coffee blend and leaving scraps of paper everywhere with stuff about radioactive ooze or secret societies or roadside shrines scrawled on them. Frankie keeps them in a basket on her kitchen table in case they're important.

She hasn't had much time to cook properly, and it's almost soothing when she starts working mid-afternoon. She'd thought about trying something new, but she's really good at eggplant parm, and it smells like home, so maybe it's the perfect thing the day after Thanksgiving. Gerard had left for home around noon, for unspecified reasons. She has reasons to suspect Black Friday sales. On what, she's not sure. When he returns several hours later, she's got the the sauce done and everything ready to be out together and go in the oven. Gerard has a bag full of art supplies.

"How many more of those bags are in your car?" she asks with a laugh.

"One is a jacket," he says, like that makes it better. "But look what else I found at the comic shop." He gestures toward the parking lot, and Frankie can see Grant's car.

"Well, why isn't he coming in?" she asks.

"I think he took a phone call right when he pulled up," Gerard says and leans in. "Just means I can do this a little longer," he murmurs against her lips and kisses her.

"Okay," she says and clings. God, it's still so good every time. They kiss in the doorway until a throat clears. Frankie pulls back to see Grant grinning at her. She steps out of Gerard's arms and wraps hers around Grant's waist. He surprises her by clinging back and sighing into her hair. "You okay, Grant?" she murmurs.

"Had a call from my mum," he says. "She's getting more and more confused."

"That sucks," she whispers back. She sees Gerard reach out and squeeze Grant's shoulder. "Do you need to - "

"Right now, I need to have dinner with some dear friends," Grant says as he pulls back. "Tomorrow I shall call my sister, and we'll discuss everything."

"Let me get you a glass of wine," Frankie says.

"Much appreciated, love. And the house smells fantastic."

She draws them into the kitchen/dining room area and gets busy putting the eggplant parm together. "So how were the sales at Secret Headquarters?" she asks.

"Meltdown," Gerard corrects. "I was looking for this manga Mikey wants." He pauses. "Which I didn't find, but apparently they're stocking Scottish authors there now." He grins at Grant.

Grant grins back. "I'm one of a kind. Lucky you got to me first."

"Completely lucky," Gerard replies. He's fussing with Frankie's coffeemaker, and she sighs and bats him away.

"Let me."

He grabs her around the waist and nips at her neck. "Control freak."

"Pot, kettle. Go sit next to Grant." She pulls out a dish of olives for them and starts some coffee brewing. They all chat as Frankie finishes up and puts the pan in the oven. She's got a salad made and waiting in the fridge and garlic bread ready to go in the oven a couple of minutes before they're ready to eat. She washes her hands and tops up the wine she's been sipping, and they transfer into the living room. Grant doesn't sit but looks at her bookshelves and her other media.

"Any requests?" Frankie asks.

"Some music, perhaps, would be relaxing," he says. She picks some jazz piano, hands her wine off to Grant to hold, and sets it spinning on her record player. "Excellent choice," Grant murmurs. She smiles.

Gerard has settled himself into the corner of the couch, and Frankie pulls Grant down into the center and curls up facing them in the other corner. "Did you celebrate yesterday, Grant?" she asks.

"I nearly forgot about the holiday until a friend called on Wednesday and asked if I wanted to come eat with some Colonists and distract him from his mother-in-law. I accepted, of course," Grant says with a laugh.

"That's nice," Frankie says. "I wondered about you yesterday. Hopefully my cooking will be up to snuff."

"If it tastes even a fraction as good as it smells, I'm certain it will be marvelous," Grant says.

"Well, I can't wait to find out," Gerard says. "I'm starving."

"Buying out an art store is hard work," Frankie teases.

"Hey, at least I bought it out when everything was on sale. And maybe I got you a present," Gerard says and then blushes.

"What kind of present?" Frankie asks curiously.

"I'll give it to you later," Gerard says. She raises an eyebrow at him but lets him change the subject to Yo Gabba Gabba which he apparently got hooked on accidentally when channel surfing one night.

"Thinking about tackling children's programming, Gerard?" Grant asks. Gerard laughs.

"Probably not, but I wouldn't say no to doing something with them for a single episode. They get some incredible musical acts on. It's totally psychedelic. I bet you'd love it."

"Oh you do, do you?" Grant asks. "Has someone been telling you stories of my youth?" he smiles.

"I'm all ears," Gerard challenges. "Impress me."

Grant laughs. "And it wasn't really my youth. But I've definitely done my fair share of mushrooms and LSD. And hash. But my most intense experience of psychedelia was when I went up 365 steps in Kathmandu on one breath and a tiny amount of hash."

"I remember that story," Gerard says.

"But we've never heard Grant tell it," Frankie interrupts. Grant grins and launches into a story of aliens and hypertime and infinite possibility. Somehow, Frankie believes every word.

"Really, I only use the word 'aliens' because I don't have any other language for what happened. It comes closest."

"I like the sound of infinite possibility," Frankie says. She lays a hand on his knee, then gets up. "Dinner is probably just about ready if you want to wash your hands."

Frankie finishes everything as they wash up. Everyone gathers around the table and digs into the food. Frankie nervously takes her first bite of eggplant parm and sighs with relief. She didn't fuck it up. "You're my first houseguest," Frankie tells Grant. "Like, for a proper dinner. Besides Gerard," she adds.

"I see how I rate," Gerard teases.

"You were my boyfriend by the time I fed you here," she says. "Therefore, not a guest."

"I am delighted, either way," Grant says. "I suppose you won't have a chance to entertain again for a few weeks. When do you leave for London?"

"Oh god, two weeks," Frankie says and groans. "I haven't even thought about packing yet. Or... anything. Fuck. Although...is there anything you'd like me to bring back for you? Either of you, I suppose," she says, winking at Gerard.

"Jaffa Cakes," Grant says. "I believe I have everything else I'd want."

"I want cheesy London souvenirs," Gerard adds. "The more union jacks the better. Also a knighthood."

"Pretty sure they don't sell knighthoods at the Tower of London gift shop, Gee," Frankie says.

"He has one," Gerard says, jerking his chin at Grant with a cheeky little grin.

Grant laughs. "Given that I show Her Majesty naked and humiliated in one of my books, it's true that purchasing the order seems more likely. But I did, in fact, come by it honestly due to living in the U.K. and, according to the Queen, making valuable contributions to the arts. Also, it's not a knighthood. I have no title, just a pretty medal. But as The Beatles were also made Members of the Order before being granted knighthoods, I live in hope."

"You got a medal?" Frankie says, poking him with a foot as her hands are full of silverware. "I want to see it."

"I did. I believe it's still in its pretty box on a shelf in my office in Scotland, but I'll be sure to bring it back next time. Or you and Gerard could come visit me sometime," Grant replies and nudges her elbow with his hand.

"I'm disappointed you don't carry it around with you," she pouts. "Gerard would. I would."

"Maybe I'd rather use it to tempt young women - and men," he adds with an arch glance at Gerard, "back to my castle."

"It's working," she says with a giggle and then thinks. "Though, I suppose if I were made a dame, they'd have to use my legal name. And that'd just be terrible."

"Are we talking about that? I thought we never talked about that," Gerard asks.

"We're not talking about it. Just... contemplating the flaws in the 'get the Queen of England to make me a dame' plan," Frankie retorts.

"Frankie suits you," Grant comments. "Perhaps when I attain my knighthood I can petition for a rules change."

Frankie beams at him. "I would be grateful."

"We should come visit you, though," Gerard says. "That'd be fun. I've never been to Scotland."

"Open invitation," Grant says, then sits his fork down with a clink. "Gods, I'm stuffed."

"You can go pick a new record?" Frankie offers.

"I'll do that," he says and stands. He gets up and leans down to kiss Frankie on top of the head. "It really was a wonderful meal, Frankie."

"Thank you," she replies and then gets up herself. "You," she says to Gerard, "get to help me clear the table."

Gerard does more than that; he gets up close and personal while she loads the dishwasher.

"You are the opposite of help," she whispers.

"But you're so fucking hot," Gerard murmurs in her ear, letting his hands wander a bit.

"You are such an exhibitionist," Frankie whispers back. "Grant is like ten feet away."

He kisses her and grinds just a little bit against her before pulling back again and handing her a dish like he didn't do anything at all.

"I want to know what my present is," she tells him. "You're being mysterious."

He laughs, big and loud, cheeks pinking up again. "You just accused me of exhibitionism," he whispers. "Showing you would definitely be exhibitionism."

"Oh," Frankie says, hushed. Damn it, now she's curious and turned on.

Gerard smirks at her. "Later."

The scratch of the record player starts up again, and The White Album starts playing.

"In honor of my Member of the Order forebears," Grant says with a grin as he wanders back into the kitchen. "I heard laughing and murmuring," Grant comments. "Is it time for me to become quite tired and say goodnight?"

Frankie giggles. "You don't need to leave. Gerard was being a pest. How about more wine and maybe a movie? Unless you really are tired."

"That sounds excellent," Grant says. "If I'm truly not wearing out my welcome."

"Never gonna happen," Frankie says and grabs the bottle of wine and refills their glasses.

Gerard gets back in her good graces - not that he was really out of them - by pulling a stack of her Argento movies off the shelf. He holds them up for Grant to choose. He picks Suspiria, and Frankie grins at him. "You can definitely stay."

"Frankie and I argue over horror movies all the time, but there are a few things we can agree on," Gerard says. He stops the record playing and puts in the DVD.

Frankie kicks off her shoes and curls up in the corner of the couch. She picks up the remote, and Gerard toes his shoes off and joins her, leaning against her side. When Grant gets settled on the other end, Gerard swings his legs up and plops them over Grant's lap. Grant chuckles and rests his hands comfortably on Gerard's shins. It's cozy and comfortable, and Frankie's seen this movie so many times she's afraid she might fall asleep. She twists a strand of Gerard's hair between her fingers and sips her wine. This is nice.

She's actually not quite ready for the movie to be over when the ending comes. She thinks she might be able to stay right here with the two of them for a long time. But then Gerard squeezes high on her thigh as he sits back up, and she remembers she has a present waiting.

"It's been a lovely night," Grant says as he gets up off the couch. Frankie gets up, and Grant pulls her into his arms. "Thank you for a wonderful meal and even better company." He releases her and reaches for Gerard who hugs him back tight. "Do call before you leave for London, Frankie. Sooner. I'd hate to miss seeing you before you leave."

"I will," she promises.

"Drive safe, Grant," Gerard says and then he's out the door.

When it's closed behind him, Frankie pounces. "Where's my present?"

Gerard rummages in his art supply store bag and pulls out a smaller bag. She can't quite read the logo, and he tucks it behind his back. "You can have it in your bedroom."

The bedroom is dark, but she leaves off the overhead light and turns on the bedside lamp before turning around to the sound of the bag rustling. He holds it out to her, and she takes it from him with a smirk and overturns the bag directly onto the bed.

"Oh, fuck." It's a harness and dildo. Both really fucking nice by the looks of it. She smirks over her shoulder at him. "Bought yourself a present, you mean?"

Gerard grabs her hips and pulls her back against him. "Both of us," he growls against her ear. "I've been thinking about it ever since you said it. When I drove by the shop today, I couldn't resist."

She turns around and wraps her arms around his neck, then runs a hand down his back and down the back of his jeans. "Don't think I didn't see how big that dildo is."

"I can take it," he purrs. "I want it."

"Oh, I am on board," Frankie murmurs. "Strip, Gee. Nice and slow."

Frankie steps back and sits on the bed to watch. Gerard slowly unzips his hoodie and tosses it on top of her dresser, then pulls his shirt over his head. His hands are not quite steady - he's clearly forcing himself to take his time. When he gets to his belt, he looks Frankie in the eye as he unbuckles it and takes care of the button and zip on his jeans. She tilts her head to the side expectantly. Challenging. He smirks and wriggles out of his jeans and underwear together. She has no idea how he makes it sexy, but he does.

He sits on the chair facing her bed and dumps the discarded material to the floor. "Now you. And I want to help you put your present on."

"I would hope so," Frankie says, trying to hold her voice steady. His hands on straps and buckles are all she can see, all of a sudden.

Before she starts undressing, she gets the dildo out of its packaging with only a small amount of swearing. Gerard laughs at her and she flips him off over her shoulder, taking the toy into the bathroom to wash it off. She starts stripping on her way back into the room, skimming out of her jeans first and tossing them at him with a teasing grin. Then she shoves down her underwear and pulls her shirt off over her head, making sure to give her back an extra arch. Then she waits.

"Get the stuff, and come here," Gerard orders. She takes a deep breath and walks toward him. She stops when her knees hit the chair in the v of his legs. He sits up, puts his hands on her hips, and strokes his thumbs over her skin, then takes the harness and dildo from her. He fits the dildo through the ring and with somewhat surprising ease, gets all the straps arranged and holds it up for her to step into. He's staring like he wants to eat her alive, eyes big and dark.

"You look amazing," he whispers, fingers brushing her skin as he fastens the straps. She gasps as they tighten. He cinches the harness tight and runs his fingers over her skin where it's bulging from the straps. "Gonna lick the marks when I take this off." Frankie moans and reaches behind herself to remove her bra, but Gerard stops her with a firm, "No. Let me."

"Gotcha," she murmurs. "Gonna fuck you so hard, Gee." She's breathing hard already; the base of the dildo presses against her clit with every breath, it feels like.

"Yeah, you fucking are," Gerard says and pulls her down into his lap. Her cock presses into his belly, and he wraps a hand around it and one arm around her back to undo her bra one-handed. She pulls it off as best as she can; he's jerking the cock lightly, sending it pressing back against her in teasing nudges. As soon as her bra is out of the way, he leans forward and sucks a nipple into his mouth. She shivers and feels herself get even wetter.

"Jesus fuck," she gasps and grinds down against him.

"Hey, none of that," Gerard says.

"Well, can you blame me for being excited?" she gasps.

"Not at all. But I wanna be the one to make you come," he whispers and sucks her other nipple into his mouth.

"Fuck," is all Frankie can say. She threads her fingers into his hair. "Gee," she begs. "Come on." Two can play this game. She moves her mouth to his neck and sucks lightly. He moans but doesn't stop what he's doing. Apparently they're going to drive each other as crazy as possible before actually getting to business. She can't say she minds, not when his tongue is flicking over her nipple. She shifts again on his lap.

"I can feel you," he whispers. "So wet."

"Christ, Gerard," she grits. He bites at the curve of her breast. She sucks in a sharp breath. "C'mon, Gerard. Please. Wanna fuck you so bad."

Gerard stands, and Frankie gasps in surprise and wraps her legs around his waist. He takes two strides to the bed and lays her down, covering her body with his. He links their hands together, pushing them over her head and kissing her mouth, cheek, jaw, back down to her chest. Sits up straddling her thighs and wraps his hand around the dildo again. He slides his hand down, two fingers over her clit and into her, teasing her g-spot briefly and then back out. She bucks up.

"Fuck, Gee. C'mon." He's pinning her down with a wicked smile on his face.

"Work for it, Frankie," he taunts. She bucks up against him, makes sure her cock slides against his. He groans, and his grip on her wrists loosens just enough for her to pull her arms away while he's distracted. She wraps her arms around his waist and lets a hand wander down his ass. She reaches up and bites his ear, then murmurs, "Roll over, Gee, if you know what's good for you."

He smirks down at her. "What if I want to ride you?"

"Gotta let me get you ready first," she reminds him. Her fingers stroke over his entrance. "Unless you want to do it yourself."

"I want you," he says. "Of course. I just can't make myself...stop..." He ruts down against her again. She hooks her ankles over his thighs and presses up against him to roll him over. She's not quite strong enough or big enough to get him over by herself, but when she pushes again, he goes easily.

"My turn," Frankie says, sitting up on her heels. Gerard rakes his eyes up and down her body, lingering on the harness. She reaches for the lube on the bedside table. She gets some on her fingers and strokes his cock a couple of times before sliding her fingers down, circling his entrance.

"Frankie," Gerard gasps.

"Like you weren't expecting that," she says, pressing in with one finger. "Fuck, Gee," she murmurs. "So tight."

"Been a long time," he grits out. "Fuck. More, Frankie," he orders. She can't not give him what he wants, so she presses a second finger in and thrusts them in and out slowly. He's beautiful to watch, cheeks getting flushed, wriggling down against her hand.

"God, Gee. You want it so fucking much, don't you?" she murmurs and gives him a third finger.

"Want you inside me so bad," he says. He sounds fucking filthy.

"Are you ready for me?" she asks and strokes over his prostate.

"Yes," he hisses through clenched teeth. "Fuck me, Frankie."

"How do you want it? Are you going to be bossy again, baby?" she murmurs.

"Let's start like this," he whispers. She nods and removes her fingers, so she can can get more lube, and Gerard whimpers under her. She strokes his hip soothingly and then lubes up her cock.

"Deep breath," Frankie whispers. Gerard sucks in a breath, and Frankie pushes his knees up to his chest and presses inside.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Gerard chants and scrabbles at the sheets.

"Talk to me, baby," Frankie whispers. Every nudge of her hips to push deeper into him presses the base of the dildo against her clit, and she moans softly with each stroke.

"Feels so fucking good, Frankie," he gasps. "So fucking big and full. Love it so much."

"I love watching you," she tells him. "You look gorgeous."

"Fuck. You, too. So fucking hot with that cock and your tits." Frankie gives him a hard little thrust and leans over him. He reaches up to cup her breasts, thumbs rubbing her nipples.

"Your mouth," she pants. "Please." He leans up until he can suck a nipple into his mouth and flick it with his tongue. She rolls her hips, and he moans around her nipple. "Fuck," she gasps. He sucks hard. When she pulls back to fuck him harder, her nipple scrapes through her teeth, and she groans. "What do you need to come, Gee?" she asks.

"Don't wanna come yet," he says. "Wanna feel you."

She nods. "Okay, I'm gonna pull out, and you're gonna ride me." Frankie eases back and lets him drop his legs, then tugs him to his knees and kisses him hungrily. His hands grip her waist hard, and he presses his tongue against hers. He slides his hands up her body, brushes over her breasts, and cups her face. When he pulls back, he tips his forehead against hers.

"Love you so fucking much, Frankie," he gasps.

"Gee. Oh god, I love you, too. So much." Her heart is in her throat, she's breathing hard, and all she can do is cling to him.

"Lie down, baby," he murmurs against Frankie's cheek, easing her back against the pillows. He kisses her again and then sits up. She reaches down to hold the cock steady, and he lowers himself down hard and fast. "Fuck, Frankie. God, you're so..." he trails off and reaches for her breasts.

"Good?" she asks. "Can I touch you? Make it even better?"

"Gimme a minute," he says and lifts up and slowly eases himself back down. She puts her hands on his thighs and slides them up and down his legs as he alternates between rolling his hips and fucking himself on her cock.

"Gee," she says; it's the only thing she can get out, watching him. He moves his hands up to her shoulders, presses her down into the mattress and fucks down hard.

"Touch me," Gerard demands. Frankie meets his eyes steadily, then spits into her palm and wraps it around his cock. She smirks and watches his mouth go slack. She's so wet, so ready, but she wants to watch Gerard forever. He's flushed and panting, every breath coming out as a little moan. And then she swipes her thumb over the head of his cock. "Oh fuck, Frankie. Faster."

She starts stroking him as firmly as she can. He feels so good, hot, velvet-hard, slick at the tip - because of her. "You're so...gorgeous, Gee. I love touching you, I love you, I -"

"Frankie," he says. He can't seem to say anything more, but she can see it all in his face. She thrusts her hips up, meeting him thrust for thrust and keeps her strokes steady on his cock. She really wants to fuck him, some other time, bent over and waiting for her, but this...this works, too. He's so focused, so desperate. His movements speed up, and Frankie watches his head tip back, neck long and pale, eyes closed.

"C'mon, Gerard. Come for me. Let me see your face," she whispers and runs her thumb over his slit again. His face goes slack, and Frankie wishes she could feel him clench up, feel him come everywhere, but his face, the way he starts coming hard over her tits and belly is almost enough. He sits still for a moment, panting, but he looks at her as he pushes himself up and off her cock, and she smiles, dazed and wanting but happy.

Gerard goes straight for the buckles of the harness, hands shaking a bit as he fumbles it out of the way and sinks his fingers into her. He trails his other hand across Frankie's stomach, smearing his come into her skin, tracing the whorls of her tattoos. She grabs his hand and pulls it up to her mouth and sucks his fingers clean.

"So fucking hot, Frankie," he murmurs. When she releases his fingers from her mouth, he moves down, licks over the red marks from the harness just like he promised. He sucks a mark into her hip, teasing his fingers up and down and between her folds. Frankie whines, "Gerard, come on."

"But you feel so good," he murmurs.

"I'm so fucking ready for your mouth, Gee. Please," she begs. He thrusts three fingers inside her and leans down. He teases his tongue over her thighs and down the crease of her hips. She clenches around his fingers, and it's good, but it's not enough. He's not moving them - and he's keeping a hand on her hip so she can't move either. Then he finally leans down and flattens his tongue against her, and she practically yells it feels so good. Her hand flies to his hair, and she clenches her fingers. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, Gee."

He swipes the tip of his tongue over her clit, and she bucks up against his mouth. "You taste so good, Frankie. Come for me, baby."

He flexes his fingers inside her and sucks hard on her clit. She moans long and loud, thrusting against his face and comes, her fingers digging into his skull.

"Gerard. Love." He licks gently a few more times, then crawls up the mattress and drapes himself over her.

"Good present?" he whispers in her ear.

"Oh my god, Gee," she whispers and wraps herself around him.

"So, good?" he murmurs teasingly.

"Better," she replies and strokes her hands through his hair. They don't move, just hold onto each other. Finally, Frankie puts a hand on his cheek and draws his face to where Frankie can look at him.

"I love you," she says.

"Yeah, you said," he answers softly. "I'm glad because I am so gone over you."

"Good," she replies. "Because you're stuck with me."

"I am totally okay with that," he replies and leans down to kiss her. It's sweet and thorough, and Frankie is pretty sure she's never felt so good in all her life. "I've never felt like this in my life," Gerard tells her, kissing her cheeks and forehead. She didn't even say it aloud.

"You read my mind," Frankie says happily. He laughs softly and nuzzles her cheek.

"Frankie," he whispers.

"What is it?" she murmurs into his shoulder.

"Just. Love you. So glad we met. Can't imagine my life without you anymore," he says, trailing his lips over her ear.

"Yeah," she whispers contentedly.

*

The next two weeks are hectic. She's so busy, but she makes time for family movie night, and Gerard stays over practically the whole week. Of course, Grant comes over to hang out.

She destroys her apartment trying to pack, and Gerard drives her to the airport far too early. He holds and kisses her until the cop parked at the departures drop-off curb starts yelling at him to move along. "Call when you can, and email."

"I will," she promises. "You, too." He nods and squeezes her again before pulling back very reluctantly.

"I love you," he says.

"Love you, too," she replies and forces herself to turn and walk into the airport.

London is a total whirlwind. Mostly of work, but she has plenty of fun, too. The time zone conversions are weird and annoying, and when Gerard isn't awake to take her calls or answer her emails, she tries Jeremy because that dude never sleeps. They finally work it out, so Gerard calls her daily her at about the time she's coming back in from the pubs and saying inventively filthy things into the phone. She gets herself off half-tipsy with her hand down her pants on the hotel bed more than once while Gerard talks to her. He doesn't ask her what she's doing; he knows, Frankie is sure. Half the fun, she thinks, is imagining. As she starts dropping off to sleep, he tells her the smaller details of his days: meetings with his partners, movie nights, dinners with Grant.

"I miss you," she whispers down the line two days before she'll get home.

"You'll be home in like, a day and a half," he reminds her.

"Not soon enough," she says sleepily, removing her hand from her pants and rolling off the bed to go wash her hands.

The flight home is endless. Even more so knowing he's waiting to pick her up. She texts him as soon as she lands, figuring he's in the cell phone waiting area. She can't help but grin when he tells her he'll meet her in baggage claim. When she sees him waiting for her, she basically launches herself into his arms. He laughs and twirls her around, and it's stupid and ridiculous and wonderful.

"Where's your car?" Frankie asks as they gather her bags. "Garage?"

"Not quite," Gerard laughs. He takes her hand and leads her out to the curb where she sees a familiar car, and Grant gets out and beams at her.

"Frankie. Welcome home." She lets Gerard watch her bag, and she steps into his arms.

"You came to pick me up! This is rock star treatment," she grins.

"Gerard and I had coffee. He was...anxiously awaiting your arrival," Grant teases. "Someone has to keep him out of trouble."

Frankie laughs and squeezes tight around his waist. "Well, I'm really glad you came. I missed you a whole fucking lot. I nearly called you a couple of times, but it was always at weird times out here."

"You should have, love," Grant says encouragingly. "Your young man has been." Gerard shuts the trunk, and they climb in the car before they get whistled at by the police on duty.

"If you get a call at six am the next time I'm gone, you have only yourself to blame," she teases.

"If blame can be placed for something I'm sure to enjoy, I am happy to accept it." Grant pulls the car into the exit traffic and heads for the freeway. "Where to? Home, Frankie? Dinner?"

"Take out? Then home. That wasn't the worst flight I've ever had, but I'd like to go home," she says. Grant pulls into the parking lot at the Thai place place near her apartment.

"Stay here, you two," he says. "I'll go in and order. Same as last time?" They nod, and he leaves.

Frankie looks at the restaurant, then at her watch, then crawls into the back seat and drapes herself over Gerard. "Tired," she says.

He holds her close and kisses the top of her head. "Missed you so much," he whispers.

She rubs her face against his shoulder. "Me, too. Don't wanna leave again. And the next big trip is spring fashion week, it'll be even longer."

"I'm keeping you in bed for a while now," he says, tipping her face up to kiss her. "Hope you don't have any plans."

"None. Just you. Maybe some breaks for dinners with Grant and Mikey," she murmurs. In reality, she has to finalize the photos from London, do several big shoots in her studio, and three on location. She's pretty sure Gerard has a lot to do, too, but it's nice to dream. Frankie kisses Gerard for a few more minutes; it's nice and slow and lazy, and she's starting to feel the fatigue setting in. She barely hears the car door open again, but she does smell the food - and hear Grant's chuckle.

"This car doesn't have a privacy screen, loves," he says. "And I left my chauffeur hat at home. But I suppose we can make do."

She smiles into the rearview mirror and leans forward to pat his shoulder. "We'll behave."

He drives them to Frankie's apartment. Grant and Gerard insist on carrying her bags inside, and she lets them. She briefly contemplates starting a load of laundry but dismisses it to sit on the couch with Grant and Gerard, inhale Thai food, and listen to Grant tell her about his week. Frankie tries with all her might not to fall asleep, but passes out despite herself. She wakes up in the middle of the night, tucked into bed in her tee shirt and panties, Gerard snoring softly beside her. Damn time zones. She rolls over and cuddles up next to him and lets herself drift until she falls back to sleep. It's good to be home. When morning finally comes, she's awake before Gerard, and she just sits cross-legged and watches Gerard make cute faces.

"Come back down here," he mutters. "It's too early."

"It's lunchtime, and I am starving," she declares. "Feed me."

He laughs, rubbing his face against the pillows and mutters, "But I wanted to fuck you."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Convince me."

He moves closer, rests his chin on her bare thigh, and reaches out to run his hand over her belly and down between her legs, rubbing her clit over her panties. "So beautiful, Frankie. I missed your face."

She runs her fingers through Gerard's hair. "Missed you so damn much."

He pulls himself up and pulls her into his arms. "Missed your mouth," Gerard whispers against her lips. "Then I guess I'd better use it," Frankie replies.

They kiss for a long time, sinking into each other. She missed his mouth too, missed his clever tongue and his bottom lip she loves to nibble.

*

Frankie finds herself as expected, in the middle of a whirlwind of work leading up to Christmas. She spends Christmas with Gerard and his family. They fly their mom and dad out for the holiday, and Frankie meets them. It's nerve-wracking, but it turns out great. They leave right before New Year's. Frankie and Gerard spend that holiday at Grant's. It's a smaller party than his last one, dinner and drinks and conversation. About fifteen minutes before midnight, Frankie interrupts the conversation Gerard is having as politely as possible and tugs him over to a corner of the room. "Grant doesn't have a date," she whispers in his ear.

Gerard wrinkles his nose. Which is cute. And distracting. "Well," he says thoughtfully. "He's the host. And single."

"No, but. It's New Year's Eve. He won't have anyone to--"

"Kiss at midnight?" Gerard finishes.

"It's Grant. He'll probably like... kiss everyone in the house or something, I know, I just thought it was - he should -"

"No, you're right. We could just... make sure? We could both kiss him?" Gerard suggests.

"Best of both worlds, really," Frankie drawls.

There are only about nine people here, and they're scattered around the first floor of Grant's house. Grant has the radio on low through his sound system, and Frankie listens to the DJ chatter and looks for Grant. He appears from the kitchen with a couple of bottles of champagne, and she takes one from him with a smile.

"Time to top everyone off for the big moment?"

"No, those are both for me," he replies innocently.

"Yeah, sure," she says. "Meet you in the middle?"

"Sounds like a plan," he says, and they circle around filling everyone's champagne glasses. Gerard meets them with their own glasses.

"Can't forget yourselves."

"Not likely," Frankie says and fills both glasses to the brim. She's had quite a bit already tonight, but what the hell? Frankie shoots a sidelong glance at Grant. He doesn't seem at all inclined to mingle with the rest of the guests. Well, fine with her.

"Have you enjoyed yourselves?" Grant asks.

"Very much," Frankie answers. "It's been a wonderful party."

"Definitely," Gerard agrees.

Grant uses his fancy remote to turn off the sound system and turn on the TV to the ball drop. Frankie grins. "Tradition, really. Even if it actually happened three hours ago."

"Their bands always suck, though."

"Not always," Gerard replies, and she laughs and stretches to kiss his cheek.

"Too early," Grant says and just then the crowd on TV starts counting down.

"That's okay. He can kiss me anytime," Frankie says.

8 - 7 - 6. Grant raises his glass. "To the coming year." They all drink.

3 - 2 - 1. Frankie cups Grant's cheek and stretches up on her tiptoes to press her lips quickly against his. His hand automatically goes to her lower back to steady her, but she pulls back with a smile, and Gerard takes her place.

"Happy new year," he says when their lips part.

"And to you," Grant replies, looking from Gerard to Frankie. Frankie smiles at him again before leaning over and kissing Gerard. She's suddenly ridiculously fucking happy. Maybe it's just the champagne hitting her system. When she pulls back, Grant is still studying them.

"I am incredibly pleased that the two of you came into my life this--well, last year."

"Seems like a long time, doesn't it?" Gerard says, draping an arm around Frankie.

"It was," she replies, "when you count magazine lead times."

"I suppose I owe your editor a fruit basket, in that case," Grant says.

"And Gerard, for being your biggest fan," she adds pertly. Gerard grins broadly.

"I am, though."

Grant reaches out and squeezes his shoulder and smiles fondly at him. "You are certainly my favorite." He leans in and kisses Gerard's cheek, then Frankie's and goes to exchange new year well-wishes with his other guests. Frankie notices Gerard is flushed and beaming.

"Your crush is showing again," she teases. Gerard turns his grin on her, totally unrepentant.

"And do you blame me?"

"No, I do not," she says with a gentle smile and stretches to kiss him again.

"You taste like champagne," he tells her softly. "And all sorts of good things."

She drains the rest of her glass, coughing a little when the bubbles get the best of her. Gerard laughs at her and pushes her hair out of her face. "Slow down, champ." He pours her another glass anyway. "Let's go mingle."

Mingling is pretty fun all told. This is Grant's inner circle in LA, and everyone is lovely. Frankie feels like all the champagne bubbles are fizzing in her head, but Gerard keeps his arm around her, keeps her steady.

Frankie loses track of time, and the next thing she knows, Grant is saying goodbye to those who are okay to drive and opening guest rooms for those who aren't. Gerard probably could drive - he mumbles something to that effect and promptly spoils it with an eye-watering yawn - but Grant insists they stay.

"You just can't bear to get rid of us, I know the score," Frankie teases. She doesn't remember much about how she gets upstairs into a guest bedroom either, just flashes of giggling and Grant's broad shoulders and her arm wrapped tight around Gerard's waist. But she sleeps about as well as she ever has anywhere and is miraculously not hung over when she wakes up the next morning.

Grant makes them the vegetarian equivalent of a full English breakfast, and they linger over their food like they don't have plans to see him again in a few days.

When they get home, they change into sweats, and Frankie sits in the V of Gerard's legs and calls her family and friends especially Shaun to thank him for suggesting her as the photographer for the inspiration issue to wish them all a happy new year. Despite being away from them, she thinks this is one of the best holiday seasons she's had in a long time.

*

Gerard and his guys are busily prepping for his next project, and Frankie tries to remind herself this means fifteen-hour days for him in the near future. Which means that really, if she's busy too, it won't be the end of the world. They'll hardly have time for each other anyway. They manage to arrange a night with Grant that suits all three of them, and she's so frustrated when her shoot runs late.

Frankie told everyone to take fifteen which always means half an hour between all the agents and assistants hanging around. She locks herself in her little office and calls Grant. "This shoot is never going to end," she moans.

"Difficult subjects or just generally difficult shoot?"

"A little of both?" She slumps down in her chair and runs her hand over her face. "An idea I had didn't work how I wanted it to, and the subject wasn't super cooperative."

"I'm sorry, love. Don't stress about getting here. Come whenever you can," Grant says gently.

"I should call Gerard and tell him not to wait for me," she says.

"Don't worry about that. I'll make sure he knows."

"Thank you," Frankie breathes. "I just want to be done and be with you and Gerard."

"I know, Frankie. I want the same. I have quite the stack of books here for you after our last lunch date."

"Oh, awesome. Even more to look forward to. Okay. Wish me luck. Maybe I'll get through this stupid shoot in one piece," she says.

"Good luck. You'll be fine. I'll save you some wine," he murmurs.

"Yeah, that's the ticket," she says. "Fuck, I have to go. Bye, Grant."

"Bye, love," he replies, and they hang up. She squares her shoulders and stands again. She can do this.

*

Frankie drives her car back to her apartment and changes clothes. She's drooping with exhaustion, but she doesn't want to miss time with Grant and Gerard. She doesn't want to drive, so she says fuck it and calls a cab. Gerard can bring her home later. He'll probably stay over anyway. She fights hard to not doze off in the cab, too. She's still blinking a bit when she rings the doorbell, and Grant opens the door. He just pulls her into a hug immediately and steers her into his media room, shedding her sneakers and messenger bag along the way.

Gerard pulls her down into his arms, and she nestles against his chest. "Hard day, babe?"

She nods against his chest, and Grant hands her a large glass of red wine. Frankie sits up enough that she can sip out of the glass and props her feet up on Grant's bent knee. "This is better," she says.

"Want to tell us about it?" Gerard asks, running strands of her hair through his fingers.

"Mmm. Not much to tell. Just one of those days," she says. Grant puts a hand on her ankle and starts sweeping his thumb over her ankle bone. "I was mostly annoyed at my main shoot idea not working. Everything was stupid after that." She drinks more wine and sighs happily. "Seriously, I feel so much better already."

"We were thinking about watching another movie," Gerard tells her, and she takes in the bowl of popcorn, the dish of finger foods, the blanket crumpled over the arm of the couch for the first time.

"But we don't have to," Grant answers.

"Maybe later? Talk to me. I missed you guys a lot today. Knowing I was gonna be late made me think about you even more," she says.

"I did interviews most of the day today," Grant says. "I'm afraid I am not at my best." She reaches forward and rubs his arm, and he squeezes her ankle, then Frankie looks up at Gerard.

"How about you? Was your day exhausting?"

"A little bit, yeah. Nothing major, just long," he replies. He talks a bit more about something he and Ray are researching, and Frankie has the whole glass of wine gone before they even think about the fact that she hasn't eaten in about ten hours.

"Are you alright? Do you want dinner?" Grant's brow is wrinkled with concern.

"Too tired to eat," Frankie mumbles, waving a hand vaguely. She's just feeling happy and nearly drunk, and she likes being here, warm and relaxed and pressed between them. "Stop moving around," she says crankily to Grant. Grant chuckles.

"If you insist, love." He settles back down and rests his arm on her leg and squeezes her knee. He's got his thumb making circles on her calf, and she trails off a few times in conversation. Gerard is nodding off behind her. She catches Grant looking at them with a strange expression that makes her stomach flip, but she's too tired and tipsy to try to decipher what it means.

After a while Grant pats her calf. "You should sleep over. You're both clearly exhausted."

"Yeah," she murmurs. She doesn't move, though. Doesn't want Grant to get up and shuffle them up to the guest bedroom. She likes being between them like this too much. She closes her eyes for a moment; one glass of wine, even on an empty stomach, is not enough to account for the strange swooping in her stomach. She pretends not to know that.

After a while, she feels Grant's hand on her face. He pushes her hair back behind her ear. "You should go up to bed, love."

"Don' wanna," she mutters, linking their fingers absentmindedly. It's a mistake because he uses them to tug her to her feet. She slumps against him for a moment. He chuckles into the top of her head and wraps his arms around her briefly.

"Upstairs, love. I'll get Gerard up, too." Frankie heads slowly for the door, listening to Grant murmur to Gerard. They follow behind her as she walks up the stairs.

"Same room?" Frankie yawns.

"Yes, Frankie," Grant says. He tugs Gerard into the room and smiles at Frankie as she crawls into the bed and flops down. Gerard makes no move to leave Grant's side.

"Am I going to have to tuck you in?" Grant murmurs to him.

"You...I can..." Gerard trails off. Frankie sneaks a peek in time to see Grant hug Gerard's head to his shoulder for a moment, then give him a little push. He waits until Gerard reaches the bed, then flips the light off and closes the door quietly.

She's awake now. Still exhausted, but awake and as her eyes adjust to the dimness of the room, she can see that Gerard is, too. She leans in to kiss him, and he wraps a hand around her hip and pulls her close.

"Frankie," he whispers, sounding cut off, oddly hesitant.

"Fuck," she says back. He hasn't stopped touching her, hands creeping under her shirt, and the gentle sweeps of his hand are bringing her skin to life. She throws her leg over his thigh and rolls over, pulling him on top of her. They kiss and kiss. Gerard lifts up, pushes her shirt up over her tits and pulls down the cup of her bra and gets his mouth on her nipple.

"Let's get this off you," he mutters into her skin. Frankie arches obligingly, so he can unclasp her bra and push the whole tangle of fabric over her head and off. His mouth is back on her immediately, nuzzling her breasts and licking up her sternum to her ear. "Fuck, Frankie," he whispers.

She moves her hips against his. "Pants," she gasps. "Need you inside me."

She's so fucking glad she managed to get on birth control a couple months ago. Gerard rolls off of her, so they can both wriggle out of their pants - wouldn't be the first time Frankie's passed out in jeans, but she lets out a sigh of relief anyway at the slide of her bare legs against the sheets. Gerard finishes a moment later and slides a hand up her thigh, straight to her cunt. She gasps fucking loud and presses a hand over her own mouth, eyes wide. He just smirks down at her and works her with his fingers. He strokes her g-spot with his fingers and over her clit with his thumb.

"Gee," she moans. She can't help it. "Please. Need your cock."

"Right now, you ready?" he asks, shifting against her, guiding her thighs apart.

"So fucking ready," she whispers, and he takes his hand out of her cunt and rubs it over his cock before sinking into her slowly. She puts her hand over her mouth and bites down, so she doesn't make noise, but he takes her hand away and covers her lips with his.

"God, Frankie," he mutters when he pulls back to move his hips. "How do you always feel so good?"

She tries to answer but just whimpers, sneaking a hand between them to rub at her clit as he mouths at her neck and rolls his hips. She wants to say the same, that he makes her feel so good that sometimes she can hardly stand it, but the words are lost in a moan she can't contain. Gerard speeds up his thrusts, and she wraps her legs around his waist and thrusts up to meet him.

"More," she gasps. "Faster." She has to come now, or she's convinced she'll die. She twists her hands in his hair and licks into his mouth, arching against him. He does as she asks. They're both already so far gone, there's really no stopping or slowing down. She feels warm and perfect. Almost like she did on the couch with Gerard and Grant. She arches up and clenches around Gerard.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants in her ear. He slips a hand between them to stroke her off, biting down on the side of her neck. Frankie makes a choked-off noise that maybe sounds like his name and comes hard, digging her fingernails into his shoulders. Gerard fucks her through it and comes after, muffling his shout in her shoulder.

They've been loud. Too loud, probably. But god, it felt good. It still feels fucking good with Gerard still inside her, her entire pussy still pulsing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. He collapses back down on top of her, and he's heavy but also warm, and Frankie loves the feel of him. She clings to him, and he clings back.

"Can't keep my hands off you, Frankie. Not ever," Gerard whispers.

"We were so loud," Frankie laments. Her gut feels weirdly squirmy about it.

"Couldn't help it," he murmurs, pulling out. "You make me feel so fucking good; I couldn't stop. We missed you tonight. Talked about you a lot. I thought about you a lot. This is what happens when I think about you a lot, I guess."

Frankie giggles in his ear, and he moves around and pulls her back against his chest. "Well, I can't really complain about that at the moment. Not when I'm feeling so well-fucked."

She'll need to get cleaned up in the ensuite bathroom in a bit, but for now she relishes the feel of Gerard's naked body behind her. Frankie's sobered up a lot now, but exhaustion is setting back in. She rolls out of bed and cleans up before crawling back into the warm bed with Gerard, who, typically, is entirely happy to stay dirty. She falls asleep with her face pressed against his neck and wakes up the next morning the same way.

She doesn't know what time it is. Probably pretty early. She nuzzles against his neck, and he mutters something about Batman but doesn't wake up. Frankie smiles, pulls out of his arms, and dresses in yesterday's clothes. She makes her way downstairs and smells coffee halfway through the living room. Apparently Grant is up.

Grant is leaning on the counter looking out his kitchen window, and something strikes Frankie as sad about him, but when she says good morning, he turns with a smile and laughs.

"Oh, Frankie." He tugs at her sleeve until he can reach her hair, and she realizes it must be standing on end like it always does in the morning. She wrinkles her nose at him, and he smooths his hand through her hair over and over.

"It won't help," she says, but he doesn't stop, and she doesn't pull away.

He smiles softly down at her. "You're right, it's not working at all."

"You're just going to have to let me be a mess," she tells him.

"You're lovely even when your hair is sticking up in absurd directions," he tells her seriously and pulls her close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I suppose you'll be wanting coffee."

"Mmm," she replies. Coffee can wait a bit. Frankie is really trying to ignore how much she wants to coil herself around Grant like a fucking snake.

He leans down and kisses the top of her head before pulling back and pouring her a cup of coffee. "How are you feeling this morning, love?"

"I'm fine, really. Was fine last night too, just -"

"Exhausting yourself all day and drinking?" he teases gently.

"Yeah, that. Trying to get everything done; I think I overbooked myself." Just talking about it makes her frown. "And Gerard is, too."

"If you aren't around, I will make sure he eats and sleeps," Grant says. "As will Mikey, I am sure."

She smiles. "Don't forget about yourself in the process."

"Never do, love." He smiles and sips from his mug.

"Good." Gerard shuffles in then, looking bleary and rumpled and adorable.

Grant just laughs. "The both of you."

Gerard grumbles and steals Frankie's mug. Grant reaches out for Gerard but seems to think better of it and goes to pour Frankie another cup of coffee.

"It's early," Gerard says after he's had a few swallows of coffee.

"You do disgusting things to coffee," Frankie tells him, watching her former cup get murdered.

"I just make it drinkable," Gerard says.

"I think I should be offended at you disparaging my coffee making skills," Grant says seriously.

"Ignore him until cup two," Frankie recommends. This time Grant doesn't stop himself, he just reaches out and ruffles Gerard's hair, then smoothes it down gently. "Noted. Can I get you anything else? Breakfast? I can manage not to ruin an egg." He sounds nervous.

"We don't want to be demanding," Frankie says. "Since we crashed and all." She rubs absently at her neck and hisses when she hits - fuck, she's got to have a hickey. Which Grant is now clearly studying.

"It would take quite a lot for me to find either of you overly demanding. I seem to recall insisting that you stay," Grant says, and his eyes come back to Frankie's. He's not going to say anything, she realizes. She's not sure why she's thinking like this all of a sudden. She wonders how much he heard last night. Maybe he didn't hear anything. She turns into Gerard's side and rubs her face against his shoulder. Gerard makes sense to her.

"I can't stay for breakfast," Gerard says. "I have to get into the office. Frankie, are you -"

"I can drive her home, Gerard," Grant says. "No worries."

Gerard leans down to kiss her and pats himself down to make sure he has everything and leaves.

"So, breakfast, love?" Grant asks her. "Or I can take you home if you need to."

"I have to go, too," she says, frowning. "Lunch meeting, have to look like a real girl for this one because they're snooty bitches." She tugs at her hair.

"You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever known," Grant tells her. "Looking like a quote 'real girl' or not."

Frankie's stomach swoops. "Grant...."

"Don't," he says.

"I was just going to say thank you," she whispers. "And hey -" she adds, voice strengthening, "I'll dress up pretty, I'll take their money, and then I'll do what I fucking please."

"Good," he says and squeezes her shoulder. "Shall I take you home? Do you need to get anything from upstairs?"

She shakes her head. "No, my bag is still down here."

Frankie regales Grant on the way home with stories about this particular client, who she's worked with before, "And I keep coming back, yeah, because it's fucking good for my career, and they pay well. I just keep my nasty thoughts to myself. Someday I'll be big enough to tell them where to stick it." Frankie cackles. "I think I'll wear a pair of Gerard's briefs under my dress, too. That'll make me feel a lot better."

Grant cuts her a look. His chuckle has something beneath it, too.

She holds in a shiver as he pulls up to her building. She leans over the gearshift of his ridiculous yellow sports car and kisses his cheek. "Thank you for the ride."

"My pleasure, Ms. Iero," he murmurs.

"We'll hang out again soon, I promise. I even promise to not be exhausted and late the next time," she says.

He chuckles. "If you insist," he replies and cups her cheek. "Good luck with the meeting, Frankie."

"Thanks," she grins. The smile fades as soon as she gets inside her building. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chants under her breath as she unlocks her door. She puts everything out of her mind, though. She has to get ready, she has to look good, she has to sell a shoot concept and make it amazing. And then Gerard will come home, and they'll have a normal evening, and it will be fine.

*

The last week of January, Grant calls and says he wants to take them out to dinner on the thirty-first. "My treat," he says. And then he suggests a really nice Italian restaurant that Frankie knows only by name.

"We'll be there," she promises. The next few days go quickly, and on the day of, she gets a text from Grant saying he's looking forward to seeing her that night. It makes her smile the rest of the day.

"Grant texted me earlier and said he was looking forward to dinner," Gerard tells her when he picks her up.

Frankie grins. "Me, too."

He kisses her on the cheek and whispers, "You look gorgeous."

"Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself." She tugs on his tie.

Grant looks nice too - better than nice. He's waiting for them in the vestibule of the building, but they are whisked straight to a table when they walk in. They make small talk until they order wine and appetizers, which Grant insists on, saying, "Tonight, we splurge and indulge ourselves."

"Is it a special occasion?" Frankie asks.

"It's my birthday, actually," Grant replies.

"Your birthday! Why didn't you tell us?" Gerard asks.

"Because last year I had a big party with lots of guests, and it was lovely, but this year I decided to spend it simply with two of my dearest friends," Grant replies.

"You haven't known us very long," Frankie points out because things like this sometimes come out of her mouth despite her best efforts.

"Do you disagree that we've become close friends, Frankie?" he asks with a smile.

"No. Not at all." She wrinkles her nose. "I'm being a jerk again. You're... it just always takes me by surprise. Surely I didn't meet two incredible people about the same time and become such good friends with both of them. It feels like I cheated or something," she tries to explain.

"No one's imposing a quota," Grant teases, flicking a strand of her hair behind her ear. She looks involuntarily at Gerard. Gerard glances at Grant and turns back to Frankie with a smile, tucking her hair behind the opposite ear.

"I put out into the world that I wanted to have a conversation with Grant Morrison. I didn't expect any of what came from it, but I'm not going to argue. Especially since that's how I met Frankie, too."

Frankie smiles at Gerard, leans over to kiss his cheek, then reaches out to squeeze Grant's hand. "Well, happy birthday, Grant. I'm really glad we can spend it with you."

It's easy to not think when she's around Grant and Gerard - or, more accurately, to think enough about the most crazy concepts to distract her from more mundane concerns. It's a fun evening. She can't stop watching Grant, though. He seems relaxed and happy which is how it should be if he's having a simple birthday dinner with just a couple of close friends. Every look he exchanges with her or with Gerard makes her feel warm. But every time she tries to analyze it, one of them says something insanely awesome, and she's distracted again.

It hits her as they're sipping coffee: how she'd pleaded with him the other week not to tell her she was beautiful, how he'd said "Don't." He'd said "dearest friends" with the same tone in his voice, and she can't tell if he's daring her to push the issue or begging her not to. Tonight's not the night to make that call anyway. She just enjoys her coffee and attempts not to make obscene noises over the tiramisu.

Someone calls her as she trails Gerard toward the door. It's a client, and Frankie flashes Grant a small smile and inclines her head. He follows Gerard while she stops to answer. They apologize profusely for calling so late in the evening and tell her they'll probably be an hour late to the shoot tomorrow. Frankie tells them it's fine, thanks for letting her know, and hangs up. When she looks back at Grant and Gerard, Grant has his arm around Gerard's waist. Gerard turns into it, wrapping both arms around Grant and squeezing. And Grant - his face - He looks so tender.

He drops a kiss on top of Gerard's head and straightens up, smiling when he sees Frankie. "All good news, I hope?"

"Just a client," she assures him and gives the valet the ticket from her bag. "Come here for a birthday hug." Gerard squeezes him around the waist one more time and steps back. Frankie steps forward and wraps her arms around Grant. She holds him close and tight. His arms snake around her waist, and he's making her feel so many things she's a little dizzy. "Thank you," she murmurs into his shoulder.

"I think that's my line," he answers. She shakes her head against him.

"Happy birthday," she repeats. "I'm really glad Gee and I could spend it with you."

"It is exactly what I wanted," Grant says. She feels a kiss on her temple and then he steps back. "My car is here."

Gerard steps up beside her. "Happy birthday, Grant," he says.

"Goodnight, you two," Grant says as he gets in his car. "Thank you for the perfect evening."

Gerard wraps an arm around her waist while they wait for his car. He leans in and kisses her temple, right where Grant had, and she sighs. "I wish he'd told us it was his birthday," Frankie murmurs.

"I think... all he wanted was us," Gerard replies as their car pulls up. She shoots Gerard a sidelong look, but he's busy dealing with the valet, and she can't quite tell how he meant that. She bites her lip. Doesn't do any good to dwell on this, Frankie thinks.

The drive back to Gerard's condo is short. Frankie is preoccupied with thoughts of Grant for most of the ride and is surprised when they're sitting in his parking spot, and Gerard's hand is creeping up her thigh. "Oh," she says rather dumbly.

"Oh?" Gerard questions. "Oh, no or oh, yes?"

"Definitely yes. Just. Surprised we're already here," she says with a smile and pulls his hand all the way up the inseam of her slacks. He rubs her clit lightly through the layers of fabric and then pulls his hand back to take the keys out of the ignition and get out. He laces their fingers together as they go up the walk.

She squeezes his fingers, and when they he gets the door open, she tugs him back against her. "Frankie," he whispers, and she runs her hands up his chest, nuzzles his shoulder blades.

"Gee. Gerard. You're so -" He's beautiful. "I love looking at you."

"The feeling is completely fucking mutual," he says and pulls her up the stairs, past the open doors of his office and guest rooms and into the bedroom. He puts his hands on her shoulders and just stares into her face for a moment before wrapping her tightly in his arms and crushing her to him, his mouth trailing over her cheek, down her chin, and up to her lips. He's a lot less controlled than Frankie's used to, hands darting all over her, starting on her shirt hem only to move to her buttons. Her collar. The zip of her slacks. She can hardly get her own hands on him for all he's moving. Finally, he settles on tugging a few more of the buttons on her shirt open and then pulling it over her head.

Frankie grabs hold of Gerard's tie eventually, laughing when he freezes completely. "Heel, boy," she whispers. "Let's get you undressed too, dumbass."

"Don't wanna stop touching you," he whispers.

"Once we get me naked, you can do whatever touching you want. I just want your skin against mine, okay?" He nods and lets her tug on the knot of his tie as he unbuttons his waistcoat.

"Cat got your tongue?" Frankie whispers when Gerard strips silently. His eyes never leave her. When he's naked, he steps forward, and he's looking so intent now. He gets her slacks and sandals off and tugs her underwear down after them and sinks to his knees in front of her. He always saves her bra for last. He runs his mouth over her hips and belly and slides two fingers inside her, pulling them out slow and rubbing over her clit. "Gee," she moans.

He looks up at her with a smirk and stands again. He unsnaps her bra and pulls the straps down her shoulders, then cups her breasts in his hands and leans down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other. Frankie squeezes her thighs together and moves her hips against his. He's so fucking hard for her and god, she wants him. She backs up to the bed and sits down. When she moves back to lean against the pillows, Gerard grabs her ankle and holds her still. "Roll over onto your stomach."

"Gee," she breathes.

"Please, baby, let me," he replies.

"Yes," she says emphatically and turns over. It's been a while since she had this, but fuck, she needs it. Needs him. He kneels on the bed next to her and runs his hand down her spine and over her ass.

"Up for me," Gerard murmurs. She pushes herself up on her elbows, and Gerard sucks in a breath next to her. "God, Frankie. So hot." He runs his fingers lightly down the cleft of her ass.

"Nnnf," she breathes. She's expecting it, but she still gasps at the hot wash of breath over her thighs. She definitely gasps at the decisive swipe of Gerard's tongue over her pussy, along the cleft of her ass to tease at her hole. He puts his palms on her ass and spreads her wide, his tongue pressing against the ring of muscle and then down, dipping into her cunt and back up.

He's relentless, teasing her with his tongue and then pressing with his thumb, rubbing circles against the sensitive skin until her nerve endings fizz, and she whines and grinds back against his mouth. She feels his chuckle more than hears it.

"You want my fingers, Frankie?" he murmurs.

"Yes, Gee. More. Anything," she begs. He grabs lube then gives her a finger immediately, pressing it in slowly but steadily. "Oh god. Oh fuck," she pants.

"Is it good, Frankie?" he asks.

"Yes. Fuck. So good, Gee. More."

"How much more, baby?" he asks, kissing the dimples at the base of her spine.

"Everything," she moans as he gives her a second finger. He runs his other hand up her inner thigh, sliding through her wetness to rub slow circles over her clit as he thrusts his fingers in and out of her ass.

"You're so gorgeous," he tells her. "You feel so good." He sounds short of breath.

"More, Gee," she breathes. He speeds up his fingers on her clit and slowly, steadily adds a third finger. All Frankie can do is pant. She presses her face against the mattress, rocking back and forth and moaning when he slips his tongue between her folds and starts fucking her with that, too. She can feel her orgasm build, wave after wave of sensation moving out from her pussy and reaching every part of her body. She comes hard, clenching around his fingers and tongue, moaning his name.

"Fuck. Gee, fuck me please," she begs as she thrusts back against his face.

"Okay, Frankie, baby, okay," he pants. "I just gotta -"

He pulls his fingers out, and she whimpers, then she feels him shift behind her, looks over her shoulder at him. He's flushed and biting his lip as he slicks up his cock.

And then he's gripping her hips, and the tip of his cock presses against her ass. It's a gentle pressure, and when the head pushes inside, she moans, "Gerard."

"Deep breath, keep breathing," he says. She's not sure if it's more for her or himself. He pushes in so slowly that she's still seeing sparks by the time he stops and readjusts his grip. He splays his hands over the small of her back and makes short, slow thrusts. "Fuck, Frankie. So fucking tight."

She groans. "Gee...more."

She feels both full and empty at the same time. He deepens his thrusts, and she can't hold up her head anymore, has to put it down on her arm and moan. Frankie feels Gerard's thumbs drawing circles on her hips, and she moves back against him as best as she can.

"Gee," she keens. He groans.

"Frankie. I can't -" He pulls out and rolls her over, mouthing at her stomach as he wraps a hand around his cock and strokes hard. One more stroke, and he's coming hard over her thighs and pussy. He leans down and licks her clean and wraps his lips around her clit and sucks. Her hips come up off the bed, and she thrusts against his face, gasping his name. He's got her going crazy against his tongue in moments, every movement collecting like a static charge.

She sinks her hands into his hair, bucks up against his mouth and comes, gasping his name. He keeps licking as she comes, gentling the strokes of his tongue until she's finished. She tugs at his hair until he lifts up and settles on top of her, his mouth on her neck, her cheek, her lips. He tastes like a mix of them both. She moans into his mouth and runs her fingers through his hair over and over.

"Gonna feel you for days," she whispers in his ear. He moans and bites down lightly on her neck.

"I love you so fucking much," he says.

"Love you, too," she whispers back and wraps her arms around his neck. They stay like that for a long time before dragging themselves to the bathroom to clean up.

*

The next few weeks get steadily more stressful. Gerard is working all hours, revising scripts and storyboards and doing concept art even though he does actually pay people to do concept art for him. Three quarters of the time, if Frankie wakes up in the night, Gerard isn't in bed next to her. If they're in his condo, he’s in the chair by the bed or, if they're at her place, at the little writing desk she has in the corner. He always looks exhausted in the blue glow of his laptop screen.

Frankie feels terrible that she can't help more, but she knows it's a fact of his life. At some point, they'll both be having super stressful times, and that's sure to be a motherfucking joy. But for now, she has a stress-filled couple of days periodically, and that's it.

Tonight, she wakes up not just to then click of keys but to his voice.

"I don't know if I can do this," he murmurs. "This is big, and it's all on my fucking shoulders."

Frankie's heard it before; he worries constantly about working with a major, if he's meeting expectations.

"I've just never... it's always been a case of building my reputation and less making or breaking my career... I know. You'd think that between you and Frankie, some of your confidence in me would have rubbed off."

She can see his rueful little smile in the dim light.

"Fuck you," Gerard says lazily. "Yeah, I do think it's a control issue. A little. A lot, maybe."

She smiles a little bit into the dark.

"I know... yeah, I know that, too... I know I need to just let go and trust the people I hired to do their jobs. I wouldn't have hired them if they weren't awesome... Yeah, it's totally a dick move, and I don't want them to all hate me by the end, either."

"No, that's not the only... Well, there's Frankie. How am I supposed to be a good boyfriend like this? I've never done this before."

Frankie has to stop herself from getting up and going to him immediately. She concentrates on breathing normally and listens to what he says next.

"My usual pattern is getting so lost in work that I don't resurface until it's done. I can't... I love her so much. I can't do that to her, but I've never done it any different."

"Grant," he says quietly. Frankie didn't know who he was talking to until now, but she's not really surprised. "Grant, I am a fuckup. I have a history of being a fuckup. I know all I can do is try."

"Yeah. I know. And you already have been helping me break some of those patterns. Between you and Frankie, I'm already doing better. I'm just... afraid."

"I know. I can't even - I don't even know how to tell you what you mean to me." His voice cracks.

Frankie bites her lip, hard.

"Yeah. Yeah, me, too. Okay. You should sleep, too, you know... Yeah, she's sleeping. Goodnight, Grant." Gerard smiles. "Yeah, yeah. Good morning, then."

Frankie's chest feels tight, but she's suddenly, irrationally determined not to let him know she'd woken up and overheard. She keeps her breathing steady, and when he pulls back the covers and gets in, she rolls toward him and wraps around him.

"Frankie?" he whispers, covering one of her hands and pulling it tighter around him. She just murmurs something soft and presses her face against the back of his neck. And holds on until one or the other of them falls asleep.

*

Two days later, Gerard announces that he wants to throw a party for all his friends. Frankie just smiles and asks what she can do to help.

"Help me shop? You know how I get in the grocery store."

"I can do that," she replies with a giggle. "I could take pictures if you wanted, too?"

"If you're sure it wouldn't make the party too much like work?" She nods. "Okay." He grins. "It's not every day someone gets their private party photographed by award-winning photographer Frankie Iero."

"I promise I won't sell them to the wire service. Except maybe the ones of you."

He laughs. "I don't think the wire services would be terribly interested since the most famous guest other than me will be Grant."

"TMZ? Will there be debauchery? Everyone promised me LA had debauchery and so far..." She trails off and he laughs.

"I'll give you your own personal demonstration."

"I think you've been pretty successfully giving me a lot of personal demonstrations," she replies. "Besides. Nobody would consider us terribly sordid. Unless maybe they started photographing all our dinners with Grant and jumping to conclusions."

Gerard doesn't reply right away, and that's when she knows. Something is going on here, something big and messy, and she just doesn't know how to deal with it on her own. She wants to say something to Gerard, to talk about it, but she doesn't know what she'd say. This isn't exactly something that's in her realm of experience.

"Let 'em talk," Gerard says finally. Noncommittal. "We're allowed to do what we want."

"Okay, so no TMZ. Well, it sounds fun, Gee," she says, slipping a hand into his. He smiles and squeezes her hand.

"It'll probably degenerate into a giant D&D campaign. I just... when I start a new project, I tend to turn into Mr. Workaholic. And I'm trying not to do that so much this time. Hence the party."

"I think it's a good idea," she says, stretching to kiss him.

*

The next two weeks are a flurry of work and party prep. It's pretty fun to do it all with Gerard, and it really gets her thinking that they should move in together sooner rather than later. She's basically throwing this party with him, not just being a helpful girlfriend.

"Gee," she says one night when he curls up next to her on the couch, "I don't know if this is out of line, but...why are we still living out of two places? We're always both in one of them."

"Um," Gerard says looking down at her. Frankie prepares for the worst. "Well, because I'm distractible. Also I didn't know if it would be creepy to ask you to move in with me already?"

"You, creepy?" Gerard makes a face at her and she laughs. "I like creepy, lucky for you. I...it's been months, though, and if it makes sense... I think it'll have to wait until after my Toronto trip," Frankie says. "But I really want it to happen."

"Yeah," Gerard says and a smile blooms across his face. "Me, too."

The day of the party is actually pretty chill. They get most everything done beforehand and just have to go to work, come home, and open the door when people knock or ring the bell. And they knock, and knock. Frankie is surprised how many people Gerard actually knows. She has met quite a few of them, but there are a lot of new faces, too. It's kind of overwhelming, and she starts wondering how all these people are going to fit in Gerard's condo. When Grant arrives, she throws her arms around his neck and squeezes.

"Well," he says, sounding pleased. "That's a welcome greeting."

"You're a very welcome face," she says as Grant hugs her back. "Let's get you a drink." When she pulls back, she takes his hand in hers and tugs him toward the kitchen. Gerard is in there talking to Mikey. "Look who I found," Frankie beams, pulling Grant after her.

Gerard grins wide at them and goes in for a hug, too. "I'm so glad you came," Gerard says into Grant's shoulder.

"Wouldn't have missed it," Grant replies. Frankie meets Mikey's eye as Gerard and Grant hug. Frankie can't read the look on Mikey's face, but after half a beat he smiles at her.

"Hey, Mikey Way. Where'd Alicia disappear to?"

"Oh, she and Sarah are harassing some of the guys out in the courtyard," Mikey says.

"You'll get dragged into it if you go out there," Gerard adds, transferring his arm to Frankie's waist.

"I just came to get Grant a drink," she says. Grant has the fridge open and pulls out a beer.

"Sorted, love," he says with a grin.

"Well, fine, make me feel useless," she says, sticking her tongue out. He laughs.

"You could never be useless, and you led me to where the drinks are located, besides. That's a high level of usefulness."

"I led you to Gerard, too," she points out.

"You did. Perhaps even more useful than leading me to the drinks. Perhaps," he says and winks at Gerard.

"I'll put it on my character stats. Well, I was on my way out back for a smoke," she says. "Like, before you got here. So I don't know if -"

"I'll walk with you," Grant says. Frankie hooks her hand around Grant's elbow.

"Oh, I see how it is," Gerard teases. "Abandoning me for nicotine."

"And the pleasant evening," Grant adds.

"Just come, Gee. Most everyone is here anyway," Frankie says.

"Go on, Gerard," Mikey says. He still has a speculative look on his face.

Frankie takes Gerard's hand and laces their fingers together without letting go of Grant. Gerard leads their little chain out to the courtyard and helpfully gets Frankie's cigarettes out of her pocket and lights one. Frankie perches on the back of the bench where Gerard and Grant sit to help keep her smoke away. Someone curls their fingers around her ankle. It only hits her to look who it is after a few drags. She leans down and rests her cheek on the top of Grant's head, feels the slight stubble there. She lifts her head again to take a long drag off her cigarette and runs her fingers through Gerard's hair. He steals her cigarette and takes a few puffs.

"Sick of host duties?" she asks him.

"Nah," Gerard replies. "Maybe if you weren't here to help with that, but a little break is nice."

"I just got here. I am sick of nothing," Grant says, squeezing her ankle.

"At least you're not sick of us," Frankie says. "Although I am going away next week."

"And I shall miss you while you're away," Grant says. "You'll both have to come over before you leave, so I can send you off properly."

"Of course," Frankie says. "Hey, Gee, didn't you say you wanted to introduce Grant to someone who was going to be here tonight?"

"Oh! Yeah. Stay right here," Gerard says and goes over to the door leading inside and yells through it. "Hey, Jon, c'mere!"

Jon comes out with a sea captain's hat on an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth. Frankie bursts out laughing.

"Jon, you are a ridiculous human," she tells him.

"You should talk, short stuff," he says amiably. "And here is a man who needs no introduction," he says to Grant, holding out a hand. Grant stands and shakes his hand with a grin.

"Grant, this is Jon Rivera. We met back at SVA, and now he's finally moved out here, so he can work for me."

"Good to meet you," Grant says. "Gerard, you seem to be continuing your streak of collecting the most interesting people."

"Clearly that includes you," Gerard says with a grin.

"Obviously," Grant replies. "Jon, what will you be doing for Gerard specifically?"

"I'm gonna wear a lot of hats, but he tells me I'm going to focus on concept and set design," Jon says.

"It'll be good for you to have some help in that area," Grant says to Gerard, setting a hand on his shoulder.

Gerard nods. "And Jon knows me, knows my taste and what I'm likely to want. I feel a lot better with him on the payroll."

Jon and Grant and Gerard seem to be settling in for a conversation, but Frankie needs a drink. She stubs out her cigarette and climbs down from the bench. Grant catches her hand and squeezes quick as she walks away. She grins at him over her shoulder and goes in to grab a beer from the fridge. She goes back outside but walks over to where Alicia and Sarah are shooting the shit with several people. She and Sarah actually have quite a bit in common, and they end up sharing tour stories. Alicia has a lot to say as well. Frankie had no idea she'd been a tour tech.

When Mikey joins them, she puts her eyebrow up and says, "Damn, Mikeyway, you hit the lottery."

He smirks. "I did."

"I'm surprised I never met either of you," she says to Alicia and Sarah. "I've been on so many fucking tours, you'd think there'd have been overlap at some point."

"The world is weird," Sarah says. "Guess we all had to show up in a small town like this one." She winks.

Frankie laughs. "Seriously, LA is fucking tiny sometimes. Despite the eight million people."

"It's probably the fact that all the cool people tend to flock together and leave the rest to do their thing," Alicia says.

"If all the cool people flock together, what are you doing hanging out with Gerard?" Frankie teases.

"I inherited him," Alicia says. "What's your excuse?"

"He looks really hot in a leather jacket?" Frankie offers with a smirk.

"Yeah, that's how he suckers you in," Alicia says. "Then you find out about the...everything else." She's smiling though. Frankie knows Alicia loves her brother-in-law.

After a while, Frankie excuses herself and goes to grab her camera. She wanders around for a while taking pictures and talking to people, but it's hard to keep herself away from Gerard and Grant for long. They're still talking. Frankie is not surprised. She takes a couple pictures of them first. They don't know she's doing it, and after a few shots she's regrettably, undeniably short of breath. They're so beautiful. Both of them. Frankie has never lied to herself about the things she sees through her camera lens.

They notice her and start mugging for the camera, finally sitting close with their arms around each other and their cheeks practically touching. She bites her lip and snaps about twenty shots before going over and sitting in Gerard's lap, swinging her legs up and over Grant's.

"Got anything juicy for TMZ?" Gerard whispers, touching his lips to her neck. She cups his cheek and lifts his head to kiss him on the lips.

"Plenty," she mumbles. Grant curls his hand around Frankie's knee, and she holds in a shiver. "You're kind of forgetting your other guests, babe?" she whispers against Gerard's lips.

"Not forgetting," he mumbles, but he doesn't move right away. They sit quietly for several minutes until a crash and laughter, including Mikey's distinctive cackle, comes from the open door of the house. Gerard huffs a laugh against her cheek. "Better go see if they broke anything important."

He eases out from under her, leaving her on the bench with her legs still in Grant's lap.

"You ought to go meet some more people, too," Frankie offers.

"I've seen everyone I came to see," he answers. "But perhaps you can introduce me." He doesn't seem too inclined to move either, tracing the weave of her jeans over her knee with a finger.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asks.

"Mmm. Too many to share. Most predominantly, that it is a lovely evening, and the company is lovelier," he says.

"Flatterer," she says quietly. She doesn't have the energy to think about things beyond that. He just shoots her a look.

"Show me your photos, Frankie?" he asks. She swings her legs around and off Grant's lap but settles next to him with her thigh right against his. She pulls her camera up and switches it to view only mode. Grant leans close, and they start going through the photos from the beginning of the card. This is her favored personal camera, and there's some older stuff on there as well, snapshots of Gerard and their friends, of her and Jeremy at the Museum of Death, interesting things she's seen around town.

Grant lays his fingers on her wrist when he wants her to pause. A couple times he nearly touches the screen, asks her a few questions, but mostly he's just there, looking. She gets the weird feeling that he's reading her diary. Then they get to some photos she forgot about. Photos of Gerard sleeping, early morning shadows playing over his face and bare shoulders. They're not sexy, but they were meant just for her.

Grant doesn't do much more than breathe, but she chokes out a "Sorry" and keeps flipping, cheeks hot.

They're to the party photos next, and she breathes out. He laughs at the silly ones, asks her about others, and when they get to the ones of him and Gerard, he goes quiet again. They really are striking shots. When they get to the end, he murmurs, "I'd love to have a print of some of those if you wouldn't mind horribly."

"The best ones, I promise," Frankie says. What else can she say? She wouldn't want to say no anyway. "C'mon. We should go be social. I'll introduce you to some people."

She keeps meaning to sneak away with her camera again, but he keeps including her in all his conversations. It's fine. She likes being part of conversations with him. She realizes a few minutes later that he's a little bit nervous, that having her there is making him feel more confident. She never really thought of Grant as shy but maybe he is.

Jon and Ray join them at some point, and Frankie is sure the Way brothers won't be far behind. Sure enough, a few minutes later she startles a little bit when Gerard's arms wrap around her from behind. Mikey hops up on an empty barstool beside them. "All my favorites," Gerard mumbles into her ear. He sounds tired. She rests her arms on top of his and leans back against his shoulder.

"We're an elite group of awesome people," Jon says.

"Like superheroes?" Frankie says.

"I think we'd make a fucking great band of superheroes," Gerard says.

"Grant's already a superhero." Frankie shoots a smirk at Grant.

"Most say supervillain," Grant shrugs.

"Nah. Hero. With some anti-hero vibes sometimes but always a hero," Frankie says.

"You're biased," Mikey says.

"Do you disagree, Mikey Way?" she asks, eyebrow raised.

"Didn't say that," he replies.

Grant smiles at her. "I appreciate your biases, Frankie."

"You better," she shoots back with a grin.

"So the party was good?" Gerard asks after a few minutes of discussing what their superpowers would be.

"It's great," says Jon.

"Nice," Ray says. "Back to normal tomorrow, I guess?"

"Good. I'm trying this new thing where I don't become a workaholic hermit while I'm working on this movie," he says. "So bug me if I start doing that."

"Ten-four," Ray says. "Frankie, this must be your doing?"

"He came up with it all on his own," Frankie says. "I played no part."

"I may have," Grant says. "For your benefit, of course, love."

Frankie smiles. "Not just my benefit, I'm sure." Gerard leans in and kisses her temple.

"I will admit, I'd rather not see him work himself into the ground forsaking all else," Grant tells her. "And I rather enjoy spending time with the both of you, so perhaps there was a certain amount selfish intent."

"Well, whatever it was, I think we all thank you," she replies and turns her head to capture Gerard's lips with hers.

Guests start leaving soon after - some had already gone - and Gerard and Frankie get pulled away to say goodnight. They call cabs for a few people and give lots of hugs and handshakes until they turn and realize the only people left are Mikey and Alicia chatting with Grant. Frankie and Gerard join them, but soon the three of them are leaving all at once, and there's rather a confusion of hugs and kisses. Frankie intercepts another of Mikey's searching looks.

She says to Gerard as they're half-heatedly straightening up the kitchen, "I think your brother thinks Grant's my thing on the side."

"That's funny, I thought he thought the same about me," Gerard answers but adds immediately, "Joke's on him, huh? Ugh, I can't clean any more tonight," Gerard yawns.

Joke's on us, she thinks. "Cleaning tomorrow. Sleep tonight," she says out loud.

"Watch me be really easy to convince," Gerard mumbles. "Feel like I hardly saw you all night, baby."

She wraps her arms around his waist and nuzzles the skin behind his ear. "That's parties, I guess. Glad it's just us now."

"Bed?" Gerard asks.

"Definitely bed," Frankie answers.

*

A few days before Frankie leaves for Toronto, she finishes up the party prints and calls Grant from her studio. "Hey. I have some pictures for you. Mind if I stop by and drop them off?"

"Of course not. Stop by around four, and we'll have tea," Grant offers.

"I'll be there," she says. The rest of her day is spent packing her equipment for the trip and trying desperately not to bring every single goddamn thing she owns. It's a far cry from her days of following a tour with a duffel bag. Frankie finally gets the last of the boxes packed about ten minutes before the courier shows up and makes a face at herself in her tiny bathroom mirror. She tugs a newsboy cap on over her disordered hair and shrugs on her jean jacket. She's going to be late unless traffic cooperates.

It's not as bad as she fears, but she's still a few minutes late. "Sorry," she says when Grant answers the door. "Traffic."

"Not a problem, love. I was sitting outside writing. Let me make a tea tray, and we can go back out."

"Sounds good," she replies and follows him to the kitchen. He makes short work of everything, and soon they're sitting on the deck sipping tea and eating cookies. "I'm too used to this weather now. Toronto is going to be like the ninth circle of hell."

He laughs. "Imagine what you'd think of Scotland."

"At least I'd be somewhere I'd never been. And you'd be there. I mean, presumably," she says. "Two things Toronto is lacking."

"New experiences and me. Well, we shall make it happen someday." He tops up her teacup and his own, then reaches for the envelope she'd laid on the tabletop. "May I?"

Frankie nods. She sits quietly and sips her tea as he flips through. She's printed more photos than just the ones he'd requested, all the way back to their first excursion to Griffith Observatory.

"Frankie," he breathes. "They're wonderful."

"I had good subjects," she says. He looks over at her. "Yeah, yeah, I shouldn't diminish my own talents. Doesn't stop you and Gee from being fun to take pictures of."

"There aren't very many of you," he says with a hint of reproach.

"Well, I'm usually the one with a camera in my hands," she replies.

"Remind me to steal it next time and get some shots of you," Grant says.

"If you must," she sighs but bites back a smile.

"I must," Grant insists. "My photo albums will be incomplete without you."

"You still keep photo albums?" she smiles.

"I like things I can hold in my hands," he says.

"Yeah, I get that. I have a bunch, too. They're all in a box in my mom's basement right now, though."

"I have frames for some of these." He fingers the edge of one of the photos of him and Gerard from the party. "One will just have to remain pictureless until I get an appropriate photo of you."

She changes the subject to ward off a stupid urge to blush. "Gee's going to be jealous I came over. He's stuck in meetings with the studio until late tonight," Frankie says.

"I'll call him," Grant replies. "But I will see you both for dinner on Thursday, yes?"

"Definitely," Frankie says. "I don't know what I'll do without the two of you for three weeks."

"I think you'll be too busy for the likes of me," Grant says.

"I'll be busy, but I'll wish I had time," Frankie says. "I may need to make time, so I don't go insane. I kind of hate fashion photography a lot, but it pays well. One on one isn't bad. The runways are...not my scene."

"Understandable. They're not particularly my scene, either."

"Well, unfortunately shooting hardcore bands every day won't pay for the van to move me into Gerard's place," Frankie says. He laughs.

"Would that it could. When is the big move happening?"

"Not until he wraps the movie. I'm just...anticipating."

"Anticipation is good," Grant murmurs.

"Yeah. It'll be good. We spend six out of seven nights together anyway. It'll be great to have one address."

"For your friends as well," Grant says. "By which I mean me." He grins. "Gerard is quite close by, after all."

She laughs. "Yeah. And my current place is about as close to my studio, just in the opposite direction. He's much more centrally located. We'll practically be neighbors. Maybe I'll show up on your doorstep wanting to borrow a cup of sugar."

"Not a problem in the slightest, sugar," he grins.

They talk about the neighborhood for a little while longer until Frankie catches sight of her watch. "I should probably go," she says reluctantly. "I need to do a marathon of photo editing before Gerard gets home tonight."

"Plans?" he asks.

"Same as always," she shrugs. "I make him eat something with vegetables in it, we watch bad reality tv, I pretend he doesn't wake me up at two am with typing."

"He called me once or twice very late. I was hoping that was a mostly isolated incident," Grant says.

"Not so much, no." Grant sighs. Frankie nods. "Yeah. At least half the time. There's really nothing I can do about it, I don't think."

"Just encourage him to take care of himself, I suppose," Grant says.

"Yeah. And exhaust him, I guess," she says ruefully. He gives her a look, and she widens her eyes, then covers her face with her hands. "I didn't mean - well, yes, but -"

Grant laughs and squeezes her forearm. "Well, any method that works." Frankie turns her arm, so she can grab his hand, then tugs. He stands and tugs her to her feet in turn. She lets Grant lead her to the door, then gets up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

He wraps an arm around her shoulders and squeezes. "See you Thursday, love," Grant says. "Thank you for the prints."

"You're welcome. See you Thursday," she replies and goes home. She forces herself to think about her photo editing and not the look on Grant's face when he looked at the pictures of him and Gerard.

*

Thursday night, they have dinner with Grant. They stay until it's almost time for the restaurant to close, lingering over coffee and dessert. Grant says a warm goodnight and goodbye to Frankie and leaves first. Frankie watches him go until he's out of sight behind a big potted plant.

"I'm glad he'll be here while you're gone. It's going to suck enough without you," Gerard says.

Frankie shrugs expressively, trying to make a joke out of it. "I know I'm the life of the party. But I guarantee you won't miss me too much. You'll probably be making out with Grant by Thursday."

"That'd be hot, but I wouldn't do it without you," Gerard jokes back. He's smiling, but there's something serious about him, too. His eyes are clear and steady on her face. She wiggles her eyebrows at him and leans in.

"Kinky," she says in his ear and nips the lobe. He grabs her wrist and puts the other hand to her cheek. He kisses her and her bottom lip catches between his teeth.

"Just a little bit," he whispers against her lips.

"Tell me more," she drawls, nuzzling up under his ear.

"In the restaurant?" Gerard teases.

"In the car. Up the stairs. In the bedroom," she replies. Gerard is standing before she's done talking. He pulls out her chair like a real fucking gentleman and leads her outside. Frankie slides into the driver's seat. Gerard buckles himself in but sits sideways in the passenger seat. He puts his hand on her upper thigh as she reverses and pulls out of the parking lot. She shivers.

"You're ready for me already, aren't you?"

Frankie laughs. "Haven't you figured out that answer yet? It's always the same one."

"What if I like hearing the answer?" he asks.

"I've been wet for you since you kissed me," Frankie murmurs.

"I've been hard since you bit my ear," Gerard says back, fingers creeping up to tuck in the crease of her thigh. She rolls her hips, and his fingers brush over her clit.

"Fuck," she whispers.

"I could get you off just like this, couldn't I?" Gerard asks. "I could just rub you off through your jeans."

"I'd recommend not doing it while I'm driving," she says.

He laughs. "I'd rather do it at home anyway. Wanna touch you for real."

She takes a deep breath and turns into her parking lot. When she parks the car, Gerard unbuckles her seatbelt himself and tugs her over into his lap.

"This feels familiar," he murmurs. Frankie knows he is thinking of their first real dinner at Grant's and the detour after. She rubs herself down against him. He wasn't lying about being hard. She wants so much tonight, like maybe if they exhaust themselves tonight she won't miss him or want him quite so much while she's away. It won't work, she knows, but she's determined to try.

"Let's go inside now," she suggests. "So many plans for you."

"I have plans, too," Gerard says. "Let's see if we can get through all of them." She kisses him and pulls the door handle and hops out.

Gerard is close behind her and stops her on the stairs up to her apartment, presses her against the wall, and leans down to whisper in her ear, "Do you know how crazy you drive me every time you wear that top? Makes me want to fuck your tits every time."

She smirks and pulls away to unlock her door. "Maybe I'll let you if you can catch me." She slips into her apartment and lets him follow her.

*

Her flights to Toronto are uneventful. Customs is a pain, but customs is always a pain. She feels Gerard with every move she makes. In the bruises he left on her hips, the hickeys on her breasts and neck, in her ass. And she knows he's feeling her, too. She calls him as late as she can force herself to stay up in hopes of catching him after filming. He doesn't answer, so she leaves a message and putters around her hotel room getting things ready to go for tomorrow. He calls back fifteen minutes later just as she's crawling into bed. She can't hold back the sigh of relief at hearing his voice.

"Hey, babe," she says. "My day was boring and exhausting. How was yours?"

"Long. We started location prep today. Grant took pity on me and brought me pizza."

"LA pizza sucks," Frankie mumbles. "Good work though, it's not even Thursday yet."

"Ha ha," Gerard says. "Also, there is a point that all you need in life is cheese and bread and sauce, and it doesn't matter if it's sub-par."

"Truth. I wonder if Toronto has any decent pizza. But anyway. How's Grant?"

"You wanna talk to him? He's right here."

"Sure," Frankie yawns. "Oh, sorry, Grant. Hi."

"Hello, love," Grant says. "Awfully late for you."

"Yeah. Forgot it's three hours later here when I booked my flights, so I got here late. I suppose it's a good thing I didn't get much sleep last night. Otherwise I'd be wide awake right now," she explains, snuggling down under the covers.

Grant chuckles. "I suspect you got precisely the same amount of not much sleep that Gerard got."

"You might be right," Frankie laughs. "Is he complaining?"

"Not at all. He seems quite pleased with himself, to be honest," Grant replies with a laugh.

"Well, he should be," Frankie's tired mouth says before she can stop herself.

"I find myself unsurprised," Grant replies. She wishes she could see his face right now.

She hears Gerard say something in the background, and Grant says, "She says your smugness is deserved."

"That's my girl," she hears Gerard say - smugly, of course - closer to the speaker, and then he's back on the phone. "What are you doing, baby?" he murmurs.

"Huddling under the covers because I'm fucking freezing and wishing you were here to warm me up," she replies.

"Now I'm imagining warming you up," he says.

"You're pretty damn good at it," she tells him. "In all possible ways you could warm me up."

"I wish I could, baby," he says quietly. "You should go to bed, though. I'll call again tomorrow." Frankie murmurs agreement.

"Say goodnight to Grant," he adds.

"Goodnight, Frankie love," Grant tells her warmly.

"G'night, Grant," she says. "I'm glad I got to talk to you. I miss you."

"Call me anytime the urge takes you," he says. She hears the sound of the phone being passed back.

"Love you," Gerard says. "Sleep well. Goodnight."

"Love you, too," she murmurs.

The next thing she knows, her phone is playing the Souls at her, and it's time to get going. She manages to talk to Gerard almost every night. Half the time he's with Grant, so she talks to him, too. Often they'll pass the phone back and forth for a half hour or more. It's confusing until she gets the bright idea to have them use the speakerphone. She often catches them as they're deciding on food, and they bicker over what to order or where to go, and she just settles into whatever chair she's sitting in or the bed and just listens to them happily. It's almost like she's there.

Sometimes it's Mikey and Ray instead, and it's pretty similar. But it's just different with Grant, and it makes Frankie tired to think about why. All she knows is that she misses them a lot.

She's going through her photos from a long day of shooting several different runways, most of which were men's fashion. The suits are all kind of amazing, and she picks up her phone and dials Grant without thinking much about it.

"Hello, love," Grant answers. "I don't have your young man this evening, I'm afraid." This is often why she calls if she can't get ahold of Gerard.

"No, I called for you," she corrects with a smile, letting herself collapse back into the pillows with a quiet sigh.

"I am delighted to hear it," Grant says. She can hear the smile in his voice. "Anything in particular you want to chat about?"

"Not really. I mean, I shot the Donna Karan menswear runway today. It just made me think of you," she replies.

"Oh, how interesting," Grant says with enthusiasm.

"I know I don't know shit about clothes, but I wanted to scoop up everything there and make you try it on. Wait until you see the shots," she tells him.

"I'll look forward to it," Grant says.

"Seriously, I was mentally putting you in every single suit. Kept the entire thing way more fun."

"It's a long time since I've been asked to play dress-up," Grant replies.

Frankie takes an unsteady breath without thinking. "It'd be pretty fun to dress you up," she murmurs. "You look good in fucking everything."

"Flattery will get you everywhere." Grant drawls; he delivers the old Mae West quote with panache. Frankie giggles; she's sure she was meant to. It means she can change the subject without feeling awkward about it. This is something that Grant often does. She had never really considered before that it was on purpose.

She almost doesn't want to change the subject, but she does anyway. She asks him how his screenplay is going. He sighs. "As well as can be expected, I've spent what feels like half the week on the phone with Scotland."

"Ugh," she says. "Being stuck on the phone when you just fucking want to be working is the worst... wait, Scotland?"

"My sister," he answers quietly. "My mother's doctor. Mum."

"Oh," she says. "Oh, Grant. I'm so sorry. Tell me? I mean, if you don't want to, I can probably talk your ear off about this band I saw the other night. But. If you need to..."

"There's not much to tell, really," Grant replies. "My mother is stubborn and doesn't want to go into a care home or have a nurse come into the house to assist her or even Leigh. My sister is worried sick. I am, too, truth be told."

"And what does the doctor have to say?" she asks.

"He's confident mum can stay home for a while longer," Grant says. "I think for the peace of mind of all of us, we want to have a nurse come check on her daily."

"Makes sense," she murmurs. "You're letting Gerard spoil you, right?"

"I, ah, hadn't told him," Grant admits.

"Grant," she scolds gently. "We can't be here for you if you're keeping things from us."

"I know. There just never seemed to be a good time," Grant murmurs.

"Make time," Frankie says. "You never ask us for anything."

"You are extremely good to me, Frankie Iero. Both of you," Grant says.

"That's what friends are for," she replies. "Let Gee take you out and buy you dinner and drinks, okay? And when he hugs you, half of it will be from me."

"Which half?" Grant asks. Frankie laughs, and Grant changes the subject to his latest meeting with Barry Sonnenfeld. Which is fine, but Frankie finds herself oddly preoccupied with him even after they say good night. She's worried about him, and she hopes he tells Gerard soon, so Gerard can give him hugs. And god, she misses him. Much more than she expected to. Frankie makes friends easily. People like her. And she is fiercely protective. But there are some people who she'd do absolutely anything for. Grant has become one of those. She just wishes he were easier to read.

*

One day - maybe two days before she's due to return - Gerard calls her, and he sounds subdued.

"Babe?" she asks. "What's wrong?"

"I... Mikey said something to me that... Frankie, I don't know what we should do."

"Start from the beginning, Gee."

"He, um, was hanging out with me and Grant last night because Alicia's in Hawaii? And I don't know what we were talking about really, you maybe, I don't even remember, but after Grant left Mikey basically said that the two of us need to fuck him or stop bothering him," Gerard says in a rush.

"Um." That's all Frankie can get out.

"Frankie. I love you, and you love me. And. Do we...? He's..." Gerard trails off. This is maybe the first time Frankie has ever heard Gerard at a loss for words.

"I don't think we're bothering him," Frankie says quietly, "but. Maybe it's not. Gee," she whispers.

"I wasn't fucking thinking about it until Mikey said something, but - I feel like there could be something there," Gerard finally says. "With all three of us."

"...yeah, Gee, I mean...fuck." Frankie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Baby, I really fucking love you," Gerard breathes. "And god, I don't even know what to say about Grant."

"I just really like it when both of you are touching me," Frankie whispers. "I like him. A lot. I've been thinking about him a lot, and remember what we talked about at your party? Mikey could tell what we both were thinking, I'm sure of it. I just didn't know for sure about you, Gerard. I could never tell."

"Frankie." Gerard sounds choked up. "I want that, I want -"

"I'll be home soon," she says. "Just a few more days. We'll... talk to Grant. He..." she stops. "What if he doesn't want us?" She feels dumb just saying it. She's pretty sure she knows the answer to that one.

"Frankie, I won't lie. I’ve been thinking about it, too, and I think he'd be…." Gerard trails off.

"I wasn't sure if you were paying attention. Fuck," Frankie says, and then in a smaller voice, "Why am I not there?"

"Because, as you have told me before, you aren't Annie Leibovitz, and until you are, you have to take every assignment you're offered, so you can afford to live and eat and do fun things and get a good reputation, so you can be Annie Leibovitz," Gerard intones. "I wish you were, though. We could. I don't know. At least I could touch you."

"Shit, I...I gotta go," she says. "I wish... Gee, I really sort of love you a lot."

"I love you sort of a lot, too," Gerard replies. "We can make it another day and a half."

*

The next couple of days are almost torture. She ends up finishing her last shoot early and just packs up and checks out of the hotel. She can't stay here any longer, and hopefully she can get an earlier flight. Frankie waits until she's about to board to call, "Getting on a plane now."

"Fuck, really? I thought you weren't leaving for three hours." Gerard sounds ridiculously excited.

"Yeah, I got done and came to the airport early. Got an earlier flight."

"Fuck yeah. Okay, tell me when you'll get here, and I'll see you soon." She can hear the grin.

"Should be about five. Sorry about the rush hour," she says apologetically.

"If it means I get to see you sooner, I don't care about rush hour," Gerard replies.

Frankie twitches all through her flight. She feels bad for her seat mate. Gerard is waiting when she walks into baggage claim, and she jumps on him. He catches her around the waist and holds her tight.

"Fuck, I missed you so fucking much," he murmurs into her ear. She kisses his cheeks and chin, working her way back to his mouth.

"I'm so glad to be back. Are you parked in the garage or -" she stops, remembering how he'd come with Grant the last time.

"In the garage," he says. "I. Um. I haven't talked to Grant in a couple of days."

"Gee," she says.

"I didn't want to without you," he says with a frown.

"He's going to wonder what's wrong," she says.

"Nothing is wrong," Gerard insists. "He knows that."

"You think he knows that. Gee, if he feels like we hope he does, he's going to wonder," she says.

Gerard frowns deeply. "I... but how do we feel, exactly? This is why. I wanted to make sure we were completely on the same page here."

They reach Gerard's car, and Frankie takes the extra few minutes of loading her bags and exiting the garage to think of what she wants to say. "I think...what Mikey meant, I think - we've basically been dating him for months. All through the holidays, anyway, without really realizing that's what was going on."

"Yeah," Gerard says. "We really kind of have, huh?"

"I missed him almost as much as I did you," she murmurs. "I wanted him to be here to pick me up, too. I've never... I don't know what we do to make this ..."

"I'm okay with flying blind as long as we all talk about it. Maybe we should just call, ask him to dinner?"

She calls his phone, biting her lip as it rings and rings. But Grant picks up and sounds pleased as ever to hear from her, and her stomach twists a little.

"Hey," she says, smiling.

"How was the trip?" he asks. She curls up against the car door, the phone pressed tight against her ear.

"Good. It was good. Photoshop is gonna be my best friend for the next few days, but I got some great shots, I think."

"I'd love to see them," he says. "When you're ready to share."

"You know I love your critiques," she laughs. "You compare everything to comic book panels. Look, I called because I'm craving the good Thai. Will you meet us for dinner tomorrow?"

"There's very little in the world that I would like better," Grant replies.

"Good," she says. "That's - really good. Seven?"

"Seven would be perfect," Grant says, adding, "I've missed you, Frankie."

"Yeah," she says. "Yeah, me, too." Fuck, she thinks. Oh, fuck.

"See you tomorrow night," he tells her. "Give Gerard my greetings, would you?"

She laughs and says, "Tell him yourself. He's really sorry he's been dodging your calls, please talk to him."

It sounds a tiny bit strained, but Grant chuckles. "Welcome home, Frankie love. Pass Gerard the phone."

"Hey, Grant," Gerard says. "No, we're sitting in traffic. I can - I'm sorry," he murmurs. "Frankie said you'd worry. I was just." He pauses, and Frankie gently smacks his arm when he starts chewing on his cuticle.

"Mikey said something to me the other day, and I couldn't... But Frankie and I talked, and like... we've been dating you, haven't we?" Gerard says. He pauses to listen, and Frankie picks at the torn knee of her jeans.

"No!" Gerard blurts quickly. "I - Grant, it wasn't intentional, but...if we'd had any clue what we were doing, and that it wasn't totally out of line..."

Frankie swallows. She can't quite look at Gerard, can't bring herself to see his face.

"I wish I had, too. Frankie was disappointed I didn't bring you. We can... tomorrow? We can go out to dinner and talk. All three of us."

Gerard says goodbye, and as soon as he hands the phone back, she blurts, "What did he say?"

"That he was wondering if we'd ever realize," Gerard says ruefully.

She returns his rueful look. "So he sounded... positive?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he did." A wide smile spreads across Gerard's face.

She beams back. "Good. Good. And... we want this to be the whole deal, right?"

"Yeah. It already is, really. We spend almost as much of our time with him as we do with just each other," Gerard replies.

"Anything he wants," Frankie says firmly.

They drop the subject until they get back to Frankie's apartment, but after they've piled her bags in the corner of the living room, and she toes off her boots and collapses on the couch, she continues, "Why didn't he ever say anything?"

Gerard hums thoughtfully, "I think he was just waiting for us to realize. He didn't want to freak us out."

"We kind of deserved it," Frankie points out.

"It's not important now. Tomorrow is important now."

"I still feel like shit," Frankie says. "I mean, I sort of had a crush after I first met him. And then it was just...so exciting when he wanted to spend time with us, and we'd just started dating, and it all blended together, I guess. After a while I knew how he felt, and I didn't fucking know what to do about it. About you. I mean, fuck, you were wearing that expression for him the first time I met you."

Gerard laughs. There's a touch of nervousness to it. "We were kind of distracted by each other."

Frankie hums, "It's true. You're very distracting. Come here." They can talk more about this later. She's been lonely for three weeks.

He rounds the couch, and she uncurls, grabbing him by his belt loops and pulling him between her legs. He leans down, bracketing her head with his hands against the back of the couch. "I really fucking missed you."

"You made some big promises over the phone," she says, licking her lips.

"I did," Gerard answers leaning closer, whispering in her ear, "and I always keep my promises. Where should I start?" he asks her, stroking down her arms with his fingertips.

She sucks in a breath. "Fuck." She pulls at his shoulders, pulls him down on top of her and kisses him hard. "Want your mouth."

He sits on his knees and reaches for the waistband of her jeans. "Gonna put it everywhere you want it." She lets him pull her jeans off and her hips to the edge of the cushion, tucking his fingers under the elastic of her panties as he does.

Frankie reaches down and shoves at the waistband, trying to get them off, but he keeps a firm grip, and they don't go far. He reaches up and slides a finger down her clit over the cotton. "Gotta have some patience, Frankie."

"Fuck you," she pants, tipping her head back as he mouths at her knees. "It's been three weeks. I want orgasms, not patience."

Gerard laughs and bites at her thigh. "Your first one of the night has to be perfect," he says.

"If it's you and your mouth, there's no way it could be anything else," she replies, tugging on his hair. "Please, Gee."

He sucks gently at the skin of her inner thighs until she's squirming, twitching away from his mouth and pushing close again. Then he presses his tongue flat against the damp spot on her panties, and she gasps and jerks.

She tightens her fingers in his hair. "Gee, I swear to god." He nuzzles and mouths at her over her panties a little more before hooking his finger into them and pulling them to the side. He uses just the very tip of his tongue to lick lightly over her clit, slips it barely between her lips, before pulling back. "Oh, god, more, you fucking tease," Frankie moans, wriggling her hips to get her underwear off.

He smirks at her and kisses his way up her hip and sucking at her belly, sliding his hands up under her shirt and palming her breasts through her bra. They both clearly want his mouth there, too. He reaches for her bra hooks, helping her push the cups aside and leaning in to take her nipples into his mouth one at a time.

Frankie wraps her legs around Gerard and grinds up against him. There's going to be a wet spot on his shirt, and she doesn't give a fuck. "Fuck fuck fuck," she chants, fingers tightening in Gerard's hair and holding him on her tit when he tries to pull away.

Gerard squeezes a hand between them instead, thrusting a finger inside her and rubbing at her clit with his thumb. Now things are getting somewhere, she thinks, sticking a hand down the back of his shirt and scraping her nails along his spine.

He bites down on her nipple just hard enough to make her gasp and pulls until she lets him go, kissing down her torso and fucking into her with his fingers the whole time.

"Gee," she gasps. "Your mouth, you promised." He licks along the crease of her hip, then replaces his thumb with his mouth, sucking firmly on her clit until she bucks and cries out.

She puts her legs over his shoulders and crosses her ankles over his back. Gerard swirls his tongue around her clit, then moving down, fucking into her with his tongue. She squeezes her thighs and shudders.

"So good," she moans. "Fuck. Fuck."

"That's next," he says before teasing her with his tongue again.

He sucks and licks, and it's too much, and it's been too long since she's had his mouth, and soon she's holding hard to his hair and thrusting against his mouth and coming. "Gerard," she moans.

He moans, too, letting her pull him up from between her legs and lick the wetness from his cheeks and mouth.

"Fuckin' love you," she gasps, hips still twitching against him.

"Yeah," he whispers against her cheek, rolling his hips against her, his cock still hard in his pants.

"I think you promised me you'd fuck me, too," she murmurs.

"Here, babe?" he asks.

"Bedroom," she says after a moment. Staying where they are is tempting, but she wants the bed, wants Gerard to be able to get whatever leverage he needs to fuck her as hard as he wants.

"Yeah, okay," he pants, pulling her off the couch. She wobbles a bit when she stands, and Gerard steadies her. They hold on to each other and hurry down the hall together.

When they get in her bedroom, she pushes him against the wall next to the door and scrabbles at his jacket and shirt and then just gives up, tugging on his lapels and walking backwards until she sits on the edge and stares up at him. She licks her lips and cups her tits in her hands. "Undress already. Wanna see you."

He just watches her roll her nipples between her fingers and pants. "Gee," she whines.

"But I like watching you," Gerard says.

"You like fucking me more. Three weeks, motherfucker," she says. She moves up the bed and lays back against the pillows. Her hands find her tits again, and she spreads her legs. "C'mon."

Gerard smirks and tug his jacket off. It hits the floor with a thump. His boots and clothes follow. Finally he's naked. God, he looks good. He looks even better crawling up her mattress to her.

As soon as he's in reach, she grabs and pulls, tugging him until he's kneeling over her. She keeps her hand on his cock and directs him, and they both moan as he slides inside.

"Frankie," he breathes. He leans down to mouth at her tits again, thrusting hard and smooth as he can.

She wraps her legs around his waist and pulls his hips in as close as she can get. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good," she moans. He responds by sucking hard at the underside of her breast. "God, your mouth, too."

He feels huge and hot and perfect, hands biting into her sides where he's lifting her to get his mouth on her, lips drifting from breast to collarbone to neck, biting and sucking little marks into her skin. Frankie can feel the second orgasm building, urges him to hurry with legs and hands and gasps of his name, over and over.

He thrusts harder, and they're moving together, and it's so fucking great she can't even find any coherent words anymore. Then he braces himself over her with one hand, reaches down with the other, and starts rubbing her clit as he thrusts.

She's not sure what noise she makes; she just hopes the neighbors aren't home. A few strokes of his fingers, and she's coming so hard her vision blurs.

She grabs his hand and pulls it away from her clit. He lets himself settle fully on top of her and thrusts once, twice more before he's coming hard, moaning her name against her neck.

After they get cleaned up, they cuddle and talk a little more about Grant, but Gerard can't really help himself with his hands and mouth, so there are lots of pauses for kissing and touching, and things get hopelessly off track. Frankie comes again, eyes already drooping even as she moans in his ear. There's no more real conversation after that, just sleep.

*

They all arrive at the restaurant about the same time the next night.

Frankie gets a long hug and a kiss on the cheek from Grant. Gerard gets the same, just a slightly less lingering hug - because he wasn't gone for three weeks, Frankie supposes. A few bills change hands to get them a nice private table. They need it. The three of them are staring at one another like they'll disappear if they blink. At least, that's how Frankie feels, and she's pretty sure she's not alone.

They get settled in the booth, Frankie in the middle of the curving bench. She's not really a fan because it's hard to look at them both at the same time, but Grant wants a recap of her last few weeks anyway, so it's easy enough to let that distract her.

"We talked on the phone on a pretty regular basis," she points out.

"I want to hear it again. As a complete narrative," he says in a posh tone instead of his usual brogue which makes her laugh.

Gerard drapes an arm around her waist and listens, too. Frankie leans into him and smiles up at Grant and starts talking, nudging his calves with her toes when she's making certain points.

"I missed you," Grant says with a smile after she finishes. "Especially your way of telling stories."

"I am not the storyteller here," Frankie points out.

"But you're so delightfully expressive," he says, quieter but still smiling, capturing one of her gesturing hands.

Her stomach flutters, and she laces their fingers together. She's not entirely certain what to say. "I... Grant. I missed you, too. So much."

He tugs her hand until she sits up, and he pulls her around and holds her close. Gerard's hand is still on her waist, and she feels Grant cover it with his. She wants to look, to see Gerard's face, but she can't look away from Grant. "The two of us just don't work quite right without you," Grant tells her.

"I can't really be sad about that," she says, glancing back around at Gerard. "I like to think I'm one of a kind."

"Oh, you are. Both of you have surprised and enchanted me utterly," Grant says, fingers stroking distractingly up and down her side.

She feels Gerard lean in closer and ask, "So we definitely shouldn't leave you alone?"

"No," Grant tells him. "I was quite alright, you understand, but that was before I knew there might be another option."

"There is," Frankie tells him, cupping his cheek in her hand. “I… we talked about it. About how we've been so unfair to you, and we're sorry. That wasn't... We didn't intend that."

And he smiles and turns his head to kiss her palm softly. "I know you didn't. It's alright."

"No, it's not," she replies.

"But we'll make it up to you," Gerard jumps in and promises. Grant's fingers slip beneath her shirt and just rest there against her skin. Gerard fully drapes himself over her side, chin resting on her shoulder.

"Are we still hungry?" Frankie asks. She's teasing - mostly.

Gerard laughs in her ear. He's pretty breathless though. "You're the one who wanted Thai, babe."

She turns around to glare at him, and he laughs again and kisses her.

Grant pulls her back after a few moments and cups her cheek. "We should probably call the waiter. Because once I kiss you, either of you, I won't want to stop for quite a while."

"Well, then," she says, picking up her menu.

Grant laughs softly and pulls away, but not far. He lets his hand fall down to her waist and picks up his own menu with his other hand. Gerard trails his fingers up Grant's arm, kisses Frankie's cheek, and pulls back, reaching for his own menu.

As they eat, Frankie peppers Grant with questions about what he got up to while she was gone. He has a new project in the pipeline, and he is more than excited to tell them all about it, so they get sufficiently distracted and have a nice dinner, talking and laughing. As soon as everyone is nearly done eating, Frankie starts squirming - the anticipation is building again.

They pay the bill and walk outside to their cars. Grant makes the first move, catching Gerard by the hand and Frankie by the waist. "I would like nothing more than to accompany the two of you home. Or for you to come home with me."

"Frankie is closest," Gerard says.

"Then I will meet you there," Grant says. Frankie doesn't want him to let her go, but he does with a little squeeze. They all hurry to their cars, and Frankie is glad she drove Gerard over because otherwise she'd be way too twitchy. Gerard is twitchy enough for both of them anyway.

"Shit, Gee," she says when they're buckled in. She's pretty sure sex is the first thing on all their agendas when they get there, and just the thought of it is enough to throw her brain into overdrive.

"I can't decide what I want more," Gerard says. "To blow him or watch him fuck you." Clearly he's a step ahead of her.

"Fuck," Frankie moans. "You're lucky I wasn’t driving yet. I'd have driven off the fucking road."

Gerard squeezes her thigh. "I'm sorry. Not for saying it though."

She laughs and pulls out of the lot. "I have a few thoughts of my own, baby."

"Yeah? What are they?" Gerard asks. Frankie licks her lips and grips the steering wheel firmly, forcing her brain to stop spinning. It's really fucking easy to focus after all, she discovers.

"I wouldn't say no to watching him fuck you. I want... fuck, everything."

"You'll let him taste you like I did last night?" Gerard asks, hushed. "I've always wanted to watch your face."

"Oh, god," she whispers, knuckles going white on the wheel. "Yes. Can I... fuck, Gee."

"Can you what, babe?"

"Can I blow you while he fucks you?"

"Anything," Gerard tells her. "Anything. I don't think there is such a thing as enough or not allowed. Not of this, not of you."

"Yeah," she breathes, pulling into her complex's parking lot. There's some douche blocking her spot, and she does a lot of swearing and ends up honking her horn until the asshole moves. By the time they're out of their car, Grant is waiting, hands in pockets, on the sidewalk leading up to her building.

Gerard lets her go first, and she tucks her hand in Grant's elbow and tugs him to her door.

She fumbles with her keys, and Grant closes a steady hand around hers and helps her unlock the door. When they get inside, Grant backs her against the wall and growls, "I'm going to kiss you now, and I'm not stopping until I'm good and ready to."

"Yes," she breathes and then his mouth is on hers; his hands move under her shirt and hold her waist. He's got at least six inches on her, and the way he wraps around her makes her feel tiny. His mouth makes her feel like she's dizzy, drowning.

Then his hands move up her torso, and he's cupping her tits through her bra, and she gasps into his mouth. "Do you like my hands, Frankie?" Grant murmurs against her ear.

She likes his hands. And his mouth and the feel of his lean body. She likes it so much that she's wet just from a touch. That makes her think of what Gerard had said. "Like everything about you," she whispers. She's getting weak in the knees and really isn't certain how much longer she can stand.

Luckily, Gerard rescues her, "I think she likes you enough that we should go back to the bedroom."

Grant looks back over his shoulder. "Yes, I think that's an excellent idea. And don't think I've forgotten you, Gerard."

"I'm not worried," Gerard answers. It's his turn to lead the way, and he does.

Grant keeps his hands on Frankie as they go down the hall. When they get into the bedroom, Grant starts tugging at the buttons of her cardigan and sliding it down her shoulders. She shakes it off her wrists and pulls her t-shirt over her head, looking up at him.

Gerard clears his throat, and Grant tears his eyes away from Frankie's bra-covered chest and looks at him, amused.

"There needs to be more than one of me, I see," he laughs. He catches Gerard's wrist and pulls him close.

"Kiss me," Gerard demands.

"Happily," Grant says and bends his head.

Gerard immediately responds, wrapping around him and kissing him desperately. Frankie thinks they're gorgeous. Thinks she'd be pretty happy just watching them fuck and getting herself off sometime. Not tonight, though. She's pretty desperate for both of them tonight.

She turns her attention to Grant's belt, sliding her arms around his waist to undo the buckle.

He moves a little bit against her, a little acknowledgement of her presence, but stays focused on Gerard for a few more moments. When she gets the buckle undone, she tugs down on his pants and underwear and he toes off his shoes and steps out of the mess of cloth. Gerard pulls back then. Frankie can tell by the gasped curse, the way Grant chuckles. She palms his ass and runs her hands up his back under his shirt.

Grant tugs his shirt off, and she runs her hands over the expanse of skin. "I want the front view," she tells him.

He turns around, and Frankie understands Gerard's reaction. Her hand is moving before she even thinks about it, wrapping around his length. "Fuck, Grant."

"All for you," he says, groaning quietly as she gives him an absentminded stroke or two. "You and your boy."

"Ours," she says and lets go, stepping closer. His arms come up around her, and he pulls her flush against him, his cock pressing against her belly.

He bends down and whispers in her ear. "Undress Gerard for me."

She rubs herself against him and nods, leaning up for a kiss. He gives her what she's after, tongue teasing just the slightest bit before he pulls away again. She moves to stand in front of Gerard. His cheeks are pink, and he's fidgeting. She pushes his leather jacket off his shoulders and makes quick work of the tee he's got on beneath it. She laughs when she sees the nearly worn out belt he's told her is his "lucky" belt.

"Baby, you're gonna get so lucky," Frankie tells him. She gets his pants down around his knees and then steers him to the bed, so she can get at his boots.

She tugs at the laces and pulls them off, then pulls his pants and socks off. His cock is hard, and she's already there, already so close, she has to lean down and take the head in her mouth. "You're still not completely undressed, Frankie," Grant reminds her quietly, his hands brushing through her hair and over her shoulders.

"I think she's waiting for you," Gerard says, cupping her cheek. She pulls off and kisses his fingers, then stands straight and turns back to Grant.

Grant starts at her shoulders, traces his fingertips down the straps of her bra, across the edges of the cups and then around the band, finally undoing the hooks and pulling it off slowly. She doesn't realize she's holding her breath until Grant drops the bra and reaches up to cup her tits in his hands.

"So fucking beautiful," he says, tracing the edges of her chest piece with his fingertips before thumbing over her nipples. Frankie gasps. "Sensitive?" he asks.

"Yes," she answers emphatically, and he repeats the same action with his thumbs.

"Gerard, take her jeans off for me. I find I don't want to move my hands."

Now it's Gerard's turn to wrap his arms around her from behind, popping the button on her jeans and pushing them down. He kisses at the backs of her shoulders, then down to the swell of her ass, fingers feathering over her calves as she steps out of her jeans and shoes.

Grant keeps touching her tits at the same time, fingers exploring all over them, finding all her most sensitive spots. Then he leans down and takes one of her nipples in his mouth, and she moans loud, glad Gerard has stood back up, so she can lean against him. She can feel the tug of his mouth all the way down to her pussy, and she shifts restlessly. She's wet and feeling empty and crazy. "Someone needs to fuck me right the fuck now," she growls.

Grant laughs, the sound vibrating against her nipple. "I think we can arrange that. Who do you want?"

"Fuck," she says. "I don't... can't choose."

"Then we won't make you," Grant replies and pulls away, getting on the bed, his back against the headboard. "Come here."

Grant pulls her between his legs. She can feel him hard against her, but he doesn't seem impatient, just bending to mouth at her ear as his hands return to her breasts.

"I guess that's my cue," Gerard says, crawling on the bed from the foot. He pushes her knees up and apart and sinks into her with a moan. Grant rolls her nipples between his fingers at the same time.

"Oh, god," Frankie gasps.

Gerard's not fucking around tonight, and Grant breathes heavily against her ear as Gerard's thrusts press her up against his cock. Gerard has Grant's fingers in his mouth as much as Frankie's nipples, and her chest is slick with spit. Grant's fingers are too, when they steal down her stomach to rub against her clit.

She bucks against his hand, fucking onto Gerard's cock. Gerard moans against her chest and starts thrusting harder. "Fuck. God, I can't," Frankie says.

"Are we too much for you, Frankie?" Grant whispers in her ear.

"Hah," she says, but it comes out more breathless than she likes. Grant rubs harder, and she arches her back to reach his mouth, kissing him hard, moaning into his mouth as Gerard angles to find her G-spot and fuck her even harder.

She can only moan after that. She can't move except to thrust her hips against Grant's fingers, Gerard's cock. "So fucking beautiful," Grant murmurs in her ear, slowing his fingers and making lazy circles over her clit. "Come for us, Frankie."

Gerard sucks hard on her nipple and thrusts hard. Grant nips at her neck and twists the other nipple, and then she is coming, gasping and shaking and clenching around Gerard's cock.

"Frankie," Gerard moans against her nipple and then comes, teeth biting down. She arches up against him, grabbing onto the back of his neck and holding him there.

"Frankie," Grant repeats in a whisper, breath hot against her ear, fingers trailing over her folds where Gerard has her stretched wide. "I want - but - do you have condoms?"

"I'm on the pill," she tells him, "So as long as you're -"

He laughs softly. "Do you know how long it's been since I've even needed protection? I'm clean, love."

Something in his voice just makes heat curl through her gut all the time, and despite how good Gerard still feels inside her, she shifts and whines a bit. Gerard sucks in a breath, and she leans in and kisses him. "Go on," he whispers.

Grant reaches out and touches Gerard's cheek, then lifts her hips up and pulls her off Gerard. Frankie feels him position himself, and his fingers tighten, holding onto her as she slides down his cock, moaning. He's huge, and the slight stretch feels just right after coming so hard a minute ago.

Grant moans into Frankie's ear and pulls her flush against his body. "You feel so good," he tells her. "So good. So wet."

"I can't - fuck -" Frankie can't get words out. She could come again, already. Grant's hitting all the right spots. She just needs a little....

Gerard bends down and starts sucking on her clit. "Yes, fuck. Gee. Just a little more. Your tongue." Gerard flattens his tongue licks for a minute before sucking, and then she's coming again.

She keens, letting Grant run his hands all over her before pulling off his dick and fumbling for Gerard. He pushes up and kisses her, letting her lick her own taste from his lips, and she whispers, "Blow him real good now, Gee."

"Oh god, yes," Gerard replies breathlessly and leans down and licks up the underside of Grant's cock. Grant moans and slides a hand into Gerard's hair.

"How does she taste on my cock, Gerard?" Gerard just moans, and Grant's fingers tighten in his hair. "I think your mouth was made for this."

"Talent," Frankie agrees, adding her fingers to Grant's as she curls up against him.

Frankie lets her mouth wander over Grant's shoulder and down his chest, swirling her tongue around his nipple. "Frankie," Grant whispers into her hair. She lifts her head up and kisses him, hand coming up to rest on his neck.

"Let us take care of you now," she says.

"Yes," he gasps and then moans. Frankie looks down and watches as Gerard takes Grant further and further down his throat. It's so fucking hot she thinks she could almost get herself off again just squeezing her legs together and watching.

She shifts experimentally and nearly gasps. Yeah, she's primed. How is this actually happening? Grant laughs, and she looks over to see him watching her. Frankie leans in to kiss him again.

She kisses him and kisses him, feels one of his hands reach for her tit and gasps against his mouth when he rolls her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "You're supposed to be letting us take care of you," she scolds jokingly.

"Do you think me touching you could possibly do anything but make me feel even better?" Grant returns breathlessly. She squeezes her legs together and kisses him again.

She feels a hand close around her ankle - Gerard, pulling off to wrap one hand around Grant's shaft and his mouth around the head. Grant moans into Frankie's mouth, breaking the kiss to tip his head back and pant, his hips moving slightly, not quite fucking up into Gerard's mouth.

Frankie strokes Gerard's hair and kisses Grant's shoulder and keeps flexing her thigh muscles, putting almost enough pressure on her clit. She takes her hand out of Gerard's hair and slips it between her legs.

"Again?" Grant laughs with almost no breath behind it.

"This is - too much, I can't - do you know what you two look like?" Frankie asks, biting back a moan.

"I can imagine," Grant gasps. Frankie looks down at Gerard and meets his eyes. He reaches out and slides two fingers into her cunt. He doesn't move them, really, keeps focused on blowing Grant, but the feel is amazing. She rubs herself harder and leans up to kiss Grant again.

She's still kissing him when he stiffens and groans, coming into Gerard's mouth. She moves her mouth back to Grant's shoulder even as the combination of Gerard's fingers and her own drives her into her third orgasm - weaker, but still amazing. Grant reaches for her hand afterwards and sucks her fingers into his mouth. If she could come again right now, his tongue licking her fingers clean would do it.

Gerard moves up Grant's body and flops against his chest. Grant captures his hand and licks that clean, too. "Fuck," Frankie moans. "God, you both want to kill me."

"Maybe next time," Gerard says, yawning. He's always cuddly after sex.

"Next time, I'll have enough patience to get my tongue everywhere I want it," Grant says lazily.

She moans and buries her face in Grant's shoulder. "Yes. God, yes. You need to fuck Gee, too."

"I need to do everything we can think of. Repeatedly. It might take some time."

"Twist our arms," Gerard mumbles into the pillow on her other side.

*

Frankie wakes up the next morning to Grant tracing lightly over her chest piece and looking at her like he completely, utterly adores her.

"Perv," Frankie says because, well, she's an asshole.

"I wasn't even touching the naughty bits," Grant whispers unrepentantly. "Good morning, love."

"Good morning. I don't know why you weren't touching the naughty bits." She stretches her arms over her head and then wraps them around his neck.

"I enjoy it more when you're awake," he says and leans in to kiss her. She kind of ruins it by smiling too much, but she can't help it. Grant just chuckles against her cheek.

"Last night ended even better than I hoped or imagined," he says.

"Even better than you imagined? I thought you were a creative type," she teases.

"I am, and I imagined quite a few scenarios which were all very compelling indeed, so that should tell you how very good it was," Grant replies.

"What was your favorite thing to imagine?" she asks quietly and runs a hand up the back of his head.

"I can't pick a favorite. I know I want to eat you out. I know I want to fuck Gerard. I know I want to feel you come again and again."

She shivers. "Take your pick, I won't argue."

He smirks down at her. "Perhaps we should wake Gerard first?"

"If he's not already awake, he can wake up to us making all sorts of noise," she says.

"You're a noisy thing, are you, Frankie?"

"I'm surprised you don't already know that." Grant laughs and runs a hand down her chest and stomach, resting his hand just below her bellybutton.

"I admit, I had my suspicions," he says. "But was uncertain if I needed to blame the alcohol you had for that."

"Nope. That was all Gerard. And knowing you were right down the hall."

"I wanted him to hear," Gerard says croakily.

"That's sort of mean, Gerard," Frankie frowns.

"At the time, I didn't think about it really. I just knew I didn't care that we were noisy. It..." He pushes himself up on his elbow and looks contritely between them. "I'm sorry."

Grant reaches over and runs his fingers down Gerard's face. "You wanted me to come investigate, didn't you?"

"God, yes," Gerard says. "I... I had so many fantasies, but I just couldn't think about any of it beyond the fantasies."

"I wouldn't have come," Grant tells him. "Not like that. But I wished I could."

"We don't have to fantasize anymore," Frankie says and leans down to kiss Grant's shoulder. "When did you know? That you..."

"Had developed the ultimate inconvenient attraction? It was our trip to the Observatory when I knew I wanted both of you. The fact that I was in quite a lot more trouble than any mere attraction became clear later."

"You're still in trouble," Frankie says, hoisting herself up to lean against the pillows between them. "So much trouble."

"It's the welcome sort of trouble," Grant says and runs a hand down her side to her hip. He leans in to kiss her, and her hands go to his shoulders to pull him close. "Not so fast," he says against her lips, then kisses his way down her torso. He stops to lean over and kiss Gerard - and whisper in his ear - then keeps moving down.

She bites her lip and watches him kiss over the tattoos on her stomach, and then he shifts, nudging her knees apart and settling between her legs. He looks up at her, eyes intense. "Please, Grant," she begs. He leans in and kisses the skin of her thigh. Slowly. He's not really teasing, just...savoring.

Frankie whimpers. Gerard curls around her, running his fingers through her hair and watching, just like he said he would. She takes one of Gerard's hands in hers and rests the other on Grant's shoulder. He looks up and smiles at her then moves to her other thigh. His hands sweep over her hips and stomach, and then he spreads her open and leans in.

When Grant's tongue touches her - no more than touches her - she lets out a gasping breath. "Frankie," he whispers into her folds and flattens his tongue over her clit and licks slow, so slow. She clenches her fingers around Gerard's and on Grant's shoulder. She has to hold on because he's good - really fucking good with his mouth, alternating pressure and suction, slow and fast, hands cradling her hips. She's sure she'll come, just like this, when he backs off, kisses her thighs and stomach for a minute before pressing in with a finger.

"Oh fuck," she moans. He thrusts his finger in and out a few times. He strokes gently around her folds and then thrusts two fingers back inside. Gerard's hand finds her breast and cups it, thumb brushing lightly over her nipple.

"Look at him," Gerard murmurs into her ear as Grant lowers his mouth to her clit again. "He thinks you taste good, too. Just like I do. I know you like to taste yourself, Frankie. Come for him so you can."

"Fuck," she moans and stares down at Grant's mouth working her, his fingers digging into her thighs. He sucks on her clit, and she comes hard, bucking up against his mouth. Grant leaves his fingers inside her, gently working her until she whines and tugs at his shoulders, then he moves up her body and straddles her thighs. She wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls his mouth against hers.

He does taste like her, but he tastes like himself too, entirely different from Gerard, and she can't get enough of either of them. "Grant," she whispers against his lips and wraps herself around him tightly. He feels amazing in her arms. Bigger than Gerard, a little more muscular. He makes her feel completely enveloped. She sighs. "I can't believe you're here," she says, nibbling along his gorgeous jawline.

Grant squeezes her in his arms, and a hand sneaks into her hair. "I am extremely happy to be where I am at this moment." He shifts his hips against her; hard, but not insistent. Besides which, she had a piece of that last night, and it's definitely Gerard's turn. And she fucking wants to watch. She pulls back a bit, cups his cheek in her hand.

"You should take care of Gerard now," she whispers. "He's been really patient."

He smiles and kisses her again before turning to Gerard. "And what can I do for you?"

"Anything you damn well please," Gerard says. He's pink in the face already.

"That's an offer I could never refuse. I think it would please me to fuck you. How does that sound?" Grant slides his hand down Gerard's chest and pushes the sheets and blankets off his legs. He wraps a hand around Gerard's cock.

"Sounds like the beginning of a few of my best fantasies," Gerard answers. Grant leans in and kisses him. Frankie moves over, so Grant can settle between them and pull Gerard on top of him. She watches their tongues move together, watches Gerard's hips hitch against Grant's. She can't take her eyes off of them. Gerard still looks like he's dreaming, movements half tentative, half designed to savor.

Grant rolls them over then, Gerard's legs falling open to cradle his hips. Grant lifts up and looks down into his face. "Beautiful," he murmurs. "You've fascinated me for so long."

"Now I'm yours," Gerard says.

"And mine," Frankie adds. "And this is all very fascinating," she purrs. Grant grins at her.

"Ours," he says. "And I do hope we're very entertaining indeed for you, love."

"Get on with it," she orders. "He's not a speechless mess yet." She leans over to kiss Gerard to make up for the teasing.

"So very bossy," Grant says and kisses her cheek.

"She's pretty good at being bossed, too," Gerard adds with a smirk.

"Frankie?" Grant asks lightly. "Get him ready for me."

Frankie laughs. "I think I can handle that," she says and reaches for the lube. Grant rolls to the side to make room for her, and she leans down and mouths at Gerard's cock for a second to make him moan. And he does moan. "Fucking gorgeous," she says, fingers creeping between his legs. He sucks in a breath and pulls one of his knees up against his chest to give her better access. "God, I nearly forgot how much you fucking love this," she says as she slides one finger inside him.

"I haven't - forgotten how you look - in your harness -" he gasps. Grant makes a low noise. His hand jerks a little where they're stroking Gerard together.

"You wanna see me fuck him, Grant?" Frankie asks.

"Very much, yes," he replies breathlessly.

"You first," she says sweetly, pushing in with another finger. Thing is, Grant is hung, and this is going to take a while. Gerard is already squirming, and he's a step away from being demanding. Or begging. She gives him a third finger, and he tangles a hand in her hair.

"Frankie," he moans. She smiles and kisses the top of his thigh and up to his hip, sucking hard over his hip bone.

Grant shifts, moving closer to the pillows to kiss his way up Gerard's chest. Frankie watches Gerard's face. He's rapidly approaching completely blissed out, his head thrown back and his fingers flexing in Frankie's hair and on Grant's arm. Every tug of her hair makes Frankie squeeze her legs together trying to get some friction. Finally they're kissing again.

Frankie pushes in with three fingers and strokes gently at Gerard's cock, swirling the moisture from the head back down the shaft. "How soon, baby?" she murmurs.

"Close," he gasps. "I want... just a little more." Frankie nods and thrusts her fingers. She twists her fingers as she thrusts, strokes over Gerard's prostate and makes him moan into Grant's mouth. "Enough, Frankie," he gasps. "Grant -"

"How do you want me?" Grant murmurs.

"I... fuck," Gerard says and rolls over, pushing up on his knees. "Like this. Want to really fucking feel you."

"As you say," Grant replies, pushing himself back up and settling in behind Gerard, one hand steadying himself on Gerard's back. Frankie passes him the lube, but he wraps his hand around her wrist. "Come do it for me," he murmurs.

She sits up, gets more lube on her fingers, and wraps them around Grant's shaft, looks him in the eye and slowly strokes, getting him nice and slick for Gerard. Grant looks back at her and licks his lips. "You feel amazing," she tells him. "I want -"

"Whatever you want, you may have it, Frankie," he tells her roughly. "We have time." She nods and leans in to kiss him rough and fast before pulling back and helping him line up and push into Gerard. They both groan. It's fucking beautiful.

Frankie scrambles backward to where she can see both their faces. Gerard is panting, head hanging down. Frankie cups his cheek and tips his face up towards hers. "He feels incredible, doesn't he?" she asks him.

"Yes, fuck, yes," Gerard says, thrusting back against Grant, turning his head to catch at her fingers with his mouth. She moans, sneaks a hand between her legs, and rubs over her clit.

"Enjoying yourself, Frankie?" Grant asks breathlessly.

"No complaints," she murmurs. She runs her free hand over Gerard's head, combing his hair out of his face. She keeps her hand slow and steady on her clit. She's not feeling frantic, just good. Grant changes his angle, and Gerard practically keens, mouth going slack. Frankie looks up at Grant, and he's breathing hard, his hands gripping Gerard's hips tightly. He drapes himself over Gerard's back like holding himself up any longer is an impossible task.

Frankie reaches out to touch his face, and he groans and pushes into her hand, turning to kiss her fingers, then kissing Gerard's spine. "So good, so good, I can't -"

"Grant," Gerard whispers, and Grant's hips move faster. He fucks into Gerard hard, his lips never leaving the center of Gerard's back.

Gerard braces himself, curling his fingers into the sheets and around Frankie's wrist. Grant murmurs Gerard's name, presses his forehead against Gerard's back, and comes with a gasp and a shudder, bucking his hips into Gerard a few more times before freezing and panting into his skin.

Grant reaches around to take Gerard's cock in hand, but Gerard shakes his head. "Wanna make Frankie come again," he murmurs. Frankie bites her lip.

"An excellent idea," Grant says thickly and pulls out. Gerard gasps, and Grant rubs his back soothingly. Frankie's fingers are still on her clit, but she hasn't moved them in a while. She got caught up in watching.

"Hey," Gerard whispers to her, putting his hand on top of hers. He's flushed all the way down his chest, eyes glazed over but intent, looking her up and down. "Let me?" He doesn't wait for an answer, just takes hold of her knee and spreads her legs until he can line up and sink in.

"Oh, god," she moans and wraps herself around him. He wraps his arms around her back and pulls, moving them into a sitting position and driving him even deeper.

"Fuck, you're so wet, Frankie," Gerard breathes. Grant moves so he's kneeling next to them, reaches between their bodies, and slides his hand down Frankie's stomach to her clit.

Gerard slips a hand into her hair and pulls until he can kiss her, letting her ride him at her own speed. Which is fast, because Grant is driving her crazy with his fingers and with his mouth, which is creeping lightly along the curve of her shoulder. Gerard is making little noises now, coming out muffled between their mouths, and she rolls her hips hard, pushing down into his cock and Grant's fingers and coming with a sudden wash of sensation that leaves her gasping and tingling.

Gerard fucks up into her and comes moments later. The rush of heat, the way his hand clenches in her hair makes her moan again. Gerard kisses her all tongue and teeth and gasping for breath. Grant cups her cheek and turns her head, and his kiss is almost the exact opposite. He's slow and thorough, and it builds until she's panting into his mouth.

He eases her into his arms, lays her down against the pillows and keeps kissing her, long drugging kisses that let her catch her breath, but just that, before winding her up again. Frankie curls around him and just lets herself float. Gerard joins them after a moment, pushing Frankie's hair off her forehead and pressing messy little kisses there and against Grant's fingers when Grant reaches for Gerard, too. Frankie thinks she maybe falls back asleep for a while, tangled up in too many limbs, or maybe she just loses track of time. She's that content.

They get up eventually, the need for coffee and food and showers finally overpowering their desire to just stay in bed together. Frankie regrets that her shower really isn't big enough to handle all three of them together; it's barely big enough for two. She notices as they eat and go about their business that neither she nor Gerard can stop stealing kisses from Grant; they can't stop touching him in some way.

She notices he's slow to respond but passionate when he does. Grant sees her frown and clearly understands the reason for it because he tugs her down on his lap and says, "I spent so long refusing to let myself touch you in anything but the most innocent manner. It's a hard habit to break."

"We're yours for the taking now," she whispers and nuzzles the underside of his jaw.

"Perhaps that will eventually stop being astonishing to me," Grant murmurs back as he strokes her hair. "But right now I'm having a very difficult time believing my own senses."

"If you can believe in aliens and hypertime," Gerard puts in, leaning against the counter and sipping his coffee while he watches them, "You can believe in us."

Grant smiles over at Gerard. "Sometimes I find the insane things much easier to believe than the more mundane—but no less magical—things." Coming from anyone else, that would be such a line, but Frankie knows Grant means it completely.

"Well," Gerard says, setting down his coffee cup and stepping closer, twisting his fingers through Frankie's hair and leaning against Grant's shoulder, "then we'll just give you lots of practice."

"That's a brand of practice that will never grow tiresome," Grant says and rests a hand on Gerard's side then leans down to kiss Frankie again.

"Way to look at the big picture, boys," she says, grinning against his lips.