Work Text:
The parking lot is empty except for them, the ice cream parlor’s big fluorescent sign buzzing above them. The air feels a bit muggy, spring turning to summer.
Ray’s sitting on the hood of the van, a crumpled napkin in one hand and a half-melted smear of chocolate on his thumb. Gerard’s sitting beside him, cross-legged on the metal, the remains of their ice cream dripping down the side of the cup.
“Worth ditching the guys for?” Ray asks, licking the chocolate from his finger.
Gerard hums, licking their own spoon clean. “Definitely. I’d take this over trying to wrangle drunk Frank any night.”
Ray laughs, the sound low and easy. Most things are with Gerard. He tosses his empty cup toward the trash can, missing completely. He makes a small, dramatic sound of despair. “Tragic,” he sighs. “Gone too soon.”
Ray shakes his head, grinning despite himself, and looks over at them.
Their hair is really tangled in the back, likely from whipping their head around all night. The humidity has made the shorter pieces curl slightly around their ears. The black liner under their eyes has softened into gray shadows, making them look much softer than they do on stage.
Ray likes them like this. The calmer, giggly Gerard, who doesn’t need to square their shoulders or put on a deeper voice.
It’s the version of Gerard he usually ends up seeing after shows, when the adrenaline fades and they’re sitting somewhere quiet together. Sometimes in the van, sometimes on a curb behind the venue, once on the floor of someone’s kitchen at three in the morning. Once, on that same kitchen floor, Gerard had leaned over and kissed him. Ray had kissed them back without thinking. They’d both been a little drunk, but definitely not drunk enough to forget it the next morning. They still didn’t talk about, nor did they talk about any of the kisses that followed.
“…What?” Gerard asks, glancing sideways at him.
Ray realizes he’s been staring and looks away. “Nothing.”
“You were so staring.”
“No I wasn’t,” Ray protests weakly.
Gerard turns a little on the hood so they’re facing him more fully, one knee bumping his thigh. “I notice you do that a lot. Stare, I mean. I don’t mind.” They fiddle with a loose string along the seam of Ray’s jeans. “Can I ask why, though?”
Ray shrugs, nudging their sneaker with his. “I just like to look at you.” Ray feels slightly embarrassed by his wording, but Gerard has said much weirder to him. “Especially when, y’know- when you’re like this.”
Gerard tilts their head. “Like what?”
Ray gestures vaguely at them. “Just you. Not, like, your stage persona. I love to watch you perform, but…I love to watch this you more.”
Gerard goes very still.
The loose thread slips from their fingers.
For a second they just look at Ray, and Ray gets a little distracted by how big and round their eyes are.
Gerard glances down at their hands, tracing the stitching of Ray’s jeans. They’re both quiet for a long while.
Ray nudges their sneaker again with his. “I’m serious.”
“I don’t know,” they mumble. “This me’s kinda… boring.”
“You are the least boring person I know.” Ray tsks.
Gerard huffs. “Like you know so many people."
“Whatever, asshole.” Ray laughs and shakes his head.
Gerard keeps their head down, but Ray can see a little smile. He presses his knee into theirs.
“I’m serious, though,” he says. “You’re so crazy during a show and it’s great, but outside of that you just seem a lot more comfortable. Easier, I guess. And you stop doing the voice.”
“The voice?” Gerard looks up at him, brow raised
Ray lowers his own voice into a rougher, exaggerated version. “Yeah man, whatever.”
“Oh my god, yeah right.” They roll their eyes and shove at Ray's shoulder. He doesn’t harp on it though, he has a feeling the fake voice has a deeper reason to it than just wanting to seem cooler. They can talk about it another time.
“I don’t mind too much. I like having this version of you to myself,” He pauses, thinks for a second, “a-and the guys. You know, we have this version of you… yeah.” He clears his throat and resists the urge to smack himself upside the head. Gerard just hums. Their fingers return to the seam of Ray’s jeans, slowly tracing the stitching again. The loose thread is long gone, but they keep worrying at the fabric anyway. Ray watches them do it, maybe he should worry about them messing up his jeans.
He’s noticed Gerard is very fidgety, especially when they’re nervous. Thread, sleeves, bottle caps, guitar picks.
Once, after one of those not-quite-acknowledged kisses behind a venue, Gerard had spent a solid ten minutes shredding the cardboard edge of a cigarette pack while talking about absolutely nothing.
The last time they kissed, it was about 2 weeks ago in a shitty motel room somewhere in Illinois and they did a lot more than kissing. He didn’t even get to use his normal excuse to himself that they were drunk, or riding the adrenaline after a show. They’d both been stone cold sober and had the weekend off.
Ray wasn’t sure if he was gay, but that night had been a million times better than anything he’d ever done with his past girlfriends.
Ray finds himself watching Gerard’s hands again. The slow movement of their fingers over the seam of his jeans, the way their nails catch on the thread for a second before sliding off again.
They’re concentrating on it in that half-absent way they do, shoulders slightly hunched, head tilted down. Their hair falls forward a little when they do that, the shorter pieces curling near their cheeks. Ray finds his brain drifting off, snagging on the memory of those same fingers a couple weeks ago, curled loosely in the fabric of his shirt before slipping higher, brushing along his jaw and up into his curls.
The ice cream cup in Gerard’s other hand has started to drip steadily down the cardboard now. A pale streak runs along their knuckles where something melted earlier and dried sticky. Before he can catch himself, he thinks I wanna put their fingers in my mouth.
The thought hits Ray so suddenly he almost laughs. He drags a hand over the back of his neck instead, staring out across the empty parking lot like it’s suddenly very interesting. The movement makes Gerard glance up.
“You good?”
Ray blinks like he’s been caught doing something illegal. “Yeah,” he says quickly. He tries very hard to not focus on the heat in his face that seems to be quickly traveling somewhere else.
“Uh huh,” Gerard squints at him for a second, but seemingly decided to let Ray get away with this one. They toss their cup into the garbage can, not missing, and look out at the parking lot for moment, face scrunched just enough to notice.
“Sorry if I’ve made stuff weird or anything, since, yknow…” The part of Gerard’s face illuminated by the parlors sign looks flushed and they suddenly want to look anywhere but Ray's face.
Ray frowns a little.
Gerard shrugs one shoulder, but the movement looks stiff. They start picking at their fingers instead of Rays jeans, and it makes him realize they’ve scooted away just slightly at some point.
“Like, the kissing stuff is whatever. Everybody does it, you’ve seen me kiss Frank onstage, y'know. But- but I let it go too far. I think maybe I have, like, a thing for straight guys,” they laugh at that, wet and thin.
Ray stares at them. For a second he doesn’t say anything, like his brain has just short-circuited.
Gerard’s looking out at the parking lot as they ramble on, but their shoulders have pulled in tight like they’re bracing for impact.
“Gee,” he says, he grabs their hands, stopping them before they pick at them too bad.
Gerard winces a little at the tone. “No, really. It’s fine. I mean, I get it. Tour’s weird. People get bored, or desperate when they can’t pick up any chicks. I’ve been with plenty of guys who are straight and I just… I just get too into it. Try to make it something it’s not, y'know. I don’t wanna do that with us.”
Ray is genuinely speechless for the first time in his life. He racks his brain, putting the pieces together about some of the jerks Gerard hangs around sometimes. Gerard keeps talking, face mostly hidden by their hair as they stare down at their lap.
“I really should’ve stopped it before we got that far, I’m sorry.” Their voice grows wobbly, and Ray knows that if he could see their face they’d be crying. “I wanna go back to normal. Just- just forget about it, ok?” Ray feels something in his chest twist hard.
Ray squeezes their hands gently. “Gerard.” They still won’t look at him.
“I’m sorry,” Gerard says again, softer this time. “I shouldn’t have-”
“Stop. Do you really think I only slept with you ‘cause I couldn’t find a girl to hook up with?”
“Cmon, Ray. I know how I look, I’m the next best thing for a lot of people.”
“No, Gerard.” Ray nudges their knee with his again, gentler this time. “Look at me.”
They hesitate. Then, slowly, Gerard lifts their head.
Their eyeliner runs down their cheeks a little, and Ray can see the shine of tears they’re trying very hard not to let fall. Their cheeks and nose have turned a splotchy red. Ray’s chest aches.
“Do you really think that’s what this was?” he asks finally.
Gerard swallows. “Ray…”
“No, seriously.” Ray nudges their knee with his again, the same small grounding motion he’s been doing all night. “You think I slept with you because I couldn’t find a girl?”
Gerard doesn’t answer.
“Gee, I don’t give a shit if I get laid on tour or not. If I wasn’t into it, I would’ve stopped you the first time and that’d be it. I really, really like you, man. Like, like-like you.” He groans and rubs his forehead with his free hand. “Jesus, I sound like I’m in middle school.” Gerard laughs, finally, and Ray knows he’s doing something right.
“‘Like-like,’ huh?” Gerard says, wiping under one eye with the sleeve of their hoodie.
Ray groans. “Don’t make fun of me, man. I’m trying here.”
“I’m not making fun of you,” Gerard says quickly, though their mouth is still twitching. “Just- are you sure? I mean, my head is so fucked up sometimes and you’ve seen how I get-“
Ray shakes his head immediately. “Hey, no, c’mon. I haven’t cared this far, why would I care now? I like you when you’re drunk and stupid and I like you when you’re sad and you get mean. I like you when you’re screaming on stage and I like you when you’re screaming in a recording booth. I like you. Please, let me.”
Gerard’s eyes water up again, but they wipe them away quickly. “Ok.”
Ray exhales, a weight lifting off his chest, and gently squeezes Gerard’s hands again. “Ok?” he repeats softly, voice almost a whisper, like he’s checking to make sure he heard right.
“Ok,” Gerard says again, this time a little firmer, they smile a little. They glance down at their hands tangled with his and then up at his face, a small, uncertain giggle breaking through. Ray suddenly feels so giddy he can’t help but laugh, too.
He lets go of their hands to hold their face, caressing a smudged bit of eyeliner on their cheekbone. The giggle bubbles up again, no longer uncertain, they wrap their fingers around Ray's wrist softly.
“Can I kiss you?” Ray asks, realizing neither of them had ever done that before. Gerard looks like they want to roll their eyes, but a big grin spreads across their face instead. They give him a small nod.
Ray leans in slowly, just enough to close the gap, feeling the warmth of Gerard’s breath brush against his lips. Gerard tilts their head slightly, letting him set the pace, their hands tightening gently on his wrists. The first contact is feather-light, almost shy, their lips barely brushing.
Gerard deepens it, they always do, and sighs into Ray's mouth. Their mouths move together like they’ve been practicing in secret for weeks, brushing, pressing, exploring. Gerard hums softly into the kiss, and Ray can feel it vibrating against him, a tiny tremor that makes his chest ache with want. He leans closer, pressing their bodies together on the cool hood of the van, and Gerard leans back willingly, tilting their face up to him, lips parting more, inviting him deeper. One of Ray's hands move down, slipping under their hoodie to caress the soft skin of Gerard’s waist.
Gerard nips his lip, Ray pulls back, a low laugh escaping him, more surprised than hurt. Gerard’s eyes dart up, mischievous and wide, a flush blooming across their cheeks, and the tiniest smirk tugging at the corner of their mouth.
“You fucker,” Ray mutters, though his voice is rough and fond, a grin creeping onto his face. His hands tighten slightly on Gerard’s waist, anchoring them gently, and he leans in again, brushing their lips with his own in a teasing, soft press.
Gerard giggles into the kiss, playful and breathless, and Ray can’t help but match their energy, letting his fingers thread into the curls at the nape of their neck. The nibble had been bold, but now Gerard melts against him, lips soft, teeth grazing just enough to make Ray shiver.
The way they’re laid back against the hood isn’t the most comfortable, but their chests are pressed so close that Ray is sure they can feel each other's heart beats.
Ray tilts his head slightly, letting his lips brush along Gerard’s jawline, kissing the curve down toward the hollow of their neck. He explores until Gerard sighs and he knows he found the sweet spot on their neck. He sucks, Gerard letting out a quiet moan. He-
…jolts up as the shrill ringtone cuts through the warm buzz of the parking lot, making them both yelp in surprise. Gerard fumbles for their phone, glossy black against the dim light, and Ray watches their flushed cheeks deepen even more.
“Hello? …why?…what the fuck, are you serious?” Gerard sighs deeply, rubbing their hand over their face. “Fuck, ok. We’ll be there in a sec, love you. Bye.” Gerard hangs up, groaning and dropping their head in their hands.
“What’s up?” he asks quietly, raising an eyebrow.
“Frank got into a fight. Mikey says he lost bad. Like, he needs to go to the E.R. bad.” Gerard pauses, looks around. “Jesus, we just did all that in public. Do you know how many people probably saw us?” A deep flush fills Gerard’s face.
Ray laughs, too high on Gerard to care at the moment. “It’s fine, we’re the only ones here.” He slides off the hood, motioning for Gerard to follow. “C’mon, I wanna see how bad Frank got his face busted.” Gerard’s worry fades quickly, following him.
They hop in the van, Ray driving and Gerard in the passenger side. They pull out of the parking lot, holding hands over the center console.