Archive of Our Own

The weather outside is brutal. It's only the beginning of October, but the wind is freezing, and Mikey tells him that they're promising snow. Gerard's surprised Mikey even knows that, but it turns out that one of the guys at work told him. So. All is still right with the world. Except for the fucking wind. Gerard hunches over and pulls his coat tight around him, hurrying toward his favorite coffee shop.

Inside, he instantly starts sweating, and shucks off his coat, getting his scarf tangled. When he finally stops messing with it he looks up and swears. The line is fucking huge. Everyone is hiding from the cold. Just then a voice calls, "Latte for Gerard."

Gerard blinks and steps out of the line to see the counter better. Frank catches his eye and grins, inclines his head toward the latte waiting for him, then moves back to take the rest of the orders. Gerard fucking loves Frank.

Gerard would love to hang out at the counter a bit and chat, but Frank's obviously busy, so Gerard pays and smiles into his coffee cup as he sits down at a corner table to draw. He looks up when Frank stops by a while later to bring him another cup, black this time. "What if I'd wanted something else instead earlier?" he asks, and Frank's lips quirk up into a smile.

"You always start with a latte."

It's true; Gerard has tried many of the other drinks, but his first choice has never differed, not as long as he's been coming here. So it isn't really surprising that Frank knows that, but Gerard's still pleased.

"Man, that looks really fucking cool," Frank says, looking at the sketch Gerard's working on, and Gerard lifts his hand to his hair, momentarily self-conscious. It's always fun to talk to Frank about his art, though, but just as he's about to open his mouth, the door opens and a bunch of high school students pile in. Frank groans, and throws Gerard an apologetic look. "Sorry. As you can see, we're fucking swamped today."

"No, I mean. It's fine," Gerard says, shaking his head, and watches as Frank moves back behind the counter. He takes a sip of his coffee and gets back to drawing.

Gerard's been at the shop for a while when his phone beeps with a new text. He reaches for it reluctantly; he's really hitting his stride right now with this scene. He glances at the phone, then stops and stares. It's Mikey.

sry i'm late, you have app. w/ editor today at 4

It's almost half past three. "Fuck." He hurriedly grabs his things, and rushes to the counter. "Latte to go?"

Frank looks a little taken aback, and Gerard notices he just cut in front of a ton of people. "Shit, I'm so—" Frank shakes his head.

"One moment." Gerard taps his fingers against the counter, biting his lip and looking just at Frank. He hates people who cut in line, and now he's one of them, fuck. Frank's making the latte for him, and another barista takes over the counter. Finally, Frank hands him the cup, and Gerard smiles in thanks and turns to go. Frank yells a "bye" after him, and Gerard lifts a hand in response.

He's already halfway down the street when he notices there's something on the lid. He frowns and lifts it closer to his face, squints at it. It's a small sketch of a dragon, breathing fire. Frank has written "HOT!" next to it, and Gerard feels warm all of a sudden. There's a possibility that Frank draws on a lot of the cups, but Gerard somehow doubts it. He still ends up burning his tongue with the coffee, but he doesn't really mind.

~

Frank usually really enjoys his job. He hadn't expected to, when he applied for it. But most of his co-workers are fun, or at least tolerable, and he likes interacting with people.

Some days really suck, though. Like today. They're too swamped, and one of the baristas got sick and had to leave. No one has come in to replace him yet, and Frank is on edge. The sick barista was having stomach problems, and if it's a bug then Frank is fucked. Just thinking about it makes his stomach turn over, so it's hard to tell if he's getting sick already, or what.

He takes some deep breaths before moving on to the next customer. When he looks up he's faced with the sight of a really sleepy Gerard.

"One—" Gerard's cut off by a yawn. Frank smiles, despite himself.

"— latte, coming up," he finishes, and waves off Gerard's money. Gerard looks slightly confused about it, but he moves to the side to wait for his coffee. Frank wants to talk with him for a little while, but he lets him go. He knows it's pretty much impossible to hold a conversation with Gerard before he's had his morning coffee.

He notices that Gerard stays near the counter as he takes his first sip. Frank watches him idly for a moment, then blushes and turns his eyes quickly back to the customer in front of him. Gerard sometimes looks seriously pornographic when he's inhaling his coffee.

"You're really busy," Gerard notes, when Frank passes by him on his way to the coffee bar.

Frank startles and swears when he almost drops the stirrers, fumbling for them. "I wish I had more hands." He crouches down to grab the few that fell.

"Shit, sorry—" Gerard bends down as well, to help.

"Thanks," Frank says, and takes the stirrers from him. "I have to—" He indicates toward the counter.

"Oh, right," Gerard says. "Sorry, I'll get out of your way." He ambles off, looking sheepish. Frank watches him go, then sighs and hurries back to the counter.

The day is too fucking long. By the time he actually has a moment to breathe, Gerard has already left. Frank tries not to feel too disappointed. Gerard's just— He's fun to talk to. He always seems interested in what Frank has to say—if he manages to drag himself away from his comic, that is—and he has this really stupid laugh and— Frank is so fucked.

He's cleaning up when he finds a piece of paper someone has tucked between the coffee mugs. He unfolds it, curious, and comes face to face with... Himself. It's a sketch of him, but with eight arms, and a satisfied smirk on his face. The hands are all carrying something, except one pair that's settled on his hips. One of them is holding a guitar. It looks fucking awesome. Gerard has written in the corner: "I know you don't like spiders, but I couldn't resist."

Frank grins and carefully folds the picture in half to take it with him. He sticks it to his fridge when he gets home and goes to fetch his guitar from the closet. He put it away the last time he cleaned up before a party, and hasn't taken it out since. He's not really sure why, except— He couldn't really think about it before, without also thinking about the band. It still reminds him of the break-up, but it doesn't really hurt that much anymore. He runs his hand over the neck, fond. He settles on the couch to fiddle with a few songs, and ends up playing halfway into the night.

~

Frank had known he couldn't actually beat the odds: the cold weather, rain, people at work getting sick; but he'd still hoped. Then one day he wakes up with a stuffy head and a rattle in his chest when he breathes.

He sighs, running a hand over his face, and gets up to get ready for work.

It's probably his fault. He had the evening off yesterday, so he trudged around in bad weather: going to the closest comic store, stopping by his usual bar to see if anyone had taken interest in his offering to start up a band again. Of course that doesn't make him feel any better, but he isn't bad enough to not go to work. He doubts it's contagious, anyway. It's just a cold. It will pass. He takes some DayQuil and heads off.

He feels a little worse when he gets to the shop, but it's nothing he can't handle. He isn't as fast with orders as usual, which sucks, but luckily they don't have more customers than on an average day, so he soldiers on. He almost misses Gerard when he comes by; Gerard seems a bit out of it as well, but he still smiles at Frank. Frank blinks a little before his brain clicks on again, and he processes Gerard's order.

"Frank?" Gerard asks. "Everything okay?"

Frank shakes his head, and quickly turns it into a nod. "I'm fine."

"Well, okay," Gerard says, and he might sound a bit dubious, but Frank really can't tell. It feels like his head is filling with cotton. "You look like you need some coffee, though."

Frank grumbles something unintelligible even to himself, and hands Gerard back his change. Their fingers brush and Frank feels himself shiver. He isn't even sure if it is Gerard or if he has a damn fever.

"Seriously, Frank, coffee would be good for you," Gerard says, and hastily moves out of the way when the person behind him clears his throat. He gives Frank a little wave, and heads over to his usual spot. Frank shakes his head to clear it, but just ends up feeling a bit dizzy. He moves on to the next customer.

Frank goes over to bring Gerard another cup when there's a lull. He says he does it because Gerard's a loyal customer, but at first he just used it as an excuse to hang around, get a chance to talk to him. It's become sort of a habit, now. And Gerard always gives him this smile—when he notices Frank, that is.

Today Gerard looks up at him, and smiles briefly, but he looks... nervous. His hands twitch, but when Frank looks at them, Gerard quickly lays them on top of whatever he's working on.

"Aw, man," Frank says. "That's harsh."

"What?" Gerard asks. "No, I just—" The expression on his face makes Frank crack up. His head throbs a little when he laughs, fuck.

"Nah, it's fine," he says. "Let me guess, it's top secret." He's mostly just teasing Gerard, but Gerard usually always shows him what he's currently working on—ever since the first day Frank asked him about it—so he is pretty curious.

"No," Gerard hedges. "It's just not finished yet."

Frank shrugs. He guesses it's fine if Gerard doesn't want to tell him, though he is a bit disappointed. Then again, he might see if when Gerard's finishes it, so.

"Hey, I'm sure it'll be awesome," he says, and Gerard smiles at him, bright. Frank grins back, and starts to move away, when Gerard says his name.

"Uh," Gerard says, looking hopeful. "Coffee?" He points at the cup in Frank's hand, and Frank stares at it as well.

"Oh," he says, realizing. "Fuck, I'm such a space case today." He hands it over, and gives Gerard an apologetic smile.

"It's fine," Gerard says. Frank continues to stand by the table, and Gerard looks up at him, inquiring.

"Oh," Frank says. "Right, I'll let you get back to that." Fuck, he's totally out of it today, damn cold. Gerard furrows his brow, but doesn't respond, so Frank nods, and goes back behind the counter.

The rest of the day passes in a similar manner. Frank almost messes up the orders twice, and accidentally spills a Pumpkin Spice Latte. During his break he pops two DayQuil and tries to shake it off. It helps, a bit, and so does the coffee he makes for himself.

Frank misses Gerard leaving, but it seems he stayed pretty late, because when Frank's cleaning up the tables before his shift is over he finds another drawing at Gerard's table.

It depicts a Frank with clear eyes and a bright smile, holding a cup of coffee in his hand. "Coffee is good for you," Gerard has written on it, and Frank smiles down at it. He remembers that he didn't actually thank Gerard for the previous one, and curses himself, but oh well. He'll do it tomorrow.

"Cool drawing," someone says, and Frank startles. It's just Alicia, and Frank pushes at her shoulder.

"You almost gave me a fucking heart attack."

Alicia just shrugs, unconcerned. "Did your artist boy draw that?" she asks, instead.

"He's not my fucking boy," Frank says, rolling his eyes. "But yeah, it was Gerard."

"It's cute," Alicia says, and Frank finds himself smiling again. Alicia raises her eyebrows. Fuck.

"Whatever," he says, shaking his head. "It's just a— It's nothing." He folds it up, and puts it in his back pocket.

It's Alicia's turn to roll her eyes. "Yeah, whatever," she repeats, and shrugs her coat on. "Well, I'm heading out. Catch you tomorrow."

She turns around, though, at the door. "You know he totally would be if you just asked him out, right?" Frank makes a face at her, and she shrugs. "I'm just saying. Again. Seriously, you've heard it so many times, I thought it would have stuck by now."

Frank waves her off, and she gives him a smile before she goes. Frank will never tell her this, but she's totally Frank's favorite.

By the time he gets home, he's feeling better. He's still a bit tired, so he takes some more medicine and goes to bed, hopeful.

~

The next morning, Frank wakes up feeling like absolute shit. He groans and rolls over to turn off the alarm, but the movement shifts something inside him and he starts coughing. Once he can breathe again, he reaches for his phone and calls Alicia.

She agrees to find someone to cover his shift, and tells him to get better. He's grateful to her for never complaining when he's sick and asks her to help him find a replacement. Frank tries to make it up to her whenever he can. He hangs up and falls back into a fitful sleep.

When he wakes up again, he wants to kick himself for falling asleep without taking any medicine. He gingerly pushes himself up and takes a few deep breaths, testing. Sure enough, the cough hits him again, making his stuffy head pound.

He stumbles to the bathroom when he finally can breathe again, and takes a couple of swallows of NyQuil. He stands in front of the sink for a while, staring at himself in the mirror: bleary eyes, dirty hair, pale; before making himself walk back to the bedroom.

He has no idea what time it is when the phone's ringing jolts him awake. He starts coughing immediately, and flails for the phone while trying to get himself under control.

"Hello," he rasps into the phone, clasping it with both hands. He's so cold, fuck. Why doesn't he have more blankets on his bed, seriously.

"Frankie?"

Frank thinks better of trying to clear his throat and instead shuffles back a little to lean against the headboard. "Hi, Mom."

"Oh, honey," his mom says. "Are you sick again?"

Frank squeezes his eyes shut and swallows. He hates to make his mother worry. "Just a bit."

"Do you have enough medicine?"

"Yeah," Frank says, though he doesn't actually remember the last time he checked his supplies.

"Are you sure? Maybe you could call someone so they'd pick some up for you?"

"I'm sure, Mom," Frank assures her. "And it's not that bad."

"If it gets worse—"

"Then I'll go to Urgent Care," Frank promises, even though he knows he'll hold out on that until the last possible minute.

"Okay," his mom says. "Well, I'll let you get back to sleep, honey. Call me later."

"I will, Mom. Love you."

He calls Alicia after, to say he can't come in tomorrow either, before he falls asleep.

Frank wakes up in the middle of the night, coughing so hard he almost throws up. He takes the last of the NyQuil he has. He's sweating like crazy, and he throws the covers off; falls back asleep, shivering.

The second day is always the worst, and Frank drifts into awareness in the morning, his head pounding and his stomach muscles sore from all the coughing he did during the night.

He staggers up to go to the bathroom, and he's not exactly sure how long it takes him to get there, but it feels like forever. He thinks about splashing some water on his face, because his skin is on fire, but he's too exhausted and it hurts too much. Blearily, he searches for more DayQuil, but he's out of that, too. He swears, thumping his head against the cupboard, and then cries out, because fuck, that hurt so bad. He finds some Tylenol that will hopefully tide him over until tomorrow.

He's not sure what he'll do when he runs out of Tylenol as well, but it's hard to concentrate on that right now. He drags himself back to the bedroom and falls asleep on top of the covers.

The next time he wakes up, it feels like there's something in his lungs, something huge and painful, and then there is, and he's filling up with it, fucking razorblades, or something, and he tries to reach for the phone, but it's not there, and he's not even in his room, where the fuck is he, and then his chest opens up and—

Frank startles awake from the nightmare, and starts coughing immediately. The dream is hard to shake off, so he gets up after the cough stops. He wraps a blanket around himself and goes into the kitchen to get something to drink. He ends up making himself some tea with the last pack he has left, then curls up on the couch with it. He's too tired to turn on the TV so he just sits there for a while, breathing.

He starts coughing again when he takes the first sip of tea, and spills almost half of it. Luckily it's not as hot anymore, so at least he's not burnt, just wet and miserable. He almost throws the cup across the room, but he can't even summon up the energy for it. Plus, it was a gift from his Mom. He lies down on the couch, and squeezes his eyes shut, fighting for composure for— fuck even knows why.

His stomach starts really hurting late in the afternoon, and it would be just like him to come down with something else on top of this. He picks the teacup off from the floor—he doesn't recall putting it there—and takes it back to the kitchen. He wonders if some tea would soothe his stomach, and then remembers he's out.

The thing that annoys him the most is that he should be used to this, he pretty much is used to this, but it still sucks every fucking time, and even though he always gets through it—and usually without a visit to the ER, thank fuck—it just. It fucking sucks. That's all there is to it. He shakes his head, but that hurts, everything hurts, and he wants to call his mom, but that'd just make her worry, and she worries too much already.

So he drags himself into the bedroom, takes some more Tylenol, and lies down, arms wrapped around his stomach. He doesn't really fall asleep, but the meds do seem to be helping, so it's not that bad.

It doesn't get any worse during the evening, either, and the weird thing is he almost feels better after swallowing the last of the Tylenol. He calls his manager and apologizes for not being in for two days, and tells him he needs one more. Brian says he took Frank off the schedule for the rest of the week, and tells him not to worry and to feel better. Frank momentarily feels so fucking grateful he could cry.

He burrows under the covers and curls up, feeling like he might actually be getting over this shit already. Of course, he's still woken in the night by rasping coughs, but he doesn't really feel like he'll pass out any second when he gets up to go to the bathroom. He counts it as a win.

~

Gerard's so lost in the scene currently running through his head that he needs to get out right now that only when he's already sat down does he realize that the person he just bought his latte from wasn't Frank. Nor was Frank the guy who made the latte. It's a little strange, considering that Frank is always there, but a quick look at the counter confirms that either Frank is taking a break or he's not at work.

Gerard frowns, but then the story's calling out to him and he gets lost in detailing the new scene, and making rough sketches of it.

He's briefly confused when he goes to take a sip from his cup at one point and it hasn't been replaced with a new one. He wonders if Frank's busy before he remembers that Frank's not here today.

Gerard leaves the shop feeling a little unsettled. He got some good work done, though, even without Frank providing for his coffee needs. Regardless, he hopes he'll catch Frank tomorrow, maybe tell him about what he worked on today. That always helps him move on with a scene, and the way Frank nods intently and looks genuinely interested and excited— It's helpful.

But Frank's not there the next day, either. Gerard bites his lip before ordering his latte, and sits down at his usual table, feeling uncertain. He's been coming to the store for months now, and it's just not like Frank to not be there. He shakes his head and sets to work. Maybe Frank took a vacation or something. He'd seemed a bit tired the last time Gerard saw him.

He keeps catching himself staring at the counter, though, as if Frank will magically appear. Finally he just gives up and goes home. Maybe he can concentrate better there, for once.

~

The next morning Gerard's woken by the phone ringing. He blinks a little at the bedside clock before answering; it's almost one in the afternoon. "Yeah?" he says, when he picks up.

"Hi." It's Mikey. "Lunch? Breakfast?"

Gerard rubs his hand over his face, and flops down onto the bed. He'd tried working on his comic when he got home, but ended up sketching a bunch of stuff of Frank. Frank on holiday. Frank on a top secret mission. Frank at a concert and Frank performing on stage. Just little pieces of Frank doing anything Gerard could think of that would be better than being at work. He can't even remember going to bed.

"Gerard," Mikey says. Fuck, Gerard totally forgot that Mikey was getting back from LA last night; they'd made plans earlier that week to meet up as soon as possible. Gerard hasn't seen Mikey for two weeks, and he knows it isn't that long a time, not really, but it's Mikey. He isn't awake enough to consider food yet, though.

"Coffee?" Gerard mumbles. He can almost hear Mikey rolling his eyes.

"Sure," he says. "How about I meet you at the Starbucks closest to your apartment?"

"Yeah," Gerard says. "Yeah, fuck, I'll be right there. Wait, where are you?"

"I'm on my way to your place."

"Is it cold outside?" Gerard asks, glancing at the window. "You're wearing a decent coat, right? This isn't LA."

"Gerard," Mikey says, sounding fond. "Shower. Coffee. I'm hanging up now. I'll see you soon."

"Kay," Gerard says. "Love you.”

"Love you, too." Mikey's phone clicks off, and Gerard pushes up from the bed and drags himself into the shower.

~

Gerard gets to the Starbucks before Mikey, and orders his latte. Frank's still not there, and Gerard sighs. He really misses talking to Frank. He's just sat down at his usual table, when Mikey bursts through the door, coat wrapped tightly around himself.

Gerard beams, and rushes over to pull him into a hug. Mikey squeezes him tight, and Gerard just holds on to him for a bit. He still feels like they don't see each other often enough, even though they live in the same city. Mikey's always busy with his job, and every few months he flies out to LA. Gerard's not any better; sometimes he ends up locking himself away and working nonstop for days. Or, well, he used to, but he's gotten better at not doing that after he started coming here for coffee.

"Fuck, Mikes, I missed you."

Mikey nods against his shoulder, and Gerard breathes him in. Gerard finally releases him so he can take off his coat, and trails Mikey to the counter. They settle down at Gerard's table, and Mikey sips his coffee for a bit, while Gerard tells him about the latest progress he's made with the comic, and how he ran out of charcoal and wanted to go get more, but the usual shop he went to had been closed, because it was three in the morning, and it totally messed with his flow.

They sit there for a while, just talking, and Gerard feels more calm than he has in days. He nudges Mikey's foot with his, and Mikey smiles down into his cup. Gerard lifts his own cup to his mouth, but it's empty, and he stares at it, thinking about Frank.

Mikey's talking about the show of the band he'd been sent out to sign, and Gerard's trying to pay attention, but his gaze keeps drifting to the counter, to where Frank should be, but isn't. He keeps telling himself that there's nothing to worry about, but the whole thing is leaving him very unsettled. His sleep-deprived brain is coming up with all sorts of explanations, one more nonsensical than the other. Maybe Frank was kidnapped. Maybe he turned invisible. Maybe he turned into a werewolf, or maybe he is a werewolf. Gerard frowns, but no, he doesn't think it's the full moon right now. Maybe—

"Gee," Mikey says, snapping him out of his thoughts. "What's wrong?" Now Mikey looks worried, fuck. Gerard quickly shakes his head.

"Nothing." Mikey's expression turns even more concerned. "Really, I'm fine. Promise." He reaches out and touches Mikey's wrist.

Mikey's face relaxes a little, but he still raises his eyebrows in question.

"It's just... I've told you about Frank, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Mikey says, as if remembering. "That barista you like, fuck, I totally forgot. Where is he?" He cranes his neck toward the counter.

Gerard thinks about protesting, because he doesn't like Frank. Frank's just nice. He often brings Gerard a new cup, free of charge. Sometimes he comes over to Gerard when he's on break, and listens to him ramble. And sometimes draws on Gerard's coffee cup, and has the nicest smile. Fuck. Gerard shakes his head.

"That's just it. I haven't seen him in, like, three days." Gerard worries at his lip, then raises his fingers to his mouth.

"Maybe he's sick." Mikey shrugs. Gerard's head shoots up and Mikey looks amused. "What, did you think he had been taken by aliens or something?"

Gerard leans back in his chair, and runs his hands over his face. He'd noticed that Frank looked tired the last time he saw him, he had. He just wasn't really paying attention, fuck.

"I thought maybe he, like, took some vacation time or something." Or got bitten by a werewolf, he doesn't say.

"From Starbucks?" Mikey asks, eyebrow raised.

"Well, I don't know," Gerard says, exasperated, and runs his hands through his hair. "Do you think I should ask someone?"

Mikey looks at him then, like, really looks at him, and Gerard can feel his face growing warm.

"I just—"

"What are you going to ask? If he's sick?"

Gerard frowns, because isn't it obvious? "Yeah?"

"And what are you going to do if he is?" Mikey looks strangely intent about this.

"I don't know? I guess I'll just— I'll just know. I mean, maybe he, like, quit or something." The thought makes something sink in his gut and then he wants to kick himself, because Frank being sick would be much worse than him quitting a job, no matter what it means for Gerard. Mikey nods toward the counter and Gerard gets up before he can change his mind.

He stands there, twisting his hands, waiting for the person in front of him to get their order in. The guy behind the counter turns to him, then, and he cringes inwardly, but his desire to know about Frank outweighs the potential awkwardness. "Hi, uh. I was just wondering about Frank? Um, he hasn't been here for a few days, is he okay?"

The dude seems nice enough, though, and he gives Gerard a small smile, then shrugs his shoulders. "I heard he was pretty sick, man. Probably won't be back for a while." Gerard's stomach sinks. He mutters a thanks and slinks back to Mikey.

"Apparently he's really sick," he says, and takes a sip of Mikey's coffee just to do something with his hands. At least he knows that Frank's not missing because he's, say, actually missing. That should technically make him feel better—that's what worst case scenarios are for—but it really doesn't.

"Well, that sucks," Mikey says. "I'm sure he'll be fine, though, right?"

Gerard shrugs, and takes another sip. He twirls the cup around in his hands, staring down at it. "He said he didn't have a roommate or anything. What if... What if he's, like, all alone?"

"What about his friends?"

Gerard shrugs again. Frank had talked about some of his old band members, and sometimes mentioned some other people. Apparently his best friend, Toro, lives in Jersey, though. Also, Frank didn't really seem like the guy to pick up a phone and ask people to come take care of him. Maybe there was someone staying with him, but...

"You could ask for his address and go check up on him?" Mikey suggests.

Gerard splutters. "What, no. I can't just ask for his address, Mikey, there's no way they'll give it to me. And they shouldn't! I have no business—"

"Gerard," Mikey says. "You could go try, at least. Don't you want to make sure he's okay?"

"It's not— We're not, like, friends or anything, I can't just—"

"Gerard," Mikey interrupts him. "What do you know about Frank?" Gerard frowns, confused, and Mikey sighs. "What have you guys talked about?"

"Not much... Uh, he plays the guitar—used to be in a band, but they broke up and he hasn't found a new one yet. He asked me what I was writing, once, so I've told him about the comic, and we talked about the industry and such. Mostly about music, and favorite movies and stuff like that."

Mikey just stares at him, his eyebrows slowly rising, meaningfully.

"What?" Gerard folds his arms over his chest, and slouches a little in his chair.

"Gee, there are people you consider to be your friends who haven't even heard about the comic." Gerard opens his mouth to protest, but Mikey goes on. "Some of them don't even know what you do or where you work."

"Sometimes it just doesn't come up," Gerard says. "And I haven't seen some of them in ages."

"Yeah, but you still think of them as friends. It just seems to me that you know enough about this guy to think of him like that, too." Gerard sighs, and looks down. "Or more," Mikey adds, and Gerard bites his lip, because there's no point in arguing with Mikey. Especially when he's right.

"Mikey—" He doesn't know what to say. Maybe he does actually know Frank pretty well, but he doesn't even have his phone number or anything, he can't just show up out of the blue. But. "I just—"

"You're worried about him." Mikey states it as a fact. Gerard swallows, and nods. He really fucking is. He probably has no reason to be—people get sick, it happens, and then they get better. And seriously, even though they've had several conversations, that doesn't mean Frank will appreciate him showing up at his door. Mikey just inclines his head toward the counter.

A different barista is there this time, the girl who he's sometimes seen Frank talk to. Gerard twists his hands, unsure how to proceed. The girl raises her eyebrows.

"Your order?"

"Oh," he says. "No, um."

He glances at the name on her name tag—Alicia—but doesn't use it. He's always found it to be slightly invasive. Just because he knows their name doesn't mean he's really free to use it as if speaking to a friend. He swallows, and leans against the counter.

"I just heard— Uh, the other guy told me that Frank was sick?"

"Yeah," Alicia says, slowly.

"I just— I think he lives alone, and I was wondering if he was okay, but I don't really know his address, and... I was wondering if you could help me?"

"With what, exactly?" Alicia asks. "He's pretty sick, yeah. He probably won't be in for a while."

"Can I— Is there any way I could get his address? Just to check up on him."

Alicia narrows her eye at him. "I guess I could call him and ask. One second."

She glances around the shop before going into the back. Gerard looks back at Mikey, who raises an eyebrow. Gerard shrugs, and turns back to the counter. She returns shortly, with a frown on her face.

"He's not answering." Gerard's stomach sinks. He tries to convince himself that it's nothing, there are plenty of reasons why Frank won't pick up the phone. He's probably just sleeping and didn't hear it. Or he's dying, Gerard's brain puts in, and he shakes his head.

"Could you maybe give it to me anyway?"

"I don't know," she says, warily. "What if you're, like, a stalker?"

She's looking at him with distrust, and Gerard flounders. He tries to come up with a way to explain that he just wants to help, when Mikey slides in next to him.

"Hi," he says, giving Alicia a nod. "I know you probably think we don't have any business asking for this, but my brother's just really worried."

Alicia's face remains skeptical, but Mikey continues. "And you're worried too, right? We'd just go and check up on him."

Mikey sounds really convincing. Gerard himself would have caved a while back, just because of the way Mikey's looking at Alicia.

Alicia sighs. "I can't just give out information like that."

"Gerard's not a creep," Mikey says, and Gerard widens his eyes. "You've seen him talk to Frank, right? He's just worried about his friend." Mikey's voice does that thing where he's being so painfully honest, and hopeful, people can't help but give into him. He looks down and bites his lip, and Gerard knows it's mostly all unconscious, but fuck, it always works.

"Oh god," Alicia says, and covers her eyes with her hand. "Just stop talking. I'll go get the address."

Mikey looks confused, and a little hurt when she leaves. Gerard pats his shoulder. "You know when you do that face it's like saying no to a really sad kitten, right?"

"What face?" Mikey asks, and looks at the door Alicia disappeared behind. "Man, did you see her tattoos?"

Gerard blinks, because no, he didn't even notice. He studies Mikey's face, who's still staring at the door.

She returns, then, with the address, and Gerard thanks her profusely. She narrows her eyes at him before handing it over, and Gerard's glad now that Frank has such protective friends.

"Uh," Mikey says, and Gerard can hear the nervousness in his voice. "Could I get a Cafe Americano to go, please?"

"Sure," she says, and rings up his order. Before she hands it over she says, "If you guys mess with Frank, then I'm coming over and stealing all of your coffee supplies." Gerard blanches, because that is a serious threat, okay.

Mikey takes his coffee and smiles at Alicia. Gerard will honestly admit that he's staring now. God, Mikey's face.

Gerard goes to grab both of their coats, and stands near the door, waiting for Mikey. Mikey stays at the counter for a bit longer, and Gerard can't really hear what they're talking about, but Mikey's still smiling, and that means Gerard wants to grin, too.

Mikey finally says bye to Alicia and walks over to Gerard, holding his cup carefully. Gerard raises his eyebrows at him when he takes his coat, but Mikey just shrugs. Gerard shakes his head, and instead asks, "So, you're coming with me?"

"Of course, Mikey says, and Gerard bumps his shoulder in thanks.

~

Frank feels slightly better when he wakes up. He remembers hearing a phone ringing in his dream, but he can't find his anywhere near the bed, and he's too tired to go to look for it. He's not sure what time it is, but his lungs actually seem to be working, for now. His stomach feels better, too, if still slightly sore. He lies in bed, reveling in it for a little while. Soon enough, though, his head starts pounding. He pulls the covers over his head and tries to stay very still, breathe through it.

Then the pounding in his head gets louder, and Frank groans, tries to curl up even more. The motion makes him slightly nauseous, and his stomach protests, but it passes. The pounding doesn't stop and finally he realizes there's someone at his door, what in the actual fuck.

Getting up hurts, and he feels dizzy even just sitting up. He takes a few deeper breaths and feels the junk move in his lungs, fucking hell. He was feeling better, he was. Regardless, he pushes himself to his feet, because the faster he gets to the door the faster the noise will stop, and his head will hopefully stop feeling as awful as it does now.

He leans against the door when he gets there, and just tries to breathe for a bit, before he unlocks it. He pulls it open and stares.

At first he seriously think he's hallucinating with a fever, because there's no way Gerard is standing at his door.

"Frank," Gerard says, and smiles at him. "Hi, uh. Sorry about— I hope we're not bothering you, but we— Are you okay?" He sounds worried, suddenly, and Frank frowns. Why is Gerard here?

His vision swims a little and he leans harder on the door, blinking up at Gerard and— the guy behind him. Weird. This whole thing is seriously weird.

"Uh, can we come in?" Gerard asks, and Frank starts to answer when a coughing fit overtakes him, fuck. Everything goes blurry, but the coughs are sharp, tearing through his body and making his head pound even worse.

It seems like it'll never stop and he's fighting for breath, his abused stomach muscles screaming at him. He registers a hand under his elbow, barely keeping him upright. He almost panics for a second, it won't stop, and he doesn't understand what's going on anymore, but then someone's rubbing his back, and even though it doesn't really help with the coughs, it's calming.

After a bit, when he manages to take a couple of breaths between the coughs, he registers that someone is speaking, but he can only pick out random words and phrases.

"— the ER?" someone asks, and Frank shakes his head, because that won't help, he hates the ER, and he'll be fine in a second, seriously.

He doesn't realize he's been trying to say all that out loud between the racking coughs, that at least seem to be dying down now, finally, until someone—Gerard, it has to be Gerard—starts shushing him. Someone hands him a glass of water, and he downs it, grateful. Finally the cough dies away, and he stands there, just wheezing. Well, actually, he's more like leaning on someone, eyes closed.

The conversation goes on around him, "We can't— ...against his will." He's too tired to make sense of it so he turns to go back to the bedroom, but almost slips. The arms around him tighten, and he blinks his eyes open to make out Gerard, hair failing over his face, supporting Frank. Then they're moving and Frank realizes he's being taken to the bedroom, and he wants to splutter and insist he can walk himself or make a joke about it, about Gerard being eager, and Frank thinking Gerard would be a gentleman, but he's just so tired. Chills are running over his body and everything hurts.

Gerard lowers him to sit down on the bed, and Frank wants to just lie down and go back to sleep, but a hand on his shoulder stops him.

"Frank," Gerard says, and Frank blinks up at him, trying to get his eyes to focus. "You should probably take... Whatever you take for this cough before sleeping, yeah?"

Frank shakes his head and Gerard's hand slips lower, resting on his chest. Frank leans heavily against it. "I'm out of meds," he slurs.

"Fuck," Gerard swears, and turns to talk to the guy with him. Frank's gaze drifts over to him as well, and frowns, because Gerard didn't say he has a boyfriend or anythi— Wait. It must be Gerard's brother. Frank hopes it's Gerard's brother. He tries to focus on the conversation they're having, but it's slipping away from him, and he's so tired from feeling like this. He just wants to—

"Frank," Gerard says again, and shakes him a bit. Frank groans and tries to lift his hands to bat against him. "Hey, Mikey's going to go and get you some meds, okay. But— Are you sure we shouldn't be taking you to the hospital right now?"

"Yes," Frank says, as emphatically as he can manage at the moment. It probably doesn't sound very convincing, but fuck, he can handle this, okay. He's handling this. Plus, "I don't have health insurance, okay. And I'm fine; I've been sick before, okay. I'll be fine."

"Okay, okay," Gerard says, placating, and Frank realizes he's wheezing. "Just. Mikey?" He turns to look at the guy, who's just coming back into the room. Frank's pretty sure he didn't notice him leaving; fuck, he must have seriously drifted there for a while. Mikey shakes his head at Gerard, and Frank glances at him, curious.

"You're the brother," he says, and Mikey turns his gaze on him, blinks.

"Yeah." Mikey gives him a small smile, and Frank kind of really appreciates it. Seriously, like, what the fuck are they even doing here. His headache's getting stronger, though, and his stomach protests. He scoots up on the bed, gingerly, and collapses on the mattress.

Frank tries not to lose his focus, but he can feel his eyes slipping shut despite his efforts to stay awake. He registers someone pulling the covers over him, a hand brushing against his back, and thinks it's probably okay to sleep now.

~

Gerard pulls the covers up over Frank, and follows Mikey into the kitchen.

"Fuck," Gerard says, and folds his hands against his chest. "You didn't find anything in the bathroom?"

Mikey shakes his head, again. "I'm just gonna go get some NyQuil and cough medicine. Are you sure we shouldn't take him to the hospital?"

"No health insurance," Gerard says. "And he says he's fine—" Mikey scoffs. "—I know, I know. But it's not like we can just drag him there."

"He's small enough," Mikey says, and Gerard rolls his eyes.

"Just. Please, can you go now? Who knows when he ran out of meds. He really needs to take something for this."

Mikey pinches his lips together, but nods. He leans in for a brief hug, asks, "You gonna be okay here?"

"Of course," Gerard says. "I'm not the one who's sick." Mikey gives him a look, and Gerard averts his eyes, but seriously, it's— He does feel awkward, but it's obvious that Frank needs some help, and Gerard's really glad they decided to come over. "I'll be fine, you go."

Gerard stays in the kitchen after Mikey's left, looking around while working up the courage to go back into the bedroom. There are dirty dishes in the sink, and the counter's pretty messy, but otherwise it's a nice place. The living room, or what Gerard had noticed of if, had looked cool, too, and Gerard can totally imagine Frank holing up in there, curling up on the couch and playing guitar.

His gaze settles on the fridge, and he's taken aback. There's his drawing. Frank the spider; the one Gerard quickly sketched when Frank was really fucking busy, and wished for extra arms. He'd felt a bit bad about it then, the whole spider thing, and Frank hadn't said anything so he'd wondered if Frank had even gotten it, but. It's on his fridge.

Gerard bites his lip against the smile threatening to form. He hears Frank start coughing again then, and rushes back into the bedroom. He places a hand on Frank's shoulder. "Hey," he says. "Water?"

Frank nods and Gerard helps him lean up a bit, enough so he can take a few sips from the glass Gerard hands him.

"Mikey'll be back with the meds soon," he promises when Frank's done and lying back down. Frank doesn't answer, instead he whimpers and curls up more, wrapping his arms around his stomach. Gerard feels wretched. He's technically invading Frank's home, Frank didn't invite them in, and he's sick and Gerard doesn't know what to do.

He's reaching out and running his hand through Frank's hair before he realizes what he's doing. He goes to pull back, but Frank sighs, just a little, and Gerard can't. It's probably creepy, but if there's the slightest chance it's making Frank feel just a bit better, or maybe less alone—

He thinks about going to search through Frank's kitchen, the bathroom; maybe Frank had misplaced some of his meds, maybe he could find something that would help. But Frank seems to be breathing easier for now, and Gerard still feels weird being in Frank's apartment while he's asleep, so he just keeps running his hand through Frank's hair, murmuring soothingly.

Soon, Mikey returns from the store and helps Gerard give Frank some Mucinex and Advil. Frank's pretty out of it, but the coughs won't let him fall back asleep. Mikey goes to refill his glass, and Gerard stays perched on the edge of the bed, running a hand over Frank's back. It seems to help a little.

"Why—" Frank pauses to cough, and Gerard leans forward, but it doesn't turn into another fit. "Why are you here?"

"I was worried," Gerard says. It's not really an answer, but it's the only one he has. "Do you want me to go?"

Frank doesn't answer, and he goes so still Gerard think he's fallen asleep. He starts to draws his hand away. Then Frank speaks, softly. "No."

Gerard swallows, and goes back to rubbing Frank's back. He seems to drop off soon, and when Gerard looks up, Mikey's standing at the door. He comes in and places the glass on the bedside table, indicates for Gerard to follow him out of the room.

"Gee," Mikey says. "They want me to come in today, there's some problem with the one of the contracts."

Gerard bites his lip, because Mikey just got back last night, he should at least get some time to rest. Also... "I— Do you think I should leave?"

"What did Frank say?" Mikey asks.

Gerard frowns. "He— He's delirious, I can't just—"

"So he asked you to stay?"

Gerard huffs, because that's— It's not exactly like Frank asked him to stay, and he is sick. Gerard doesn't really want to leave him, but—

"Gerard," Mikey says. "He asked you to stay, didn't he?" Mikey sounds pleased, and Gerard quickly shakes his head.

"He just said that he didn't want me to go."

Mikey shrugs. "Same difference."

"It isn't," Gerard insists.

Mikey sighs. "It pretty much is, though. Don't you think he would have told you if he wanted you to leave?"

Gerard shrugs, and Mikey pulls him into a hug. "He didn't ask you to leave. And you're gonna worry yourself sick if you leave, I know you will. So just stay for a little while. It'll be fine." Gerard nods into his shoulder, and pulls back.

"You're the best," he says, and Mikey smiles at him.

"I'll call you later, okay."

Mikey leaves, and Gerard returns to the bedroom, sits down to guard Frank's sleep.

He's been sitting there, and just staring at Frank for a while, when the phone rings. Gerard startles; he's not sure what to do. Should he answer? Frank finally seems to be sleeping, more or less soundly—unless he's passed out or something. Gerard frowns and touches his shoulder and Frank breathes a little deeper for a moment, and slightly moves his head. Gerard really doesn't want to wake him, and he reaches for the phone.

"Uh, hello?" he says, clutching the phone tight.

"Frankie?" a woman asks.

"No, uh, Frank's asleep. This is Gerard."

"Well, hello Gerard," the woman says. "This is Linda, Frank's mom. How's he doing?"

"He's—" Gerard really doesn't want to cause Frank's mother any worry, but he also doesn't want to lie. "He seems pretty out of it, but he's sleeping right now, and hopefully the, uh, cough medicine will help."

Frank's mom hums, and then asks, "So you're a friend of Frank's, huh?" Gerard almost blurts out that he's totally a creep who invited himself over, but Linda continues: "Well, I'm glad there's someone there with him. Poor boy gets sick a lot, but he's so stubborn when it comes to asking for help. But I'm sure you know that." Gerard makes a non-committal noise, and walks over to the bedroom door to check if Frank's still sleeping.

"Yeah," he says. "I'm not really— I don't really know how to help besides giving him medicine and water," he confesses.

"It's probably been a while since he last ate," she says. "How about you make him some soup?" Gerard blinks, and looks back at the kitchen.

Surprisingly, he manages to find most of the ingredients, with Linda instructing him on the phone. He discovers that Frank's out of coffee and tea, and such, but he has a ton of vegetables in his fridge, what the fuck. Gerard remembers Frank telling him he's a vegetarian, but still.

It takes a while, but he ends up with something that seems more or less edible. Frank's mom thanks him for taking care of his son before hanging up, and Gerard swallows heavily.

He pours some soup into a bowl and takes it into the bedroom, sets it down on the beside table. "Hey," he says, and lightly shakes Frank's shoulder. He feels bad about waking him, but. "Hey, Frank, you should eat. Uh. There's soup."

Frank slowly blinks awake, and Gerard helps him sit up, and lean against the wall. Frank lifts his hand to take the spoon, but he completely misses it when he reaches out for it. "Sorry," Gerard says. "But I think we should just— Uh." Frank is really out of it because he doesn't even protest against Gerard feeding him, and Gerard lifts his hand to feel his forehead when they've finished. It doesn't seem too hot.

Frank groans, and Gerard helps him settle back under the covers. He takes the soup bowl back to the kitchen, makes a sandwich for himself, and a couple extra in case Frank wants some later.

He finds Dracula in Frank's bedroom, and sits down to read. He can't really concentrate on the words, but it's better than just sitting there.

Frank startles awake with a cough soon enough, and Gerard moves closer to the bed. He feels just a bit silly, being so alert all the time, but it sounds really fucking bad. He's kind of worried Frank won't stop coughing, will try to get up or something, and actually collapse this time.

As if reading his thoughts, Frank starts throwing off the covers, scrambles to get out of bed. "'M gonna be sick," he wheezes out between the coughs.

He's out of bed and rushing into the bathroom, before Gerard can even react. Gerard can hear it when the coughing turns into retching, and gets up to follow. He lingers on the bathroom door, feeling horrid. "I'm sorry— Was the soup bad?"

Frank shakes his head, still crouched over the toilet. "It wasn't," he says, and reaches out to flush the toilet. Gerard moves to get him some water to rinse his mouth out. Frank gets up, and almost stumbles, but Gerard catches hold of his elbow. He thinks Frank will collect himself and shake it off, but instead he leans in, and lets Gerard help him to the sink, takes the glass from him. Gerard bites his lip again, worried. If Frank's being more pliant, he must be really feeling bad.

Frank doesn't speak again until Gerard is settling him back in bed. It's a bit awkward, but he's already done it before, so.

"It wasn't the soup," Frank says. "It was good, maybe I just had too much of it. Or maybe the cough messed something up." He curls up, gingerly pressing a hand against his belly. Gerard frowns and almost reaches out to run a hand through his hair again, but catches himself in time.

"Frank, if your stomach's bothering you as well..."

Frank sighs and pulls the covers over himself. "I just need to sleep, okay."

"Okay," Gerard says. "Okay, but if you're not better in the morning then you're going to the fucking doctor."

Frank looks at him, incredulous, and Gerard blanches. Fuck, he's totally crossed the line, he's not anyone to Frank, he—

"You're bossy," Frank says, and he sounds surprised, not angry.

Gerard shrugs, and looks down. "When the occasion calls for it."

Frank's eyes are falling shut again, and Gerard gently touches his shoulder.

"Wait, you should take some more medicine. It's been... I don't know, but I think it's been enough since the last time. But you should probably eat something. Uh." Gerard looks towards the kitchen. "A sandwich? I made some earlier."

Frank shrugs. "My throat really hurts—"

"Just a bite," Gerard promises. "Please."

He manages to feed Frank a bit of a sandwich and give him the cough medicine before he drops off again. Gerard takes the remains back to the kitchen and calls Mikey.

"I made soup," he says. "But it probably wasn't very good, though it totally tasted okay." He's feeling slightly manic all of a sudden.

"You're still there?" Mikey asks, and Gerard frowns.

"You told me to stay!"

"Gerard," Mikey says. "It's, like, eleven at night."

"What?" That's the problem with fall, you can never tell what fucking time it is. Gerard glances at the clock in the kitchen and sure enough, it's almost half past eleven. He's been here for hours. "I said if he's not better tomorrow he's going to the hospital," Gerard says, because he needs to say something.

"Huh," Mikey says. "So are you planning to stay the night or what?"

"I don't know," Gerard wails, and then lowers his voice. "It's weird, isn't it? Oh god, I'm such a creep. But, like, what if he wakes up coughing and can't reach the water or, like, starts throwing up again or something?"

"I'm sure he's been sick on his own before," Mikey says.

"But he shouldn't have to be," Gerard says quietly. Gerard's never had to be sick and alone. Mikey's always been there, even coming over from Jersey to stay with Gerard when Mikey was still in high school and Gerard in college here.

Gerard can hear Mikey sighing. "Do you want me to come by and get you something?"

Gerard really fucking loves his brother. "My sketchbook? I probably won't have the focus to work on the sketches I need to do, but still. And maybe... Could you go by the store and get some coffee and tea? I think he's out."

"I'll be there soon," Mikey says. "Don't worry too much, okay."

Gerard rolls his eyes and goes back to the bedroom to— Well, to watch Frank sleep. He hopes he'll feel less creepy when Mikey brings his sketchbook so he can concentrate on that instead.

~

Frank wakes in the middle of the night to cough, as usual, but it passes quickly this time. Gerard's there to get him water and more medicine so Frank reassesses his opinion on what time it is. It can't be that late if Gerard's still there. He falls back asleep fast.

When he wakes up in the morning he feels better, but he's still wary, remembering how things turned out when he woke up fine yesterday.

His stomach seems to have settled, though, and when he takes a deep breath he does end up coughing, but it passes soon enough, and it doesn't seem to hurt as much.

When he uncurls and looks up, he sees Gerard standing at the door. Frank blinks. He's— There's no way Gerard stayed, right? There was no— Why the fuck would he?

Yeah, Gerard was worried so he came over to see how Frank was doing—which on its own already sounded weird—but. He didn't have to stay the night. Did he feel like he had to? What the fuck.

"I," Gerard says, finally breaking the silence. "It was too late. To go home, that is. So. I crashed on your couch, I hope that's okay."

Frank nods dumbly. Yeah, that makes sense. Well, not much really makes sense at the moment, but Frank's head is still swimming a little in general, so.

"I'm gonna— " He starts throwing off the blanket, and Gerard is there in a flash.

"Wait, uh. I'll help."

"It's okay," Frank says. "Really. I can do it myself." He just wants to go to the bathroom, for fuck's sake. Gerard bites his lip and just looks at Frank, but then nods. He doesn't move far, but lets Frank stand on his own and shuffle to the bathroom.

Frank takes his time, finds himself staring into the mirror for a while. Fuck, he looks horrible. He looks half-dead, which is actually sort of cool, but he also looks gross, and he frowns at his reflection.

"I made breakfast," Gerard calls from behind the door and Frank startles. "I wasn't sure if you wanted anything, but I thought... I just threw something together, just in case."

Frank splashes some water on his face, and drags himself out into the kitchen. Gerard's leaning against the counter, but he straightens up when Frank comes in.

"I made some toast," he says, and Frank glances at the counter-top. "And there's some tea, uh, for your throat."

Frank leans against the door frame, his gaze locked on the breakfast waiting for him. His head still feels off, and his breath is rattling in his throat, but in general he thinks he's getting better. He can fix his own breakfast. If he was hungry.

He— It's just so fucking nice of Gerard. He fucking stayed the night. Who the fuck does that? Frank vaguely remembers telling Gerard not to go, but— He didn't expect him to stay till the morning.

"Um," Gerard says. "I'm sorry if I, like. If you rather I hadn't gone through your kitchen. I just—"

Frank shakes his head, and tamps down on the abrupt anger that comes over him. "It's fine," he says, tightly. "You didn't have to, though."

"I know," Gerard says, and Frank bites his lip, hard.

"Well," he says. "Thanks."

There's an awkward silence, and Gerard lifts his hands, flutters them a little. Frank notices that he's made coffee for himself.

"You can go now," Frank says. He doesn't mean to be that curt—well, not really—but he's still exhausted and Gerard's here, being nice, and Frank doesn't understand why, and he feels gross and disgusting. He just wants Gerard to leave so he can curl up in bed again, and sleep until he doesn't feel like death warmed over anymore. And not worry about things he can't make sense of.

"Oh," Gerard says. "Shit, yeah. Of course. I'll get out of your way. Uh, sorry."

Frank shakes his head again. "You don't need to apologize, okay."

"Right," Gerard says, awkwardly. Frank sighs.

Gerard pushes himself away from the counter and comes to stand in front of Frank. It takes a second for Frank to realize he's blocking the door, mostly, so he steps back, and stumbles a bit; thrown off balance after leaning on one foot for so long.

Gerard reaches out a hand, quick, to steady him, and frowns. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Frank bites out.

Gerard pulls his hand back, flutters it helplessly in the air.

"Listen," he says. "Can I at least get our number or something to check up on you?" There's an expression on his face that Frank can't decipher.

"Whatever," he says, and quickly rattles off the digits.

"Wait, wait," Gerard yelps. "Uh. Hold on." He goes to the couch and picks up one of the sketchbooks Frank's seen him with in the shop. There's a blanket thrown over the couch, and Frank is again hit with the realization that Gerard slept there.

"I think I spilled tea on that couch earlier," he says, remembering.

"Oh." Gerard looks at the couch as well. "It'd probably dried by then. Uh. It's a nice couch." He waves the notebook and pen at Frank.

Frank repeats the number, and Gerard jots it down, then looks up to give Frank a smile. Frank swallows as he meets Gerard's eyes.

Gerard's just being nice, and Frank knows he should just accept it, and certainly not read into it, but he can't shake the feeling that for some reason Gerard feels obligated to do this. They don't even know each other that well, for fuck's sake. Another thought occurs to him, then, and he blurts out, "How did you even know where I lived?"

"Oh," Gerard says. "Uh, one of your coworkers told me. I think her name was Alicia? Unless her name tag lied. Sometimes they do that, I mean, it's not like you're obligated to put your real name on that, right—"

Gerard goes on, rambling about names, and the power they hold, and Frank tries to breathe through the sinking feeling in his gut. Alicia, of course. Frank wouldn't peg her for the type to play match-maker or anything, but obviously she had some hand in this. She can be persistent, Frank's not surprised that Gerard felt compelled to come over. He sighs, runs a hand over his face, and tells himself he doesn't feel disappointed.

"Frank?" Gerard ask. "Are you sure you're okay? I could stay if you ne—"

Christ. "No," he says, quickly. "It's fine, you can go."

He nods curtly, and Gerard's face falls. Gerard gathers his jacket from the end of the couch, throws it on.

"Well," Gerard says, stopping by the door. "I really hope you'll get well soon."

"Thanks," Frank says, quietly. Gerard nods, and reaches out a hand, briefly touches Frank's shoulder. Frank doesn't react, and Gerard finally turns to go. Frank squeezes his eyes shut, for just a second.

He closes the door behind Gerard, and turns to go back to bed. He steps into the kitchen instead, because there's really no point in letting warm tea go to waste. He takes a few sips, and the heat makes him start coughing again, but it doesn't hurt as much as yesterday, and it passes soon. The cough medicine must be working. The one Gerard's brother went out to buy, fuck.

Frank goes back to the bedroom, takes a few swallows of NyQuil, and curls up on the bed. It takes him a while to fall asleep.

~

Gerard is infinitely relieved when he walks into the coffee shop to find Frank behind the counter. Sure, he'd texted Frank a few times, to know how he was doing, and gotten... Well, pretty short responses, which in turn made him feel guilty about the texts, because what if he was bothering Frank while he was still sick, but. Frank was back, which meant he had to be feeling all better now.

Gerard frowns as he takes a closer look at Frank, who's busy with a customer. He still looks pretty under the weather. Surely Frank hadn't come in if— What's Gerard thinking, it's Frank. The fact that he assumes that is maybe kind of presumptuous of Gerard, but you don't have to know Frank for long to know he's stubborn. But he— Gerard doesn't really know him, except— Fuck.

He shakes his head, and conjures up a smile for Frank when he steps up to the counter. "Hey."

"Latte?" Frank asks, and Gerard frowns.

"Uh, yeah." Frank nods, and reaches his hand out for Gerard's money. Gerard hands it over, a little flustered. "How are you?"

"Fine," Frank says. Gerard is about to ask him if he's sure, but Frank adds, "You're holding up the line."

Gerard glances behind him, and quickly moves over to wait for his coffee. Frank doesn't look at him again.

He still stops by to bring Gerard a new cup later, though, and Gerard looks up, hoping he'll finally be able to have a decent conversation with him. But Frank doesn't meet his eyes and Gerard moves without thinking, reaching out a hand to touch his elbow. Frank startles a little, and almost drops the cup.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Gerard says. "I just—"

Frank looks at him then, and Gerard realizes he's still holding onto Frank's elbow. He pulls his hand away, flexes the fingers.

"I just. You're all better now?"

"All better," Frank repeats, lightly. "You don't have to—" He doesn't finish his sentence, looks down instead. "I'm fine," he says, finally, and gives Gerard a smile that doesn't really reach his eyes.

"Listen," Gerard says, and Frank's expression closes down even more. "I just wanted to say... Me coming over like that—" He wants to tell Frank that he didn't mean to just barge into his home like that, but he was— He was worried, and he was glad Frank, like, let him stay and help, even though it was clear Frank didn't really appreciate him staying the night. He wants to apologize.

"No, it's fine," Frank interrupts him, and then looks over at the counter, where a line has formed. One of the other baristas is taking orders, but she could clearly use a hand. "I have to go. But uh, don't worry about it."

He dashes off, and Gerard frowns to himself, because he didn't even get a chance to explain. It feels weird for Frank to just wave it off like that. Frank doesn't stop by again that, day, though, so Gerard tries to focus on his work and ignore the hollow feeling in his belly.

~

For the next few days, Frank doesn't truly avoid him, but he doesn't go out of his way to talk to Gerard either, like he used to, and things are just— Awkward. Gerard's texted him a couple of times, about random stuff, hoping Frank would respond better to comments about the DC reboot than Gerard asking him whether he was okay for, like, the thousandth time. Frank hasn't replied, though.

He still looks tired, too, and Gerard considers drawing a brave little toaster Frank, but he's not sure how Frank would react to that, anymore.

"Maybe I should start going to another coffee shop," he tells Mikey after another day of Frank being weirdly polite with him, and distant. He hasn't made any progress on his panels either.

Mikey's pointed silence is the only answer he gets. Gerard squeezes the phone tighter, and rubs at the bridge of his nose.

"Maybe I'm making him uncomfortable! Maybe he wants me to stop coming."

Mikey sighs. "Just talk to him."

"I've tried," Gerard says, but that's not true, he's pulled back every time they've talked and Frank has gone weirdly tense. He's just... He's afraid to push him.

"Try again," Mikey says.

"But what if—" He doesn't even know how to finish the sentence, but he the dread he feels when he even thinks about it... What if Frank never wants to see him again? What if he accuses him of being the total creep that he is? What if... Well, those two are probably the worst options right now. He still doesn't want to consider them.

"Gerard," Mikey interrupts him. "Just go and talk to him, okay. It'll be fine."

"You can't promise that," Gerard says, quietly.

"Sure I can," Mikey says. Gerard squeezes his eyes shut.

"Mikey," he says, and swallows tightly. "I really like him."

"I know," Mikey says, his voice softening. "It'll be okay."

Gerard sighs, and runs a hand over his face. "Yeah. Okay."

They stay on the phone for a while longer; apparently Mikey's thinking about asking out Alicia from the coffee shop. Gerard would call it ironic, except it isn't, and he remembers the way Mikey smiled at her, so.

After he's hung up, he buries his face in his hands for a moment, and wills himself to go and talk to Frank tomorrow.

~

Frank's been doing an excellent job, avoiding having an actual conversation with Gerard—even though he fucking misses really, properly talking to him—but he didn't count on Gerard strolling up to the counter and saying, "We need to talk. Oh, and the usual." Frank rings up his order, and takes a deep breath.

"I'm kinda busy right now," he says, and pointedly looks at the customer standing behind Gerard. Gerard moves out of the way, but doesn't leave. He waits while Frank takes orders from three customers; he hasn't even made a move for his latte yet. Now that's just odd.

"Your coffee's getting cold," Frank says, when he gets a break between customers and Gerard steps forward again, his hands twitching, like he's not quite sure what to do with them.

"What?" Gerard asks, confused. His eyes widen, then, and he curses. Frank looks on fondly as he hurries to grab his coffee cup and takes a sip, makes a face. Fuck. Frank shakes his head. There are no customers waiting for him, and Gerard's heading back, and Frank would— He gets that Gerard was, like, worried or whatever, and Frank was such a shit to him that morning, but Gerard doesn't fucking owe him anything.

"Seriously, can we talk?" Gerard says, and his voice is softer now, a hint of nervousness in it. "You've been kind of avoiding me."

Frank thinks about the messages Gerard has sent, the ones he forced himself not to reply to. Gerard didn't have to— whatever.

"I've just been busy. I think I'm getting a new band together." It's not a lie, exactly. He's heard from some people, who seemed to be interested in at least jamming together at some point, so.

"Oh," Gerard says. "That's great." Frank nods, but Gerard goes on. "You've still— It. You don't even look at me on some days," he bursts out, and Frank looks up at him, slightly taken aback, then flushes.

"I—" He doesn't know what to say, but thank fuck, a customer clears their throat right behind Gerard.

"Frank," Gerard says, and Frank looks down, squeezes his hands into fists.

"Fuck, okay. I have a break coming up soon, we can talk then." He looks up just in time to see Gerard smile, that big one, the one that scrunches up his eyes. Frank's chest feels tight.

Gerard finally moves over to his table, and Frank turns towards the customer, gives them an apologetic smile.

He's on autopilot while he's behind the counter, as it gets closer to his break. He can't seem to shut his brain off, and he's kind of dreading the conversation. He seriously needs to get over himself. Whatever. There's no point in fighting it anymore, let Gerard explain how he only came over because Alicia told him to, and how it didn't mean anything. Frank knows it didn't mean anything. Gerard won't be telling him anything new.

He goes over to Gerard's table when his break starts, inclines his head toward the door leading outside. Gerard's eyes widen. "But it's freezing outside."

Frank rolls his eyes. "There are other people in the break room, do you want them to be our audience?"

"No there aren't," Alicia says behind him, and Frank jumps. When he turns around Alicia is staring at him, her eyebrows raised in a challenge. Frank glares at her. "What? It's totally empty right now."

"Awesome," Gerard says, and Frank looks over to see him beaming at Alicia, what the fuck. He sets his jaw, and stalks off into the break room, not waiting for Gerard to follow.

He feels bad about it as soon as he gets there, fuck, Gerard's been so nice, and Frank's just being a total asshole. He's just so annoyed with himself for ignoring Gerard in the hopes that if they never talked about it they can pretend that Gerard never showed up at Frank's door when he was sick and gross, and looked after him out of some weird feeling of obligation.

He's sick of hoping that that's not the case, and pretending that he didn't screw up any chance of ever asking Gerard out by coughing all over him, and being sick and a pain in the ass Gerard had to take care of, ugh.

Frank turns to face Gerard when he hears him come in, folds his hands over his chest.

Fuck. He needs to just get over himself and thank Gerard, and then let Gerard tell him he hopes they can still be friends and hopefully Frank didn't take it the wrong way, whatever the fuck. He opens his mouth, and it all spills out.

"Look, I just— Fuck, it was really nice of you to come over, right, and you— Seriously, that was just. Really fucking sweet of you, and I. Like... Ugh."

Frank pauses, and takes a deep breath. Gerard looks really confused, so he tries to cut to the chase.

"What I mean is— Thank you. And you don't have to worry about, like— I know you probably just came over because Alicia told you, or something, so you don't have to worry about, like, letting me down or anything." He kicks at the floor with his toe. Fuck it, he's just going to say it. "I mean, it fucking sucks, you know. I really like you, and— But you shouldn't have to— I totally get if you're not interested—"

Gerard leans forward and kisses him. Frank freezes in shock.

He hears himself make a quiet meep sound, and Gerard pulls back before he gets a chance to start kissing him back, looking horrified.

"Shit, I didn't mean to interrupt you. I mean, I did, but that's a really shitty way to interrupt someone. Uh. Go on?"

"Uh," Frank says. "I—"

"Oh, fuck, now I interrupted your train of thought. I'm so sorry." Gerard sounds, like, really sorry.

"Um," Frank says. "You kissed me."

"Yes," Gerard says, nodding. "I— I'm not sorry about doing that, but I am sorry about interrupting you, seriously."

"Why?" Frank croaks, and hastens to add before Gerard goes off on some tangent about respecting people, which Frank seriously appreciates him for, but. "Why did you kiss me?"

"Oh. You said I wasn't interested. Or, like, if I wasn't interested, because. Wait." Gerard frowns. "You. The drawings and the coffee, and such. I mean. I thought... You like me?"

"That— Yeah," Frank says, weakly. "That's what I said." He has no idea where this conversation is going anymore.

Gerard beams at him. "I like you, too! What, you know, with the drawings. And the soup, like. I've never made soup for anyone before. Why would you think I didn't like you?"

"I— I thought Alicia sent you," Frank says. Gerard frowns. "You said she told you where I lived. And, oh fuck, the soup, I'm pretty sure I almost threw up on you. And I was all gross, and you had to take care of me and shit, and I get sick a lot, so—"

Gerard puts his hand up this time, instead of kissing him. Frank is vaguely disappointed.

"Alicia gave me your address because I asked her to. Well, she wouldn't give it to me, but then Mikey, like, he does that thing with whenever he wants something, I don't think he has any idea— Anyway. I didn't have to take care of you. I just—" Gerard shrugs. "I wanted to. I— I wasn't sure at first if you were okay with me being there, but I didn't mind doing it. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Alicia didn't put you up to this?" Frank asks, wanting to be absolutely certain of it. "Because— Fuck, like, she knows I like you, and you said she was the one to— And I thought she hassled you into it, because—"

"Because why?" Gerard asks, and tilts his head, staring intensely at Frank.

"Because why— Why would you—"

Gerard steps closer to Frank and bites his lip. "I like you," he says. "Like, I really fucking like you, and I'm glad I could help you feel just a bit better, and I really want to kiss you right now." He looks nervous and so earnest. Frank can't help it, he starts giggling just out of sheer relief. This is so not the way he thought this conversation would go, but he still— Fuck. Gerard smiles back at him, uncertain, and Frank pulls him in for a kiss.

Gerard makes a happy noise, and wraps his arms around Frank's waist. His fingers dig into Frank's sides, and Frank presses himself closer, tugging at Gerard's hair. Gerard groans, and it's like Frank feels it all the way down to his toes. He wants to push Gerard against the wall, and go on his knees right there, but they're in— The door bangs open, and Gerard pulls back abruptly. Frank almost loses his balance, but Gerard's hands are still on his waist.

"Uh," Gerard says, and Frank peers around him to see who it is. Alicia's standing there with her hands on her hips. She has a self-satisfied air about her, Frank can totally tell.

"Your break ended five minutes ago," she says. "We're not really busy right now, but I just thought I'd let you know."

Frank narrows his eyes at her. He still feels like he's totally justified in assuming Alicia had set the whole thing up. Then again, it's not really her style. "Thanks."

She nods at him, and gives him a genuine smile, before closing the door.

"Uh," Gerard says again. He still hasn't let go of Frank, and his face is burning. It's adorable. Frank beams at him.

"Fuck," he says. "Dude, this is perfect timing." Gerard raises an eyebrow at him. "It's my birthday this weekend."

"Right, Halloween," Gerard says, excitedly. "Oh, fuck, why didn't I think of that sooner? I don't know if I have time to make you anything.

Frank giggles. "It's fine, dude. As long as you're gonna come—"

Gerard leans forward and kisses him again, quick. "Of course," he says. "And I might— Yeah, if I start tonight then—"

Frank rolls his eyes. "You seriously don't have to get me anything."

Gerard doesn't seem to be listening, though; he's staring past Frank with a contemplative look on his face, and he crosses his arms, lifting a hand to his lip.

"Gerard," Frank says, and Gerard snaps back to him, smiles sheepishly. "Do you really want to go right now just to work on my birthday present?"

"Well," Gerard says. "You're gonna be working anyway..."

"Oh my god," Frank says, and throws his head back as he laughs. "Fuck you, go on then. I'll— I'll text you later?"

"Call me," Gerard says, smiling. "Uh, I might not hear a text. When do you get off work?"

"Around eight," Frank says. "Do you want to meet up later?"

"Or I could just show up at your door," Gerard says, and shrugs.

Frank pushes at his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. Well, it worked out well last time, so maybe you should."

Gerard grins at him, and turns to go. Frank catches his hand, squeezes it and leans up for one more kiss.

Alicia gives him a look when he gets back to the counter. "Your boy ran off awfully fast."

Frank grins. "He went to make me something for my birthday." Alicia nods appreciatively. "You know," Frank goes on. "I thought he only came over because you told him to. Like you put him up to it, or something." He shoots her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry I assumed you'd, like—"

She shakes her head at him, but there's an amused expression on her face. "Believe it or not, I'm not actually that interested in your love life." Frank blushes and covers his face with his hands.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well," she says. "Invite his brother to your birthday and make it up to me." Frank raises his head and grins at her. She makes a face in response, and Frank laughs.

He gets a text from Gerard about twenty minutes before he's done with his shift.

gonna be a little late, fake blood is hard to clean

Frank beams down at the phone. txt me your address, i'm coming over

Fair's fair, after all.