Frank's head was spinning when he woke up, and the fact that he woke up next to Gerard fucking Way didn't help things in the slightest.

Frank did fucking and well, everything but waking up next to people: it was so utterly, sickly domestic and he fucking hated it. 

However, hating Gerard himself seemed to present itself as an entirely different matter, and really, there wasn't quite anything as painfully confusing as that; the twenty four year old just wanted a fuck and someone to make squirm and scream out his name and not someone to wake up cuddled up next to.

Frank spent far too much time in other people's beds, but not a second of that time was spent sleeping.

It did however, take the twenty four year old just a few minutes of sanity crushing self-reflection to actually untangle himself from the arms of the sleeping artist - thankfully, Gerard didn't seem to stir at all, and that was probably just about the only thing that had gone right since he'd met the asshole.

And perhaps Frank would just be absolutely fine with a secret and some coffee or maybe even whatever ever pharmaceuticals Gerard had in his cupboards, or perhaps not, but he'd do whatever he could in aid of stopping the sinking feeling in his stomach as his eyes drew back to that stupid little smile on Gerard's face.

Frank just hated to think that Gerard was thinking about him: no one should think about him and smile like that - it just wasn't natural, and yet the only thing that felt right had Frank on the edge of some sort of mental breakdown in the apartment of the guy he'd fucked last night.

Perhaps it was just the matter of fucking people and not getting fucked himself: Frank was getting arrogant, and he was getting ideas about people falling in love with him when in reality, they felt nothing, and perhaps that was nothing more than something being choked and slammed against the bed by a rough pair of unfamiliar hands could fix.

He wondered if he could get fucked and get back before Gerard even woke up - sure, it was a long shot, but sure, Frank reckoned he could just about doing anything, and with a smirk upon his lips, the twenty four year old lit himself a cigarette, leaning against the kitchen wall and smoking with a certain air of pretentiousness that Gerard's apartment just seemed to radiate.

And with seconds, he was pulling out his cellphone and texting someone he knew all too well: someone who'd come whatever the circumstances, someone who would be here within minutes and someone who wouldn't care about keeping quite to unsure that the guy that he'd slept with last night didn't wake up.

For some godforsaken reason, Frank didn't want Gerard to know about this, and it wasn't as if Gerard had painted him as the fucking virgin Mary or something: he knew what he did for a living, and he knew that some casual, but not quite as casual as he'd wanted it to be, sex last night would never change that.

Gerard wasn't Frank's boyfriend - Frank didn't do boyfriends, and Frank didn't do waking up with someone's arm around him, and perhaps maybe it just made sense that he'd snap this situation in two with the guy on his way over to Frank's flat next door.

He felt guilty because Gerard cared and Gerard didn't do three different people a day and call it business. Gerard didn't deserve to get his head up caught up in this shit, and he most certainly didn't deserve to care about someone who was just going fuck him over completely.

The only positive that Frank could see in this situation at all was the fact that he was going to earn like thirty dollars in the next fifteen minutes and for something that was to entirely his own benefit: god, he fucking loved his 'job', and he'd never give it up, even if it destroyed him completely, and really, it most certainly looked like it was on the way to doing so.

He'd have to make it up to Gerard when he'd finished, because fuck, this guilt was destroying him, and really, he didn't even know why it was there in the first place: he didn't care about Gerard and he couldn't care about Gerard, it was just fucked up, and it was early and his head was spinning because Gerard's flat smelled too much like paint fumes and Gerard's bed smelled far too much like Frank right now.

And all it took for him to clear his head was the text received from the guy now outside his flat, as he pulled on a smile and put out his cigarette against Gerard's floor with his foot and closed the door behind him as quietly as possible.

Then, before, the twenty four year old knew anything, he was unlocking his flat door with a deep voice whispering into his ear, and money was placed on the table as he was slammed up against the wall without a moment's warning.

And from then on it was all hand-over-mouth hushed panting and moaning as eye contact became awkward and it began to hurt in such a poorly thought out position, but nonetheless, the guy was coming and Frank was coming as he thought of the guy in front of him and not the one in bed next door.

And as Frank continued to lie to himself, jeans were pulled up and shirts thrown back on as nods were exchanged with a gesture to the thirty dollars on the side and Frank found himself forcing a smile as the guy made his way out and far away from here, but within seconds, he was falling back against his apartment wall as he tried not to think about how this whole escapade had done nothing but fucked him up further.

And for the first time ever, thirty dollars meant nothing, and the guy next door meant everything.

-

Surprise was really the only emotion that Gerard Way could muster as when he woke in the morning, he saw that Frank was, in fact, still here, and had made his way into the kitchen, and even appeared to actually be cooking, like fuck, Gerard reckoned he hadn't actually had a cooked meal, even if it was just breakfast, in a good few years now.

"You're still here, and you're cooking, what the hell, Iero?" Gerard groaned, pushing his hair back behind his ears as he walked out into the main area of the apartment with only a pair of sweatpants on that he'd found somewhere on the floor.

"And I see that your 'thank you' isn't verbal, but in the fact that you've neglected to put a shirt on, huh?" Frank smirked, looking up and leaving Gerard to see that he'd made pancakes and in their dozens, Jesus fucking Christ.

"It's my house - I can walk around naked if I want to." Gerard shrugged Frank's flirting off, because it was really too fucking early to fuck himself over with Frank's fucking 'games': he needed a coffee and a cigarette first, and even then at the very least.

"Oh, yeah, I know - I've seen." Frank chuckled, remembering the very first instance in which he'd met he artist, and just luckily, it was deemed far too early for Gerard's brain to even consider the process of blushing. "Do you want me to make you some coffee?"

"Fuck yeah." Gerard exclaimed, eyes widening at the thought of coffee, and right then, he'd even be prepared to suck Frank Iero's dick just for his daily dose of caffeine, and it really was for the greater good that Gerard hadn't quite been naive enough to voice such an exclamation, otherwise, there wouldn't have been a doubt about Frank forcing him into such an offer.

"Mmm... alright then, go sit down and don't you dare put a shirt on, yeah, sugar?" Frank grinned to himself as he turned back to the kettle and really Gerard couldn't quite think for the life of him as to why Frank Iero could possibly just be this nice to him, or to anyone really, and especially with the lack of any foreseeable motive, but it was really just far too early to question something like that and Gerard resorted to just doing as he was told and settling all worries with lighting a cigarette as he lay sprawled out across his sofa.

"You know I saw that you finished that piece of me." Frank broke the silence as Gerard began to smoke, and as he did so, the artist almost found himself choking on his cigarette smoke. "It's so fucking good, you know. Please don't sell it - I want to look at how fucking hot you made me, because fucking god, Gerard, you made me look hotter than I am in real life, and I quite honestly did not think that such a thing was possible."

"I didn't draw you any 'hotter', Frank, that's just how you sure." And really, that was probably just about the most pretentious manner in which to flirt known to mankind.

"If you say so, asshole." Frank shrugged, pouring the hot water into two mugs of coffee and taking them over to the table by the sofa in the corner of the room where Gerard lay. "I wish I could show you just how fucking hot you are." He muttered, his eyes fixated upon the artist, and he didn't entirely intend Gerard to hear that remark, but of course, as God would have it, Gerard heard every single word.

"You make me feel hot, you know, Frank, god you make me feel so good..." Gerard moaned out, sitting up and holding his cigarette loosely in his left hand and pulling the cup of coffee to his lips with the other. "You also make fucking good coffee."

"You're welcome." Frank grinned, turning around to get the pancakes from the kitchen and definitely not to just ensure that Gerard didn't see him blush, because if he even just once let this asshole facade down around Gerard, he was just absolutely fucked.

"So, have you got any work today?" Gerard asked, the vague manner in which he approached the subject making it almost seem like he was just talking about normal business like Frank was a fucking plumber or something and not a prostitute and then for a few seconds even Frank could believe that everything was just normal and that he didn't have to pretend that he cared more than he was 'supposed' to about Gerard Way.

As Frank sat down beside Gerard, placing the fucking stack of pancakes on the table before them, he shrugged in response, bringing his own coffee cup to his lips and drowning every stupid fucking thought away in the bitter taste.

"Because if you're free today, then maybe I'd actually like to spend some time with you - other than just sex, I mean, well, we could have sex, I just... I just had other ideas..." Gerard sighed out, blushing and eating his first pancake. "Fuck, these are good pancakes."

"Tell me what you want to do then, come on, and maybe I'll consider it." Gerard blushed a little at that, and it really did not help as Frank decided to practically lean all over Gerard, lighting himself a cigarette as he did so. "Because, the thing is, you're not paying me to waste my time with you, so it really better be worth my while for me to even consider it, you know that, right? You know that I'm not your fucking boyfriend, don't you? We just fucked and it was good, and that's that."

"You care about me way much more than you let on." Gerard spoke with entirely too much confidence, but the thing was, he most certainly wasn't wrong. "You wouldn't just fuck anyone, you're Frank fucking Iero, well at least, not without some sort of money involved at the very least."

"You know what, Gerard?" Frank sighed out, changing the subject in the worst way known to man, but really, at this point he was nothing other than fucked, as lying to people he cared about was perhaps his one difficulty. "I'll let you keep that vibrator as long as you fucking film yourself using it and you send me the video. Because, god, there's nothing hotter than the thought of you fucking yourself, you know that, don't you?"

"Frank, we're fucking eating-" Gerard protested, albeit a little taken a back, because there was absolutely nothing that would ever get him used to Frank's spontaneous outbursts relating to his cock, and sometimes just his ass.

"Oh, don't worry, honey, I practically spend my life talking with my mouth full." Frank smirked, letting his head fall back into Gerard's lap, and really, the twenty eight year old was long past the point of protesting here and simply resorted to playing with Frank's hair just enough to irritate him.

"My brother wants me to meet his girlfriend." Gerard didn't quite know where such a personal insight into his life had come from, but Frank did seem to mind, and just like that, the twenty eight year old found himself pouring his problems onto the asshole who'd placed his head far too close to his crotch indeed. "My brother's the fucking perfect child, like he's working in some shitty ass corporate big city office building and I bet his girlfriend’s the secretary or something, and I just... I'm some fucking faggot artist, we practically live worlds away, and after years apart, now he suddenly wants to be involved in my life again."

"So, do you want to see him or not?" Frank asked, looking up at the older man. "The answer here is really fucking straightforward, Gerard - you either want to see him or you don't."

"You don't have siblings, do you?" Gerard sighed out, already knowing the answer, because with brothers things were just fucked up and complicated, yet still just different and unconditional. "He's still my brother, I just..."

"What?" Frank asked as Gerard's words faded out into silence, his eyes settling off on a point in the distance.

"My family always gave me so much shit for my sexuality and even now I don't think that they ever really accepted who I am..." Gerard sighed out, finally pulling his gaze back to Frank and the silence such a serious topic had brought between them. "I met him at the park the other day and he asked me if I had a girlfriend. That fucking hurts, you know?"

Frank nodded, sighing aloud as he did so. "If my parents knew what I did for a living they'd disown me right on the spot, I mean like fuck, perhaps it wouldn't even be the prostitution that would be the main problem, but just the fact that I'm sleeping with guys... it's messed up, it really is."

"I can't just fucking go and see my brother if he still lives to live in this fucked up fantasy world where he thinks I'm just some normal straight guy with a normal nine to five job who doesn't really upon medication to get by and isn't some unrespectable fucking porn artist who likes to get fucked in the ass by the fucking whore next door who's just too fucking attractive for anyone's sanity, and he just doesn't make sense, because you know, one minute, I feel like I can trust him whole heartedly, and the next, he's just looking at me like I'm nothing more than a fucking thing to fuck."

"You're so much more than that." Frank finally broke the silence that Gerard’s words had created. "You're so much more than that - I promise you that, Gerard Way. You're fucking talented as well, you know that?" And it hurt Frank as to how much Gerard could never quite believe a single word.

"I'm not, I'm just a fuck fucking up and you just feel ridiculously sorry for me, and-" Frank did not let him finish that sentence, and resorted to sitting up and just kissing him.

Needless to say, Gerard had absolutely no objection when it came to Frank's decision here and soon found himself lost in the bitter coffee taste still on Frank's lips, and just the way that the worst fucking person in the world could make him feel.

"You taste like pancakes." Frank giggled as he pulled away, bowing his head in nothing other than a piss poor attempt to hide the blatantly obvious blush upon his cheeks. "It's nice."

"Well..." Gerard sighed out, wondering what this meant and where they'd go from here, and his head spinning like fuck in result of such a hurricane of destructive thoughts. "They were nice pancakes." He turned his head to take note of what was probably about seven pancakes that still remained untouched. "They still are nice pancakes." He corrected himself.

"If you want to, because you care about him, you should go and see your brother." Frank finally gave Gerard the answer he was looking for, and despite that, the twenty eight year old's response as remained as nothing but silence for far too long indeed. "You're not a fuck up, Gerard, you're really not."

"The fact that a prostitute is telling me that I'm not a fuck up is really quite amusing." Gerard smiled, just a little, and Frank really just couldn't help but roll his eyes as the twenty eight year old.

"Shut up, asshole."

"So, you think I should go?" He asked, almost out of just a need for reassurance, pulling his cellphone off the side table where it was charging. "Like, fuck, I'm nervous, Frank, I mean, I don't have high hopes for Mikey himself, let alone this 'girlfriend' of his." Gerard sighed out, shaking his head and definitely not burying it in Frank's side because they were absolutely nothing other than 'friends' who kind of fucked sometimes, definitely.

"Look, if it makes you feel better, I'll go with you- I mean, I mean you might not want me to, and that's fine as well, but I don't want you to feel like a fuck up and I will not let him make you feel like that, okay?" Frank really wasn't aiming for 'over-protective boyfriend', but it really did seem like God had other ideas, and ones that involved actual feelings for Gerard, and if Frank knew anything, it was that feelings were never a good idea at all.

-

Hey guys:) This chapter is kind of devoid of plot but whatever I tried look whatever pancakes:') Oh well, anyway, if you enjoyed it, then votes and comments are appreciated, and I love you all<3