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Frank loves his life.
First of all, it’s his birthday. His birthday on Halloween. Secondly, his parents are going to be out of town until Monday, so he can throw a massive rager and not even have to worry about cleaning puke out of his mom’s potted plants while he’s miserably hungover the next morning. Third, he no doubt found the best pair of fake fangs available in Belleville, and his Dracula costume is fucking killer this year. And lastly, most importantly: Mikey Way, his best friend in the whole goddamn universe, is walking through the door right now.
“Mikey!” The house is already kind of packed — Frank is by no means in the popular cliques, but the promise of free beer can fill any room — but when the crowd hears Frank’s screech, they part like the Red Sea so he can run full speed ahead and launch himself at Mikey just as he’s closing the door behind himself.
It would have worked, too, if Mikey hadn’t known him since freshman year and is therefore able to predict his every move. Mikey steps cleanly to the side seconds before Frank is supposed to land in his arms, and it’s all Frank can do to pinwheel and slow down before he crashes against the door with enough force to lose teeth.
“Happy Birthday,” Mikey says with a shit-eating grin.
“Fuck you,” Frank growls, but it’s more bark than bite. He wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. His face hurts a little bit where he’d made impact, mostly just his forehead, but it’s nothing that another beer won’t fix. “You’re supposed to catch me bridal-style. We talked about this.”
Mikey gestures down at himself. He’s in a horribly tacky knight’s outfit, complete with a gaudy belt that takes up half of his waist and flimsy, silver boots. He probably bought it, like, half an hour ago. “You would have messed up my costume.”
Frank is about to fire back that he knows Mikey doesn’t give a damn about his costume because he’s probably going to go home wearing something else anyway, when he realizes that there’s another guy standing next to him. “Oh, shit, hi. Mikey didn’t say he was bringing anyone.”
After a nudge from Mikey, the guy says, “I’m Gerard. Mikey’s brother.”
Frank’s lips form a circle as he mouths oh. Because he’s heard of this brother, sure, but only in passing — as in, my brother likes that comic too or my brother’s a senior now or my brother’s a recluse who lives in the basement. That last one comes up the most.
Still, in his three years of knowing Mikey, it’s the first time he’s ever laid eyes on Gerard. He doesn’t see much resemblance. But, shit, it wouldn’t have killed Mikey to tell Frank that Gerard is so pretty.
“Hey.” Frank smiles and extends a hand. It takes a second before Gerard extracts his own out of his pocket and shakes. He’s not even in a costume, just a dark hoodie and jeans. Paired with the stringy black hair, though, it still looks spooky, so Frank isn’t going to call him out on it. “I’m Frank. It’s cool to finally meet you.”
A stricken look passes over Gerard’s face, but it’s gone in an instant. “Has Mikey, uh — said a lot about me?”
“Some.” Frank shrugs, hoping that’s not the wrong answer.
“All bad things,” Mikey deadpans, making Gerard frown. Mikey scoffs and pokes him until the dour expression lifts.
An awkward bout of silence follows, during which Frank stares at Gerard out of the corner of his eye and tries to come up with a conversation topic that won’t come across as blatant flirting while Mikey is standing right there. Gerard looks at his shoes. Mikey bobs his head up and down to the Monster Mash remix blasting from the stereo. Then Gerard decides to put them all out of their misery and clears his throat, saying, “Well, I’m going to go get a drink.”
He wanders off, bumping into a few people on his way to the hall. Frank waits until Gerard is completely out of sight before he leans back against the door and nonchalantly asks, “So, what’s his deal?”
Naturally, Mikey sees right through it. He rolls his eyes to the moon. “You can’t be serious.”
“No, dude, I didn’t mean—” Frank tries to spin it for a moment before giving up. The cons of having an awesome best friend is that he always knows what’s in Frank’s head. “Okay, I did mean. But it’s my birthday,” he whines.
Mikey pins him with a glare. “It took a miracle to get him here at all, Frank. Don’t push it.”
“But—”
“It’s a bad idea.”
“Just one—”
“I said not to push it.”
“Okay, okay.” Frank lifts up both hands as a white flag. “I won’t hit on him.”
Mikey’s posture relaxes a little. “Thank you.”
“But if he hits on me—”
“Frank,” Mikey groans at the ceiling.
Frank soldiers on. “—All I’m saying is, if he hits on me, the situation is out of my control.” He has to bite his lip to keep the smile at bay. “After that, whatever happens, happens.”
“You’re the worst,” Mikey laments. “You are honestly, truly, the worst person I know.”
“It’s my birthday,” Frank repeats, remorseless.
“Just—” Mikey shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s about to say. “Just don’t tell me about it, okay?”
“I am a steel trap, Mikeyway.” Frank zips his lips and then offers up his knuckles for a fistbump, but Mikey swats him aside. That’s probably fair.
Deep down, he knows Mikey isn’t actually pissed. It’s hard to stay mad at Frank, especially on a double-whammy holiday like this one. Besides, Frank always gives Mikey access to the upstairs guest room so he can exercise his supernatural ability to get laid in thirty seconds flat. He owes him one.
Luckily, Gerard is still in the kitchen when Frank gets there. He’s staring at a bottle of Bud like he plans to open it with his mind. Frank knows for a fact that there are still PBR cans in the fridge, so it’s a mystery why Gerard went this route at all, but Frank can’t help being a little charmed by it.
“Bottle opener?” he asks, startling Gerard out of his staring contest with the beer.
Gerard blinks at him a couple of times. “Oh, uh. Yeah. Thank you.”
Frank squeezes past where Gerard is standing by the island to get to the correct drawer, maybe a little closer than strictly necessary, but no one has to know. Metal clinks as he rummages around for a minute before he finds what he needs. There are normally three bottle openers in his kitchen, but the other two have already disappeared. Probably into the waistbands of trashy dudes he didn’t invite. He smiles as he hands the opener over, shocked when Gerard returns the expression. He’d pegged the guy as stoic as Mikey, but apparently he had just needed to warm up.
But — wait, maybe Gerard is in costume. The grin was brief, but Frank definitely saw a flash of pointy teeth. That would be a more subtle vampire look compared to the literal cape Frank is donning. He’s not one to judge, though. He wants to get a second look, but he’s unsure how to ask a guy he just met to smile again without sounding like a complete tool.
“So.” Gerard’s mouth doesn’t move much when he talks, and that sort of makes Frank want to hit something. He doesn’t get a look when Gerard lifts up his bottle and takes a sip, either. “This is your house.”
Frank nods, because, well, “It is.”
“Yeah, that was a stupid thing to say.” Gerard ducks his head, and Frank bites his tongue to stop from cursing out loud, because he swears Gerard smiled just then. “Also, for the record,” Gerard continues, oblivious, “Mikey’s told me some things about you too.”
“Yeah?” Frank lifts an eyebrow and mimics Mikey. “All bad things?”
“I don’t think so,” Gerard tells the floor. “Just about, like, what you’re into. That you play guitar. He also said you have shitty taste in comics, but I don’t believe that, because he has shitty taste in comics.”
“God, doesn’t he?” Frank is maybe a little too passionate about this particular topic. “Like, Batman over Watchmen? Is he crazy?”
“He is,” Gerard says solemnly, finally looking up to shoot Frank a grin. It lasts a little longer this time, and it’s enough for Frank to confirm that yes, Gerard does have fake fangs in. And damn, Frank thought he bought good fangs, but Gerard is totally giving him a run for his money. He can’t even tell where Gerard’s are glued on. Frank squints, trying to figure it out. Fuck, maybe Gerard cosmetically sharpened his canines and they always look like that. That would kind of make him a freak. Frank is surprised to realize that he doesn’t care.
Gerard must notice him staring, because his face drops and he gets twitchy. He reaches for the beer but then retracts his hand. “Not to be a narcissist, but like, what did Mikey actually tell you about me?”
Oh, shit, Frank knows an opening when he sees one. This doesn’t count as flirting, not technically, but it’s certainly headed in the right direction. Time to crank up the charm. “Not enough, apparently. What should I know?”
“He didn’t tell me that much about you, either,” Gerard says, ignoring the question. His eyes are intense all of a sudden, like whatever he’s about to say could make or break this. Frank really wants to make this. “I feel like — there’s something important that he should have told us about each other, but he didn’t. Do you know what I mean?”
Yes, Frank almost shouts, because it was fucking criminal of Mikey to not pass along the information that his brother is drop-dead gorgeous and clearly not straight. Frank is going to have to fill Mikey’s pillowcase with shaving cream or something later to rebalance the scales.
“Yeah.” Frank tries to lower his voice without being too obvious about it. “I know exactly what you mean.”
“Thank god.” Gerard splits into a full smile, all of his teeth on display now. They’re smaller than normal, even the fake fangs. Frank definitely should not find it as cute as he does. “That’s such a relief. I was worried about, like — I don’t go out a lot for a reason, you know? But on Halloween, it’s so easy to blend in, so I thought maybe this party would actually go well for once.”
“I think it’s going well.” Frank edges a little closer. He can see the details of Gerard now, the slightly chapped lips and a little angel’s kiss under his eye, but they’re still far away enough that if Mikey walks in he won’t have an aneurysm. “A lot better than I expected, actually.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Gerard’s eyes crinkle happily, like he already knows the answer.
“Let’s see.” Frank pretends to think about it for a moment. “Nobody’s broken my mom’s good vase yet. The beer’s still cold. Plus, I met this really cute guy.” He crooks his mouth into half a smirk and looks up at Gerard from under his eyelashes. “And I think he kinda likes me, too.”
Gerard plays it coy. “What’s this guy like?”
“He’s someone I should have met a long time ago.” If Frank leans forward any more, they’re going to be chest-to-chest. “And, god, he’s amazing. Prettiest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen. Apparently he thinks he’s too cool to wear a whole costume to my party, though.”
“Maybe he didn’t know it was a costume party,” Gerard mumbles, averting his gaze.
“I’ll forgive him,” Frank says. “He’s got good taste in comics.”
“I think you should make a move on him.” There’s an adorable pink tint high up on Gerard’s cheekbones. His tongue pokes out and wets the corner of his lips. Frank’s mind replays the movement again and again. “You know. If you want.”
Fucking hell, does Frank want. That’s all the invitation he needs. He leans forward, wrapping a hand around the side of Gerard’s neck, and pulls him down for a kiss. Gerard’s lips are a little colder than Frank is used to, and the new sensation shoots lightning down to his toes.
Gerard makes a breathless noise into the kiss and Frank takes the opportunity to deepen it, smiling against Gerard’s mouth once Gerard really gets with the program and wraps his arms around Frank. Frank brings his other hand up to cup Gerard’s jaw after a minute and uses the grip to tilt his head a little, disconnecting their mouths so he can drag his lips over to Gerard’s ear.
He bites the lobe gently, and the gasp Gerard lets out in response is so much better than Frank could have even imagined. “You should come upstairs with me,” he murmurs. He doesn’t even have the full sentence out before Gerard is nodding against his neck.
He grabs Gerard’s hand, holding it low between them just in case Mikey is still sober enough to notice, and they take the stairs two at a time. Frank’s bedroom is still empty, thank god. They stumble in, and Frank has Gerard pressed up against the door faster than it can even click shut. Gerard melts against him, hot and unbelievably good.
“Hey.” Frank breaks the kiss to talk, his voice already raspy around the edges. “Did you know it’s my birthday?”
Gerard tilts his chin down to look Frank in the eye. His lips are red. “Your birthday’s on Halloween?”
“Yeah.” Frank grins; it’s no secret that he’s proud of that.
Rolling his eyes, Gerard actually laughs. “Fuck, of course it is.”
Since Frank has told that fun fact to approximately everyone under the sun, he’s garnered a lot of reactions. That one, though, is new. He’s not entirely sure what Gerard means by it, but he’s a little too busy sucking a bruise into the skin below his ear to care. Gerard is totally into it, clutching Frank’s shoulders and tipping his head back. And, fuck, if this is what seventeen looks like, Frank is going to have a hell of a year.
When he skates his mouth over the pulse point on Gerard’s neck, he honest-to-god moans. If just the ghost of contact can do that, then, fuck — he goes back to exploit the spot, sucking on it and digging his teeth in. He must bite a little too hard, though, because there’s a faint crack and then his left fang is on the floor.
“Oh, shit.” Frank giggles and steps back slightly so he can lean down and pick it up. As much as he loves the whole making out thing that had just been going on, those motherfuckers were expensive, and if he doesn’t grab it now he’ll never find it again in the cream-colored carpet. “I used denture glue on these things, but I guess that’s not strong enough for — well, you know.” He recovers the broken fang and pockets it, looking back up at Gerard. Gerard’s entire face has gone white.
Frank tilts his head at him. “Gerard? You okay?”
“Um.” Gerard is staring at his mouth, but not in the hot, I-want-to-keep-sticking-my-tongue-down-your-throat sort of way, more wide-eyed and alarmed. He makes no move to finish his sentence.
Frank casts around for an explanation. “Did you drink too much or something?”
“No, I didn’t…I didn’t even finish that beer.” That should be a relief, really, since the nearest bathroom is all the way down the hall, but Frank is a little too freaked out to appreciate it.
There’s only one other thing he can think of, and even though he really, really doesn’t want to ask about it, he knows he has to. Mikey did mention that Gerard rarely gets out of the basement, after all. “Are you…a virgin?”
It makes Frank wince to say it out loud, but at least it finally knocks the stupor off of Gerard’s face. “I’m not a fucking virgin,” he hisses, eyes narrowed.
Frank rocks back on his heels, trying tamper down the hot flash of irritation. “Then what the fuck is the problem?”
Instead of answering, Gerard reaches forward. Frank goes stock-still, no idea where this is headed, until Gerard rests a finger on his mouth. “Dude,” he says, and Gerard takes the opportunity to get two fingers in there and hold it open. Seriously — what the fuck? Frank doesn’t want to have to bite him, not like that, but if things move another inch in the direction of Creepville he might just have to.
He feels Gerard’s fingers close around the other fake fang. He tugs, and then there’s a familiar cracking noise. Gerard holds the fang in front of Frank’s face like he’s never seen one before. “You’re not a vampire,” he accuses.
“No shit.” Frank is kind of pissed about having his surviving fang forcibly removed, because he’d already been formulating plans to pass off the right-fang-only look as a vampire pirate of some sort. “Can you give that back?”
Gerard hands it over, and Frank shoves it deep in his pocket. This whole thing is a bust now. Seventeen doesn’t look so fucking great anymore. “I’m just gonna go, man, and if I see Mikey I’ll tell him—”
“Wait.” Gerard grabs his arm, surprisingly strong. There’s not much Frank can do about it considering Gerard is still blocking the door. “Fuck, I’m doing this all wrong. Let me explain.”
“Look.” Frank rubs a hand over his face. This is so not the conversation he wants to be having. It doesn’t help that the bruise on Gerard’s neck has started to darken distractingly. “Sorry that I can’t satisfy your vampire fetish, or whatever the fuck. I don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve been out in the real world, but normally people don’t act so surprised when they find out their hookup isn’t a mythological creature of the night.”
Gerard clears his throat and looks away. “Uh. Vampires aren’t mythological.”
“Jesus, you read too many comics.” Frank reaches for the doorknob. He might have to yank it open even with Gerard acting as a human blockade.
“Yeah, maybe, but that has nothing to do with this,” Gerard says tersely. “We’re real.”
Frank stills. “Excuse me, we?”
“We,” Gerard repeats. “My fangs aren’t fake, Frank.”
“You.” Frank levels a finger at him, not even sure what to say. “I don’t know what you’re tripping on, but you took too much.”
Gerard makes a frustrated noise in his throat. “I didn’t take anything, asshole. Why the hell do you think we’ve never met before? Do you think I hide away in my basement all the time because I want to?”
Frank opens his mouth to bite back with how yeah, he kind of did think that, but shuts it again before he can get words out. He doesn’t want that story to add up, but fuck, it does. “Did Mikey put you up to this? Is he trying to fuck with me again? Because we agreed sabotaging hookups is against the rules.”
“Mikey doesn’t want me touching you with a ten foot pole.” With another huff, Gerard says, “Want me to prove it?”
“Yes,” Frank says immediately, then realizes he doesn’t know what the hell that entails. “Wait, no, you’re not allowed to bite me. None of that shit.”
“I wasn’t going to, Christ. I don’t even feed from humans.” Frank really wishes Gerard hadn’t said feed. It makes him feel way too much like he’s in a shitty scene from Twilight. “I’m going to adjust your blood flow.”
Frank can’t help it, he squeaks. “What?”
“I can see your blood flow under your skin. I’m just going to redirect it a little bit. It won’t hurt.”
“You’re a freak,” Frank manages, no venom behind it. But before he can decide what to do next, Gerard has a hand on the side of his neck. An odd pulling sensation spreads through his arms. They tingle and go numb. “Oh, shit. Dude, what the fuck.”
“Believe me now?” Gerard takes his hand off of Frank and the blood rushes back into his limbs, stirring up pins and needles in their wake. It’s so much sensation at once that Frank’s knees go weak. He looks down to make sure that all of his appendages are still attached to his body but instead sees that, oh, okay, he’s hard again. Fuck. His cheeks flame.
“I know it feels weird.” Gerard strokes his thumb over Frank’s brow bone. It’s just a normal touch, thankfully, albeit colder than most people’s. “I know it’s a lot to process. I really thought — I thought you were one too, honestly, and I was just excited to finally have some company.”
“Is Mikey not?” Frank is still catching his breath. Gerard shakes his head no. An unexpected pang of guilt hits Frank in the stomach, because living like that probably gets lonely. “Sorry I can’t — sorry I’m not what you thought I was, I guess.”
“I still like you,” Gerard says, and he’s looking at Frank like he actually means it. “And I promise I’m not just saying that because I want to drink your blood. I much prefer rats.”
“This would be a lot easier if you didn’t say things like that.” Frank tries for a smile, but it wobbles. Gerard’s face falls.
“I can go, if you want. I get it.”
“No, I don’t—” Now it’s Frank’s turn to grab Gerard’s arm. He latches on, and Gerard turns to look at him curiously. “I mean, I think. Um.”
“You think what?” he asks softly. There’s a hope in his eyes that’s way too bright for someone who is supposedly undead.
“I think—” Frank already knows what he thinks. He’s known it since he’d shaken hands with Gerard at the door, even if back then it was unclear how deep it ran. Saying it out loud, though, is an entirely different matter. Try as he might, his blush won’t settle down.
He has to clear his throat a few times before he can get the words out. “I think I want to have kinky vampire sex with you.”
*
“So.” Frank rolls over so the air can dry the sweat on his back. Gerard is next to him, eyes barely slitted open, with a whole new collection of bruises trailing down his throat. Even in afterglow, he looks so good it makes Frank’s stomach twist. “I gotta ask. Can you turn into a bat?”
Gerard rolls his eyes as best he can without opening them all the way. “No, that’s bullshit. If I could, I would have flown out of here by now.”
“Liar,” Frank accuses, batting Gerard’s chest. There’s still some dry come on it. “What about silver?”
“Isn’t that werewolves?”
“I don’t know. Stakes?”
“I am yet to encounter one in real life.”
“Mirrors?”
“Fake.”
“How old are you, then?”
“One million.”
“Smartass.” Frank rolls onto his side. “Okay, fine. How about this?”
Before Gerard can ask any questions, Frank reaches over and opens his nightstand drawer. Beneath layers of things that are much more relevant to his interests nowadays — guitar picks, condoms, lube — is his old rosary. He hasn’t so much as touched it since seventh grade when he loudly proclaimed he was done going to church and that liking dick was no longer just experimental, but now’s as good a time as ever. Grabbing it, he presses the tip of the cross to the inside of Gerard’s arm.
“Fuck!” Gerard hisses, flinching away in an instant. “What the fuck, Frank?”
“I figured they were all legends!” Frank defends, quickly throwing the rosary back into the drawer it came from. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think it would actually hurt you.”
“Now you know.” Gerard sighs, rubbing the spot a little. It’s not blistered or anything, but it’s an angry red.
Frank leans over and lifts Gerard’s hand away, replacing it with his lips instead. He kisses the burn gently, and when Gerard doesn’t wince or roll away, he does it again, looking up at Gerard through his eyelashes. Gerard hums contentedly. Through the walls, Frank can still hear the bass pounding out of the party’s stereo, but he’s more than happy to just lay here and forget the outside world.
“Oh, man,” Frank suddenly realizes. “Mikey is never going to fucking forgive me.”
Gerard laughs. “You think sleeping with me is bad? Wait until he finds out I told you I’m a vampire.”
“Fuck,” Frank groans against Gerard’s arm. “I know you’re smiling, fucker, stop it. He’s going to kill me. Like, actually murder me. I’m going to die.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll bring you back to life.”
“Not helping,” Frank grouches.
“Still, worth it?” asks Gerard.
Frank shakes his head, but he can’t lie. “Worth it.”