Gerard hadn't been able to stop smiling the whole day. And at least fourteen times he'd been asked as to just what had him so happy, because seriously, he was a high school teacher - they weren't supposed to look like they were enjoying themselves - it was against the law, or something.

In response, each time, he'd only blushed a little and shrugged before saying that it might have something to do with a certain trip to France and being allowed to do it, to which people had either rolled their eyes and groaned, or smiled and told him how happy they were for him, and then continue to ask him about it, but he'd struggled to really listen to anything anyone had said to him, as he found himself focused upon Frank. Frank fucking Iero, and the simple fact that he'd done this for him.

Gerard couldn't imagine that getting Mr Urie to agree to such a thing had been the easiest thing in the world, and coupled with the fact that Frank wasn't getting anything out of this other than Gerard's everlasting admiration and gratitude, he really didn't know what to think anymore.

Because he was indeed, just... just a little in love with Frank.

And whether he could show that love romantically or simply through friendship, he was just happy to do so. He was honestly just happy to know Frank at all.

So unbelievably happy, in fact. He reckoned that this was easily the best day of all twenty nine years of his life so far, and perhaps that was sad, considering that all that had rendered it such was a school trip to France, but honestly Gerard couldn't care less as he stood leant against his car in the school car park, spotting Frank making his way over to him.

Because it was evident now that Frank Iero was the literal fucking sunshine of his life, and Gerard was in absolutely no place to argue with that, especially when Frank was smiling at him: wide, genuine, eyes lighting up, and fucking rolling his sleeves up, and dear god, Gerard was literally dying.

"Alright?" Frank asked as he reached Gerard's car.

"Yeah." Gerard nodded, still fucking grinning like an idiot, "seriously... fuck, thank you, thank you, thank you. I can't say it enough."

"Don't worry about it." Frank grinned, shrugging it off, because honestly he hadn't gone to extensive lengths to acquire this for Gerard, he'd just made the best out of a situation, with a slight bit of emotional manipulation, but considering what Brendon and Ryan had been doing, a little lying and manipulation never hurt anybody, and honestly, seeing Gerard look at him like that would justify murder to him.

"I'm not worrying, Frank, I'm fucking dying," Gerard exclaimed, giggling a little, as he opened his car and they got inside. "Honestly..." He let out a sigh of disbelief, still struggling to quite convince himself that this was all one hundred percent real, and that nothing would take it away from him, and there was no chance of him just waking up and this all disappearing around him.

"Honestly?" Frank asked, laughing as he raised his eyebrows, glancing at Gerard in the seat beside him, before lighting a cigarette - not even having to ask at this point.

"How?" Gerard asked, meeting Frank's gaze in disbelief, "how the ever-loving fuck, Iero? I'm being serious, tell me everything. Who the fuck did you kill to get this for me? I honestly don't care, tell me, involve me with this murder, I don't care, I honestly, just.... this means the whole world to me, you know?"

"Course I know." Frank nodded, his face breaking out into what Gerard would describe as an illegal grin.

"So how?" Gerard persisted, lighting himself a cigarette with Frank's lighter. "Come on, stop fucking looking at me like that and tell me."

"You're so happy." Frank exclaimed, leaning back in his seat, "it's wonderful. It's honestly fucking wonderful."

"I'm not going to be happy for much longer unless you tell me what's going on-" Gerard began to exclaim, only to find himself cut off as Frank just threw it straight at him.

"Well, I walked into a music room, and Brendon and Ryan were in there, and they were kissing."

Gerard's eyes widened to the point that Frank suspected they might pop out of his head or explode or something. "What? You're kidding me- they... that's- oh my god."

"Yeah." Frank nodded, biting his lip, "it's kinda... I don't know. It's not my business, is it? I mean it's illegal, but Ryan... Ryan was definitely chill about it, and he's eighteen in a few months isn't he?"

"Yeah," Gerard shrugged, "shit gets complicated. I think it's different between people."

"Yeah, so anyway, Brendon was basically freaking the absolute fuck out and he was begging me and basically offering to give me anything if I didn't tell anyone and basically forgot what I'd seen," Frank went on to explain, "and honestly I didn't know what the fuck I wanted from him, like I don't really want a promotion or more money or for Brendon to buy me a new car or throw me a party or some shit- so I just... I don't know, I was like what would you do, because you're stubborn and you know what to do in situations when I'm really out of my depth, and I mean, what you want is obvious, isn't it?"

"Oh my god..." Gerard trailed off, "that was your- that was your first call? That was what you wanted more than anything? For me to have what I wanted, to be happy- fuck, Frank, that's insane, you're the nicest fucking person in the whole world, I-"

"Don't flatter me or I'm going to get an ego bigger than yours." Frank laughed a little, completing ruining the mood, and causing Gerard to narrow his eyes and glare a little at him. "I don't know if that's even possible, though, honestly."

"Hey- you can shut the fuck up!" Gerard exclaimed in mock offense.

"Shush, come on, get driving, we've got an art trip to plan."

-

There was now way around the fact that Frank had indeed missed Gerard's house, and Gerard and spending time with him in general, because the truth indeed was that nothing else in the whole world could make him quite so happy, and perhaps this was him finally coming to terms with such a thing.

Gerard mattered, and he mattered a lot and as he sat at the dining table, grabbing his laptop, as Frank sat down in the seat adjacent, a little awkwardly, with a cup of coffee in his hand; Gerard had of course made them coffee before even taking his coat off, because Gerard was that kind of person, and as much as Frank thought it ridiculous - he knew he'd never have Gerard any other way.

Gerard had already drank a third of his coffee; cup set down in his place, still steaming, leaving Frank to wonder if he'd burnt out all the nerve endings in his mouth or something, because drinking coffee this hot with ease definitely qualified you as some form of magician.

"I still just can't believe this." Gerard let out a sigh, setting his laptop down and sitting down beside Frank, catching the younger man's smile as he did so. "God, stop smiling at me like that - I know you're a fucking angel, come on, don't flaunt it. You're an angel, but you're not Gabriel, okay?" Gerard leaned back in his chair, brushing his hair away from his face as he did so.

"And what the fuck does that mean?" Frank asked: his tone lighthearted, and a small smile upon his lips as he glanced between Gerard and his laptop: watching it start up, and then fixating upon Gerard and the odd sort of look behind his eyes.

"Angel Gabriel." Gerard told him, biting his lip a little, before grabbing his coat off the back of the chair and retrieving his cigarettes from the pocket. "You know, from the nativity story," he continued, placing a cigarette before Frank: knowing him well enough by now, before taking his own and lighting it between his lips.

"The one who's like hey Mary you're a virgin and pregnant with God's baby, even though that's not physically possible but we're gonna roll with it because I'm an angel." Frank asked: his tone somewhat condescending.

"Don't mock it." Gerard told him, watching as the younger man took his lighter and lit the cigarette. "Doesn't matter whether you believe in it or not. I still like the story. I like the idea of angels, really. I'm not Christian, but I do just like the idea of pure being watching over us, and only appearing before us when it's really necessary. I like to have faith in that. I don't believe in a God, per se, I just believe that there is a sense of good and righteousness watching over us, in whatever form it wishes to take."

"Oh." Frank nodded a little, "I don't. I think it's all bullshit."

Gerard shrugged a little, "opinions. Anyway, I'm saying, that you're like a human version of that: someone there looking out for me."

"Righteousness." Frank scoffed, narrowing his eyes, "that's hardly me."

"No, you're kindness and selflessness. That's clear. You have a warm heart and a beautiful personality. Not just a beautiful face." Gerard smiled, blushing a little as he came to realise just how gay that had gotten, "anyway..." He let out an awkward half cough half sigh, "so, this art thing."

"This art thing." Frank repeated, smiling, "I think the first question is when."

"I think the answer is as soon as humanely possible. Before I explode. Before Brendon gets smacked in that big ass forehead of his and changes his mind." Frank had to laugh at that, because there was simply no avoiding the fact that Mr Urie's forehead was indeed exceedingly disproportionate.

"He won't." Frank told him with confidence. "I think as long as Ryan doesn't assassinate me or something then we're good. And I doubt Ryan would do that, because Megan likes me, and if there's one person in this world that Ryan actually gives a shit about, it's Megan."

"But there's paperwork and shit to do, and people need to get parents to sign shit and give the school money and-"

"I say a little over a month." Frank told him, "people who really want to go can sort it in a month, and you don't want people there who don't really want to go and are only going to mess about and ruin it, do you?"

Gerard nodded, "but like, you're so gonna mess about, you have no head for art - you have no idea what's going on, but still, you're coming, of course, you're coming."

"You can totally give me a crash course in art, you know? You are a teacher, after all, and I mean, I actually want to learn, so-"

"You actually want to learn?" Gerard raised his eyebrows: utterly unconvinced.

"Yeah," Frank nodded, "I want this to be the best it can be for you. Also I'm pretty sure I could listen to you talk about anything, as long as you're excited about it."

"That's a lie." Gerard said with certainty.

It wasn't.

Frank shrugged it off, "you're an interesting person and a genuinely good teacher, come on." He continued to change the subject before Gerard could really look into what Frank was saying, and any form of homoerotic subtext it may or may not possess. "And who else do you want to come? Teachers wise."

"Lindsey." Gerard said instantly, "how many have we got to have, I mean, it depends on how many kids there are, doesn't it?"

Frank shrugged, "I guess, but I honest to god don't think Brendon cares all that much. Won't we need like a French teacher, seeing as we're in France and they're speaking French, though?"

Gerard laughed a little, "I can speak French, you know?"

"What? Like fluently?" Frank exclaimed, his eyes widening a little.

Gerard let out an awkward little cough, before responding in French, his voice taking on an accent beautifully, and Frank was wide eyed and insanely attracted to him in that moment, "je ne sais pas. Que pensez-vous?"

"I have no idea what that means." Frank responded: dumbfounded, and absolutely certain of the fact that he was staring like a fucking idiot.

"I said: I don't know. What do you think?" Gerard explained, smiling a little.

"I fucking think that's amazing, seriously." He leaned back in his chair: in Gerard's chair, Gerard's dining room, Gerard's house, Gerard's hand dangerously close to his on the table top.

"We could get Brian to come. I'm sure he'd want any excuse to get out of teaching for a week." Gerard suggested, "I mean, he knows more about French culture and shit than I do, so-"

"Oh shut the fuck up, I can fucking tell you so know like-"

"Only the art stuff." Gerard told him, blushing, "I just really like art, okay?"

"I can tell." Frank found himself grinning in response. "I really like you, so, this is amazing."

"Shut up." Gerard blushed, leaning back in his chair - they were clearly flirting by now. "Don't talk to me like that."

"Why not?" Frank asked: all too fucking casual about it. "I'm just telling the truth."

Gerard practically rolled his eyes back into his head. "Shut up..." He laughed a little, meeting Frank's gaze. "I'm gonna text Chantal and tell her. She's gonna be so happy."

"Oh yeah, that student you have the mobile number of totally casually." Frank leaned forward, watching Gerard retrieve his phone and send her a quick message.

"What?" Gerard rolled his eyes, "you know I'm gay. Everyone knows I'm gay, and it's not like she's twelve, she's eighteen. She's literally an adult. I just happen to teach her art."

"So have you never gotten off with a student?" Frank asked, "just wondering. I mean, you're hot, the students think you're hot, like-"

"Frank!" Gerard protested, his cheeks flushing bright red. "No. No. I haven't. Lots of teachers, though."

"I know." Frank rolled his eyes. "Don't go sucking Mr Molko's dick when we're in France, though, because I don't know if I'm gonna punch you, him, or his dick, if that happens."

"I'm not gonna do that. I'm just glad he's forgiven me after fucking up his marriage." Gerard let out a sigh. "A bad move on my part."

"Yeah," Frank nodded. "It was. Sorry for making you upset."

"It wasn't you." Gerard felt his cheeks burning up: knowing the connotations of it being Frank that had caused him to go and do such a thing.

"Oh come on, you don't have to lie to me to be nice." Frank rolled his eyes, telling him, "I know. Let's just not talk about it, okay?"

Talk about what, was of course the question on Gerard's mind, because Frank had hardly made a significant effort to specify just what 'it' was.

And Gerard could guess, and Gerard felt drawn to just what lay at the back of his mind. What couldn't possibly be true, but still, held so much meaning, and indeed rang true.

In other words, Megan Clifford was perhaps not so stupid as she sometimes, most of the time, came off. They weren't quite just friends - there was a hint of something else and they both felt it - especially that day, especially as Frank went out pf his way to make Gerard happy.

"Okay." Gerrard's response was delayed, but Frank hardly noticed - the both of them encased in thought.

"Y-yeah..." Frank trailed off: his face instantly erupting with a blush: confirmation that they both indeed had been thinking about the very same thing.

Despite Max. Despite everything. Despite every word they might say to one another. Despite every word they might say to the world.

For Frank, Gerard came first. And for Gerard, it was much the same.

Frank rolled his sleeves up awkwardly, having finished his cigarette and finding himself a little out of place in the silence and the atmosphere it seemed to dictate, based on its nature and what thoughts had caused it.

Gerard gaze instantly fixated upon Frank's tattoos. "Your ink is so..." He trailed off, eyes widening.

"Do you want to look at my chest piece?" Frank asked before he could really think that through. "You said you did, and I don't know if you ever got a good look."

Gerard was absolutely in no state of mind to tell Frank Iero not to take his shirt off, regards of circumstances and what might or might not have happened. "Please." He tried not to sound too pathetic, or too turned on, but he was pretty sure he failed spectacularly in both.

Frank, however, did seem to notice or mind, and simply resorted to unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off his shoulders, and sitting there: shirtless, before a gay man who he was exceedingly attracted to, but under no circumstances could have any form of more than platonic relationship with.

"God... fuck..." Gerard felt his mouth drying up as he fixated upon Frank before him: all collarbones, and ink, and broad shoulders, and oh god, he was staring at Frank Iero's nipples, and then his gaze was travelling down to an awkwardly blank piece of skin above his abdomen. "Why have you got nothing there?" He asked, intending to reach out and touch it, but stopping himself in that very quickly.

Frank shrugged, glancing down at his chest, "I don't know, haven't had ideas, honestly, I don't know what I want to get there. And then once I'd had an idea, I'd need someone to draw it for me and-"

"I could." Gerard piped up awkwardly, brushing his hair out of his face. "I could design you one, as like, like a thank you for all of this. And I'd totally pay for you to get it done and-"

"Gerard, you don't have to do that-"

"Frank," Gerard stressed, reaching out for his hand in order to shut him up, "I want to."

-

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