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Gerard's sleeping patterns had completely reversed on tour, so he mostly slept from dawn until around three in the afternoon. So that meant that at four in the morning, he was awake on the couch in the lounge, sketching lizards in his notebook while he waited for the coffee to finish brewing, when he suddenly felt something really fucking weird happen.

It - wasn't something he could describe. Gerard sat there on the couch, blinking, trying to figure out what, exactly, had just happened. It felt kind of like an all-over, skin-crawling, someone-walked-over-your-grave sensation, but…more. Like. Weirder. More intense. Like it had happened inside and out and all over and just so fucking odd, he couldn't quite pin it down.

He took a deep breath and got up, trying to shake it off. He felt fine, now. He felt normal. Not sick, or drugged, or anything like that. He shrugged, peering around the dark lounge for a second, then finally just went to get more coffee. Coffee helped pretty much any situation.

When he walked across the lounge, though, he felt…funny. Like, really, really odd. Like. Off balance? Or like something was missing? Or like – hmm. He looked down at himself, blinking. Hang on. He tugged on his t-shirt, because, oh weird, oh weird. "Those are breasts," he said, staring down at himself. "I - wait. Those are - wait." And then he was tugging at his pajama pants, half-scared, half-intrigued.

He let the waist of his pants fall back into place with a snap. "Oh." He looked around the lounge again, like someone was going to step in and explain things. "I'm a girl," he said softly when nobody did. Then he went to wake up Mikey.


Mikey, his face pressed into the pillow, opened one eye when Gerard pulled his curtain back and looked in at him anxiously. "Mikey," Gerard said. "I'm - something weird happened." He crawled into Mikey's bunk.

"What?" Mikey yawned hugely, then froze in place, shifting a little on the bunk.

"…uh-oh," Gerard said, staring at Mikey in the dark. "Don’t freak out."

"You remember," Mikey said, blinking at Gerard, "How we talked about when you say 'don't freak out,' it pretty much guarantees that there's something to freak out about?"

"Yes." Gerard nodded, biting his lip. "But - okay, maybe it's okay for you to freak out."

Mikey looked down at himself, letting one hand run over his chest, and then further down under the covers. "Oh, weird," he breathed.

"I know, right?" Gerard said, leaning in, excited. "Mikey, how fucked up is this?"

"Oh," Mikey said, staring at Gerard's face. "It's both of us. It's you, too. You look - different." He paused. "Well, a little different."

Gerard grinned. "I know, I saw, I don't look that different in the face."

"You kind of looked like a girl before," Mikey said.

Gerard nodded a little, still staring. "Yeah, but you look like a girl now." He reached out, pressing one hand against Mikey's cheek. "It's so weird. It's still you, I mean, I know it's you, I can tell it's you, but you look…different." Mikey did; he looked like Mikey, still - it wasn't like Mikey was the butchest of guys - but the change made his whole face different. Softer, maybe, shaped differently? Gerard couldn't quite pinpoint it. His fingers twitched a little with wanting to draw him; he thought if he could put a pencil to paper, he'd be able to tell exactly what had shifted. But Mikey's eyes were the same, and that's why Gerard was able to breathe out softly with relief. So long as he could see Mikey in his eyes, he was good. They were okay.

Mikey pushed himself up on one elbow. "Gerard," he said slowly. "This is weird, right? Like, more than usual weird."

"Yeah," said Gerard. "Yeah, it really fucking is, isn't it?"

"What do we – I mean," Mikey paused, running one hand through his hair. "What do we do? What do we tell the guys?"

Gerard thought for a second. "Well. I mean. I don't know. It might just be a you and me thing, or maybe – I mean, what if it's –"

"Oh fuck," they heard suddenly, loudly, from the direction of Ray's bunk. "Oh fuck."

Gerard and Mikey looked at each other solemnly. "It's not just a you and me thing," Gerard said, and they both scrambled out of the bunk.


Everyone had pretty much calmed down by morning. For certain values of "calmed down." Ray was maybe still quietly hyperventilating in the corner, but then, okay, Ray maybe had more investment in his cock and less curiosity about gender boundaries than the rest of them.

Bob looked a little confused, still, and a little bit tired, but he'd been through a lot of stuff with them and he seemed willing to sort of just see how it played out. (It was really weird that he didn't have a beard. Bob! Without a beard. He looked like his own little sister or something.)

Frank, when they had woken him up – and they'd had to actually shake him awake, he'd snored all the way through Ray's panic attack at his abrupt change of gender – had looked up at them blearily from where he was planted face-first in his pillow. He'd shoved one hand between his legs, gone, "Huh, okay, that's weird, all right," and then fallen right the fuck back to sleep.

Gerard admired Frank's equilibrium. Also his dedication to sleep.

They'd all had a few hours to get used to it, and even Frank had dragged himself into the lounge area of the bunk a few minutes earlier. He looked weirdly like himself, his hair all over the place, his cheek still showing the marks of where it had been pressed against the pillow. He was wearing the same t-shirt and boxers he'd slept in, loose and worn, and if it wasn't for the fact that his breasts were pushing forward against the thin material of the t-shirt, his nipples hard and obvious, you'd barely know the difference.

Frank had a kind of girly face all along, too, Gerard thought. It was something about pretty guys that made the change more subtle.

"Coffee?" Frank asked sleepily when he dragged his way into the lounge. "I've already jerked off – or, I don't know, stroked off, whatever – three times, you guys. This is kind of awesome."

"What?" Frank said, curling up in the corner of the couch as they all gave him various looks. He looked both tired and satisfied. "You guys haven't?"

"Well," Gerard looked around at the room. Bob and Ray were avoiding eye contact. "Not yet."

Frank nodded. "You gotta try it," he said. "It's awesome."

The coffee was nearly done and Gerard started pouring himself a cup when Mikey came out of the back, having taken a shower and gotten cleaned up. "Jesus Christ," Gerard said, staring until he over-filled his mug and burned his hand. He jerked his hand away, shoving his burned fingers into his mouth. "Mikey."

Mikey looked around. "What." He was dressed just as usual – low-slung skinny jeans, his hair carefully coiffed. And a t-shirt that had been too tight back when he hadn't been a girl and which was now –"Mikey," Gerard said, uneasily. "I'm not sure that's appropriate."

There was a long, low whistle from Frank's corner of the couch. "I think it's appropriate," Frank said, his tone admiring. "Man. Mikeyway, you're stacked."

Mikey's mouth flickered a little bit. "I know. Hey, coffee." He took the mug out of Gerard's hand and wandered over to sit down on the floor in front of the couch.

Where had Mikey even gotten a bra, Gerard couldn't help but wonder jealously. His own breasts were more along the lines of the unwieldy and uncomfortable end of the spectrum. He'd settled on zipping his hoodie up over his t-shirt and doing his best to ignore them, even as they shifted alarmingly every time he moved. "Anyway," he said, continuing on from where they'd left off. "Brian said he'd call us later, after he does a little bit of research." Brian had sounded more tired than anything else, actually, like finding his band had all turned into girls overnight was just another thing they did specifically to make his life harder than it already was.

Ray looked up, concerned. "Research," he said slowly, "isn't going to help us very quickly. We have a show tonight, you guys. We can't play like this. I can't play like this."

Ray did not make a very good-looking woman. The proportions were off. His hair was crazy as ever, and yes, okay, his million-mile-long legs might work if he played it right, but he was too tense, too awkward, to look anything but weird and freaked out. He was totally not seeing the cool parts of this situation. And he had kept his arms crossed firmly over his chest for the entire time he'd been out of his bunk, so Gerard couldn't even tell what his tits might be like.

"Brian will figure something out," Bob said from his corner. Bob, weirdly, did make a good-looking woman. He was curvy and – well, possibly built, but with his layer of shirts and hoodie, it was kind of impossible to tell. He seemed less uncomfortable with the situation than Gerard would have imagined. Which was cool. He'd have to talk to Bob about gender issues once they started getting things sorted out, because he was curious about Bob's kind of coolness here.

"What if he doesn't?" Ray said glumly.

"Why don't we give him a chance?" Bob shrugged. "There isn't a whole lot else we can do," he pointed out.

There was silence around the room as they all considered their predicament.

"Well," Frank said finally. "Except masturbate a whole lot. What?" he said as everyone turned to stare at him. "You know I'm right!"

Gerard poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down next to Frank at the table. "Well, besides that, there isn't a whole lot else, so –"

"Man, I hope none of us gets their periods or anything," Frank said suddenly. "How much would that suck?"

"You know," Ray said grimly. "You're not actually being helpful, Frank."

Frank grinned and slurped his coffee. "I'm not actually trying," he noted cheerfully.

Gerard giggled and rested his head on Frank's shoulder, as Ray sighed and buried his head in his hands.


"Frank," Gerard said, rolling out of his bunk later in the afternoon. "Frank, you were so totally right about the jerking off thing, I just came, like, man, three times in a row - oh." He'd pushed through the door to the studio on the back, and there was Frank, with his shirt off, studying himself in the mirrored wall. "Oh, dude, weird."

"I know, right?" Frank said, not taking his eyes off of the mirror. "It's so weird. My tattoos - they're all still there, but –"

"But it looks…different." Gerard pushed his chin over Frank's shoulder – frowning as his tits got in the way - and stared at him in the mirror, too. "So weird."

Frank had smallish breasts, maybe a handful or so, and his chest piece was – God, Gerard didn't know, he'd always kind of completely hated that chest piece, he could have drawn Frankie something so much better – but now, the grenade was sort of nestled between Frank's tits, and the webbing flowed over his breasts in this really smooth way, like netting on water or something, like what you'd use to catch mermaids. The ink was stark against the paleness of Frank's skin, but the lines curved gracefully around his nipples, and traced around the bottom of his breasts, too, sliding down underneath them.

It was kind of beautiful, like this, even though the design hadn't changed. The necklace piece was there, too, arching over the lines of Frank's collarbone. All the ink crammed in on Frank's chest was still a little bit too much, but Gerard couldn't stop staring.

"I know, right?" Frank ran his hands lightly over his own breasts. He leaned his head against Gerard's, sighing a little. "I don't know, it's so weird to see."

"Oh, man," Gerard said, looking down to where the "and" from search and destroy was peeking out over the waist of Frank's jeans, cinched tight now with a pink belt. "Can I see?"

"Yeah, man, it's…even weirder." Frank undid his belt and top button with a quick movement and slid his jeans down low on his hips. His belly curved out a little and his hips were just – Gerard couldn't help it, he reached around to press his hands against the swallow tattoos.

"The letters curve more, or something." The skin was soft under Gerard's hands and he watched in the mirror as his thumbs moved over the swallows' heads.

"I know," Frank said, still sounding distracted, staring at his totally recognizable yet completely different self in the mirror. Gerard stared at his own face over Frank's shoulder. He really didn't look that different in the face, neither of them did, but the curves of Frank's new body reflected in front of them: the swell of his breasts, his dark nipples standing out, hard in the air-conditioned room.

Gerard swallowed, and sighed, pulling back from Frank.

"What?" Frank said, shaking his head at the mirror and turning towards Gerard.

"I don't know," Gerard said, watching Frank tug his t-shirt back on, his nipples still hard and sharply defined against the worn fabric. "I feel like we're missing the point or something."

Frank frowned. "What, you mean, like, this happened for some big important reason? Like in movies, where we're supposed to learn a lesson about feminism or something? Dude, I don’t think that's it. You were already the biggest pussy around."

"Don't be misogynist," Gerard said automatically.

"I wasn't," Frank said, rocking up onto his toes. "I was being sexist. There's a difference."

"Don't do that, either," Gerard said. "You're better than that, Frankie."

"I totally am." Frank bounced a little bit, restlessly. "Hey, I've got something."

"What?" Gerard said.

"You should go down on me." Frank grabbed a hold of Gerard's wrist.

Gerard stared at him with wide eyes. They didn't - this wasn’t something they did. Or. Hadn't – well, okay, not offstage - not when they were guys.

"What?" Frank demanded. "Maybe that's the lesson you're supposed to learn. Figure out where Frank's clitoris is."

"I don't think that's it," Gerard said doubtfully.

"It might be," Frank said. "Come on, I'll help you out." He opened the door, dragging Gerard behind him in the direction of his bunk. "I've already found it a bunch of times."



There was a tapping on the wall outside of Frank's bunk, and Frank said breathlessly, "Wait, don't stop now, that was really doing it for – oh, hi, Mikey," as Gerard dragged the curtain back and looked up at their visitor.

"Hey," Mikey said again, looking down at them.

"What's up?" Gerard dragged a hasty hand over the bottom of his face, but Frank just lay there with his t-shirt pushed up and the blanket thrown haphazardly over his lap. He was pouting.

"What were you guys – oh." Mikey frowned a little. "Ew, Gee."

"It wasn't ew, Mikey, it was awesome," Frank said. His cheeks were really pink. "Or nearly awesome." He shifted under the covers a little.

"I don't want to know, Frank, so shut up." Mikey looked at Gerard again, and Gerard, half under the covers with Frank, tried to act like he totally had pants on. "Anyway," Mikey said pointedly. "Brian cancelled our gig for tonight."

"Oh." Gerard sat up, forgetting about the no-pants thing until Mikey said, softly, "Ew. Again," and closed his eyes until Gerard rearranged the blankets.

Frank, meanwhile, was trying to tug Gerard's hand under the covers. Gerard shook him off, saying, "But, I mean, that's just tonight. What if this doesn't go away that quick? We can't just keep cancelling. Brian knows that."

"Yeah." Mikey shrugged. "Maybe he has a plan."

"We could be a girl band," Frank said cheerfully.

Gerard looked over his shoulder at Frank. Frank had his own hand under the covers, now. "But we're not a girl band."

"We're a band," Frank said, "And we're girls." He bit his lip a little bit, his eyes fluttering shut as his fingers moved under the covers. "That makes us a girl band." His voice came out a little breathless.

"Frank," Mikey said, looking at the wall somewhere above both of them. "Stop it."

"I sort of can't," Frank said, shuddering a little bit. "I – oh my God."

Mikey slid the curtain closed sharply.

"Temporarily," Gerard told them both, watching as Frank tilted his head back, his mouth open wide now as he panted, his hand still moving under the sheet. "We're girls temporarily, and, I mean, being a woman is more than just the physical part of it, it's – a whole bunch of things that translate into the music, and we can't just…invade that, you know?"

"I –" Frank gasped, his hips hitching up, a bead of sweat rolling slowly down his temple as Gerard inched closer. "I just –"

"I'm leaving," Mikey said loudly from the other side of the curtain.

"Sorry, Mikey," Gerard called distractedly, his eyes drawn to where the sheet was sliding down Frank's thighs.

"Don't be sorry, be quiet," he heard faintly, as the door to the bunk area shut firmly behind Mikey.

"Gee," Frank said, panting. "Fuck, please, can you –" He wrapped one hand around Gerard's wrist and tugged it down under the covers, between his legs, where he was so fucking wet.

"God, Frankie." Gerard moved closer. He still had his t-shirt on, but Frank had tugged his pants off earlier, and he pressed himself against Frank's hip. Watching Frank writhe and pant against the pillow was getting Gerard hot and wet all over again, and he slid up against Frank at the same time as he pushed his hand further down between Frank's legs, sinking two fingers into him.

"Fuck," Frank gasped, his hips arching up off the bed. "Fuck, yeah, that, can you just -"

Gerard moved his thumb up over Frank's clit, stroking it as Frank took a deep breath and held it, his head tilted all the way back, neck damp with sweat. And fuck, Gerard wanted to draw him like this, all fucking undone on the bed, on the edge. The long line of his neck, his tattoos shaded in just so, his nipples tight and hard, his mouth, God, his fucking mouth, open and wet and panting for air that just wasn’t fucking there in the closeness of the bunk.

"Ah," Frank gasped. "I – fuck, I'm almost – please –" He angled his hips, turning his face to the side to press it into the pillow, his eyes shut tight.

"Frank," Gerard breathed, mouthing against the tattoos on Frank's shoulder, rubbing himself slickly against Frank's hip, and he felt like he was suddenly fucking close, too. Like, it had been building all along, from before Mikey interrupted them, even, and suddenly, here with Frank moving against him, his whole body had switched to on yes now GO. He moved his fingers inside Frank, deep, then drew them out, fucking soaked with how wet Frank was, and slid them up and over Frank's clit again. Frank had his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and his eyes shut tight. His hips were moving up, and up, and fuck, fuck, Gerard was close; he thought he could get off from just this. Just from watching Frank get off; just from the rough slide of his clit against Frank's hip.

"I –" Frank pushed up against Gerard's fingers. "Yeah, just – do it faster - fuck, fucking –" He gasped again, loud. "Faster," he breathed, and Gerard moved his hand as fast as he could, feeling fucking light-headed, feeling like he was falling over the fucking edge right along with Frank.

"F-fuck." Frank could barely get the word out, and he shoved his hips up hard against Gerard's hand. "I think – I'm –" Then he gasped, loud, and shook all over, the muscles in his thighs fucking tight, his mouth wide open with his head thrown back against the pillow.

Gerard couldn't tear his eyes away. Frank was beautiful like this, fucking gorgeous, undone and open, open like every front was torn away and he was letting Gerard just see him. Gerard stroked him through it, keeping his hand where it was until Frank whimpered a little and pushed it away, shuddering one last time.

"Fuck," Frank said, finally blinking his eyes open. "I can't feel my hands." He twisted his head around to grin at Gerard. "That was so much more awesome with you involved." He sounded heartfelt, and Gerard smiled back helplessly, feeling Frank's grin everywhere - in how his heart beat faster, in how he moved closer, in how he got more wet.

"Fuck, Frank." He pressed up close against him. He just – oh man, being a girl didn't take away that visceral need to fuck. His whole body just wanted him to have a dick so he could push deep inside Frank and fuck him through the mattress. "Watching you come was –" Gerard gestured with one hand, still damp and sticky from Frank.

"Yeah?" Frank said, moving easily up onto one elbow beside Gerard. "Show me." He pushed his hand in between Gerard's legs, stroking him roughly, which was just exactly what Gerard fucking needed. Jesus. Gerard fell back against the pillow, lifting his hips as Frank pushed up Gerard's t-shirt with his free hand.

"Jeez," Frank said, looking down at him. "You have really nice tits."

"They're too big," Gerard said, looking down at where one was trying to escape down into his armpit.

"No such thing," Frank said, grinning as he scooped it up, and ran his tongue over the nipple, which hardened immediately. Gerard whimpered, and Frank multi-tasked, closing his hot mouth over Gerard's nipple as he moved his hand steadily between Gerard's legs.

Gerard couldn’t even move. He felt pinned there, Frank's hot tongue moving slowly over his nipple, Frank's fingers sliding up over his clit – oh, fuck, yes, that – then moving away, pressing inside him. He pushed in deep, just this gentle stroking that was sending Gerard over the fucking edge. "Fuck, Frank, fucking – you have to – you’ve got to –" He couldn't stop talking, and he was way too loud, but it was just too fucking much and he was –"Fuck, Frank, I'm – Jesus, I'm –"

Frank twisted his fingers deep inside him, then dragged them out, rubbing them roughly over Gerard's clit at the same time as he bit down lightly against Gerard's nipple, and Gerard's back arching up as he came against Frank's fingers. It pulsed through him, not just where Frank's fingers slid over his clit, but inside, too – he felt it everywhere. It rolled through his entire fucking body in these waves that were totally, totally different from when he came with his dick.

When he finally managed to stop shaking and blink his eyes open, Frank was just sliding his own fingers out of his mouth. "You taste sweet," he said, his eyes happy and bright. "You taste good."

"You should try it with your mouth next time," Gerard said without thinking, his brain still hazy from the orgasm.

"I will," Frank said, and leaned over to slip his tongue into Gerard's mouth, letting Gerard taste himself there, like he knew Gerard was curious. It tasted – different than he expected. But then, he didn't know what, exactly, he had thought it would be like. Like always, maybe, but of course it was different; of course it tasted like when girls came - like salt and sweat, but sweet, too, like oysters, maybe, like the sea.

He licked his own lips when Frank pulled back, grinning down at him like he knew how hard Gerard was getting off on the taste of himself in his mouth. He suddenly, really, sort of desperately wanted Frank to go down on him right now, eat him out, make him come again – because he could go again right now, he really could – just so he could haul Frank up from between his legs afterwards and press his tongue into his mouth, really taste it.

"Gerard." That was Ray's voice, and most probably Ray's fist, banging on the wall next to Frank's bunk. "Phone. Brian." He paused, then said, "Mikey says put on pants before you come out." He paused again. "And wash your hands."

Frank grinned crookedly at Gerard. "Later," he said, promising.

Gerard bit his lip, nodding, and started rummaging around for his pants.


Gerard had to call Brian back on Mikey's cell – his own was lost somewhere in the depths of Frank's bunk. He slid up against Mikey on the couch in the lounge, pressing a quick kiss to the curve of Mikey's jaw, which Mikey haughtily ignored, but handed over his Sidekick, which was the same thing as forgiveness.

"Hey," Gerard said when Brian picked up.

Brian sighed. "You don't sound any different," he said, like it was a personal affront. "None of you do."

"I know, it's weird, right?" Gerard pressed back against Mikey, who huffed out a breath against Gerard's head, but didn't pull away. "I guess that's good, though? I mean, we can still sing, and play, or whatever."

"Yeah, but –" Gerard could almost picture Brian pressing his fingers against his eyes. "You're still girls."

"You think people will notice?" Gerard slid lower, settling against Mikey, and oh, weird, hey, curves. His breast made a softer resting place than his bony chest usually did.

"…yes," Brian said. "Yes. I think people will notice."

"Well. Yeah, okay, probably." Gerard watched as Frank emerged from the bunk area, tugging a hoodie over his thin t-shirt. He'd pulled on his jeans again, but the belt was gone, and they were sliding down low over his hips. "We could be a girl band?" Gerard offered tentatively, grinning a little when Frank heard him and offered two thumbs up.

The long pause before Brian answered did not, Gerard thought, seem like the sort of thinky pause Brian sometimes gave. "But you aren't a girl band."

"I know," Gerard said glumly, picking at the threads on the worn knee of Mikey's jeans. "That's what I told Frank. There are all sorts of gender issues."

"Yes," Brian said, after another one of those too-long pauses. "All sorts. Mostly to do with – and please consider that this is from my perspective as a manager – the fact that the people coming to see your shows expect to see you as, you know, guys."

"I know, right?" Gerard said, sitting up a little. "What are we going to do about that?" He waited, expectant.

"Dude," Brian said finally. "I don't know. That’s…sort of what we have to figure out."

"Oh." Gerard leaned back, resting his head back against Mikey's breast again. "Brian doesn’t know what to do," he confided in Mikey softly.

Mikey shrugged a little.

"We'll figure this out, Brian," Gerard said consolingly. "I mean, this doesn't just happen and then not go away, right?"

Brian made a strangled sound over the phone.

"This doesn't just happen and then not go away," Gerard said more firmly.

"I hope you're fucking right," Brian said. "I'm going to go make some more calls."

"Tell him I'll call Pete," Mikey said over Gerard's shoulder.

"Mikey's gonna have phone sex with Pete," Gerard said dutifully.

"Oh God," Brian said. "Just – fuck my life."

Mikey punched Gerard's shoulder. "Pete knows things," he said. "His band has been through some weird stuff."

"Whatever," Gerard murmured. "Anyway," he said to Brian. "We don't have a show until tomorrow, right?"

"Twenty-four hours," Brian said, his voice tired and tinny over the phone line. "You've got twenty-four hours."

"A lot can happen in twenty-four hours," Gerard said.

"Don't I fucking know it." Brian sighed. "I'll call back tonight."

"Maybe try Ray's cell," Gerard said hastily. Who knew what he and Frank, or Mikey and Pete, might be doing later.

"Right," Brian said tiredly, and hung up.

Gerard passed the phone back to Mikey, who immediately slid it open and started typing.

"So?" Frank asked, from where he was eating Lucky Charms out of the box, sprawled over the bench seat of the table across from the sofa. "What does Brian think?"

Gerard shrugged. "He has no idea."

"And we have until tomorrow." Frank examined a blue diamond marshmallow carefully before popping it into his mouth.

Gerard considered pointing out the anti-veganism of marshmallows, but decided to let it go. "What should we do?" he asked. Maybe see a psychic? Maybe something they'd all mutually done in a past life had led to this. Or maybe an herbalist. Maybe it was something they ate, or something they hadn't eaten, or –

"Not waste time," Frank said, smiling sweetly at Ray and Bob as they emerged from the back studio of the bus. "Tonight's a hotel night, right?" he asked, spreading his hands innocently as Ray turned to glare at him.

Ray looked at Gerard sullenly. "I think you guys are enjoying this."

Gerard looked up at Ray, surprised. "We are. Or, well, I am." He looked over at Frank, who just settled back against the wall, his legs stretched the length of the booth seat. "We both are, yeah. You guys…aren't?"

Bob shrugged, and sat down on the other side of the booth from Frank, easily snagging the cereal box from him, and throwing a handful of cereal at his face when Frank whined and grabbed for it. "It's cool," Bob said, shrugging again. "I mean, whatever."

Gerard looked at Bob with admiration. "It's awesome that you're so flexible about this."

"Whatever." Bob popped another handful of cereal into his mouth. "I can still play the drums. I can still kick Ray's ass at Halo." He grunted as Frank launched himself over the table at him, knocking the cereal box onto the floor. "I can still crush the life out of this motherfucker." He shoved at Frank, and Frank slid off him onto the floor under the table, banging his head as he went.

"Ow," he said, from under the table.

"Serves you right, wasting perfectly good Lucky Charms like that," Bob said.

Frank leaned his chin on Bob's thigh and batted his eyelashes up at him, and Bob patted him on the head a little.

"Ray's the one that's weirded out," Frank said.

"Well, yes." Ray's voiced was strained. "I don't. This isn't." He sighed. "This isn't me. I don’t want to explore gender boundaries, Gerard!" He sounded a little frantic.

"He misses his giant dick," Frank explained, still under the table.

"That's not it!" Ray said defensively.

"That's totally it," Bob said, not unsympathetically.

"That's totally it," Gerard said, leaning towards Ray across the aisle. "And that's totally okay. Totally understandable."

"I'm not a chick," Ray said unhappily.

"None of us are." Gerard reached forward to pat his knee.

"Some of us were always a little more in touch with their feminine side than others," Frank said, crawling out from under the table and kneeing his way across the aisle to push himself between Gerard and Mikey.

"Oof," said Mikey, as Frank wriggled to arrange himself comfortably.

"Don't be sexist," Bob said, as Gerard opened his mouth, then just nodded approvingly.

"I'm not," Frank said, leaning his head against the crook of Mikey's shoulder. "I'm being realistic. What?" he said when Gerard raised an eyebrow at him. "We're not girls. We shouldn't be girls. No matter how girly you – I mean, we – sometimes are. You know I'm right."

"Well." Gerard gnawed on his lip a little, thinking about it. "Okay, yeah," he said. "But go, Bob, for pushing those gender expectations."

"I just want to play the drums. Okay?" Bob said carefully, his face completely expressionless.

"Totally okay," Gerard assured him. Whatever. Bob had kind of been the least girly of the bunch of them, before the change, and he was taking this whole thing in stride. Gerard thought that was awesome.

"Anyway," Frank said. "Hotel night tonight, right?"

"I'm rooming with Frank," Gerard said before Frank even had the words out.

Frank grinned, jerking his chin up. "Yeah, you are."

"I'm rooming with Ray," Mikey said, without looking up from his Sidekick.

Ray jerked his head up, staring at Mikey. His face turned bright fucking red as Gerard watched. "Um," he said.

"Thank God," Bob muttered, settling back against the wall. "I'll get some fucking quiet tonight."

Gerard looked first at Mikey, who glanced up from his phone, his eyebrows saying absolutely nothing about the fact that he was clearly making a move on Ray. Now. Of all times. Then Gerard glanced at Frank, who was sprawled back on the seat next to him, boneless and relaxed, with this completely fucking filthy look on his face, that showed just what he was thinking about tonight's hotel night.

"Cunnilingus," Frank said, finally, enunciating carefully, and Mikey squirmed a little bit, and Gerard burst into giggles. Frank snickered loudly, and Ray got even redder, which Gerard didn't think was even possible, and Bob just continued reading his magazine, calmly flipping the page of "Drum Beat Weekly" like he didn't even notice, and definitely didn't care.


The hotel was overbooked. Which, you know, happened. Sure. On a Monday night in Ohio. Something about it being the lakes region, something about it being a certain season, and yes, they had had a reservation, but right now, the system was down, and they were going to have to wait, and finally even Ray backed away from the counter and headed sullenly to the line of chairs against the wall, where Gerard and the rest of the guys were waiting.

"We have rooms," Ray said morosely. "We just can't get in them yet. For some reason that the girl at the counter doesn’t deem fit to share with me."

Gerard sighed and shifted on his chair. Frank who was on the floor, slouched against Gerard's legs and whined quietly. They were all trying to be vaguely undercover, as far as it went. Gerard, Frank, and Bob had their hoods up, and Gerard had giant sunglasses on, even in the hotel lobby at 10 o'clock at night. Mikey's sole concession to stealth was to text with his phone held up in front of his face. Ray – who had long since given up any aspirations of stealth – had just put on one of Bob's old hoodies, zipped all the way to the chin, and hoped for the best.

Ten PM in central Ohio was apparently the best possible time and place to achieve anonymity.

"Frank." Gerard shifted. Frank was gnawing the side of his knee, in a way that shouldn't have been turning Gerard on, and yet was. Frank's breath, hot through the denim - the fact that he was desperate enough to gnaw on Gerard's knee - was really getting Gerard going. In the hotel lobby. In Ohio, on a Monday night.

"Frank," Ray said, and frowned at both Frank and Gerard when Frank jerked his head up, surprised. "Could you not do that? You know. Here?"

"I wasn't," Frank said automatically.

"You were, though," Gerard pointed out. And now Ray was frowning fiercely at both of them, which was really totally unfair, because it wasn't like Gerard had been doing anything inappropriate.

"Yeah, but it's not, like, dirty or anything." Frank shrugged, tucking his chin over Gerard's slightly-damp knee. "I was just –"

"Orally fixated," Ray said, sighing.

Mikey lifted his head from his phone at that.

"Yes," Frank said, putting his mouth on Gerard's thigh and breathing out hot against the denim. "That."

"Oh God." Ray sat down heavily in the chair next to Mikey, tilting his head back and banging it lightly against the wall with his eyes closed. "How is this my life."

Mikey slid his phone closed and got up in one quick movement, weirdly smooth. "Be right back," he said tonelessly, meandering away.

Frank rested his cheek against Gerard's leg and sighed heavily, moving his fingers over Gerard's shin in a steady rhythm. And it wasn't hot, it really wasn't, it was annoying more than anything else, but suddenly all Gerard could think about was Frank shifting around so he was between Gerard's knees. Because then he could lean forward and press his mouth up against the denim right there between Gerard's thighs, and breathe out hot, and just – fuck. Fuck. Gerard shifted in his seat, pushing Frank's head off his thigh. He was too hot, it was stifling here in the lobby. It was so fucking weird, to be this turned on and have it all just be happening – inside. No hard-on to hide, which was nice, but Jesus Christ, every time Frank breathed on him, he got wetter and wetter and it was a really weird feeling. Awesome. But weird.

Frank was sitting back, cross-legged on the floor in front of him, looking up at him in that way that said he knew exactly what Gerard was thinking about, exactly why Gerard was crossing his legs uncomfortably, exactly why Gerard's face was flushing so much.

Gerard took a breath and let it out slow. "Fuck, we need a room."

Mikey wandered back and dropped down in the seat next to Gerard again. "Here," he said, handing him a key card.

Gerard stared down at it like it was the holy grail. "I – wait, how?" Gerard looked over at the girl at the front desk, who looked a little flushed, and a lot happier than she had about ten minutes ago.

Mikey shrugged one shoulder, not looking up, but he passed another card to Bob, then sat there, flipping the third card over in his hand, and arching one eyebrow at Ray.

"Mikeyway, you're made of awesome," Frank said, pushing himself to his feet, slinging both of their bags over his shoulder, and grabbing Gerard's hand

"I am," Mikey said, still sitting there like he had all the time in the world, while Ray kept looking from Mikey to the front desk clerk, like he was trying to figure out what Mikey's secret was.

Gerard blew Mikey a kiss as he let himself be tugged towards the elevator by Frank. "He really is, you know," he said to Frank. "Made of awesome."

"I know," Frank said, really heartfelt, and Gerard – he didn't even know. It was Frank, and he was bouncing a little on his toes as they waited for the elevator to get there. Hoodie on, zipped up, jeans sliding down his hips a little, his face glowing. He was just Frank, and it was kind of this revelation or some shit like that, something that just hit Gerard square in the chest. That he wasn't getting off on Frank being a girl all of a sudden, that it was just Frank being who he was that was getting to Gerard. That it wouldn't have mattered if Frank had tits or not, Gerard wanted to press him up against the wall right here in the lobby in front of God and Ohio and do dirty, dirty things to him.

"Frank," he said, only his voice came out all hoarse, and Frank looked up at him, catching on to it, all heated, the elevator dinged, and the doors opened, and Frank had his hands wrapped in the collar of Gerard's hoodie and was dragging him inside, pressing him up against the wall before the doors had even fully closed. He dropped their bags heavily to the floor beside them.

"Gee –" Frank was pushing the front of Gerard's hoodie up and tucking his fingers into the front of Gerard's jeans as he kissed him. Gerard was hanging on to Frank's shoulders, hitching himself closer, and keeping one eye open to watch the floors change. Frank didn't care. Frank was undoing the top button on Gerard's jeans.

"Frank, we're –" Gerard bit his lip as Frank slid his fingers into his pants. The elevator dinged loudly and the doors slid open to an older guy waiting to get on. Gerard shoved Frank's hand out of his pants, blinked up to check that they were on the right floor, and dragged Frank out of the elevator. They had to duck back in to grab their bags off the floor, Frank giggling, and Gerard doing his level best to not make eye contact with the older dude, who was holding the door open with one hand, eyebrows up, looking amused. Gerard blushed hard and muttered, "Thanks, sorry, thanks," and shoved Frank down the hallway in front of him.

It only took him two tries to get the key card to work, and that was with Frank pressed up behind him, sliding his hands up under Gerard's hoodie to cup his breasts. Once they stumbled inside, Gerard pushed Frank against the wall and kissed him. When he pulled back, Frank pushed forward, trying to shove him towards the bed.

Gerard shook his head, pressed him harder against the wall, and kissed him again. It lasted a long time, and Frank was pressing himself up against his thigh when he pulled back again. "Oh. I - wait." Frank pushed up on his toes, kissing Gerard, his hands tightly fisted in the back of Gerard's hoodie. "Do that again," he said tightly, and Gerard did, pressing in against him and kissing him for all he was worth.

When he pulled back again, Frank was limp against the wall, boneless and breathless, his face flushed and his breath coming short and fast. "Fuck," he said, finally, blinking his eyes open. "I – fuck, Gerard."

"Yeah?" Gerard asked.

"Fuck, yeah." Frank surged forward against him, and this time Gerard let himself be pushed backwards, stumbling as he hit the bed, and Frank crashed down on top of him. They struggled together until Gerard got the heels of his boots on the bed, managed to push himself up far enough that his head was on the pillows. Frank, meanwhile, had his tongue busy in Gerard's mouth, while he frantically undid Gerard's jeans and worked on shoving them down. Gerard lifted his hips until Frank could get them down as far as he could, yanking one leg off inside-out, and leaving one leg caught on Gerard's boot.

"Fuck that noise," Frank said, his lips against Gerard's thigh, and sprawled on his stomach between Gerard's legs and went for it, tongue-first.

There were a lot of things about Frank that Gerard loved, but the tongue-first thing was pretty much way up there on the list.

It took Gerard about a minute and a half before he was moaning and coming against Frank's tongue, clenching tight around where Frank had slid two fingers inside, but he had to admit that one of the things that was really fucking nice about being a girl was not having to be embarrassed about coming quickly, instead of making an effort to hold off. Things were so different for girls. It felt like getting there was an achievement.

Frank seemed to think so, too, from the way he was shaking between Gerard's thighs, his eyes closed, dark lashes against his cheeks, biting a little bit against Gerard's thigh as he got himself off against the bed with his own hand between his legs.

He groaned loudly when he came, his head rocking against the skin of Gerard's thigh. His hair felt soft against the delicate skin there, and Gerard reached down to run his hand through it, gently tugging against it to tilt Frank's flushed face up to his own.

"Hi," Frank said, grinning up at him. His lips were still wet. "So, I had an idea."

"And I liked your idea," Gerard said. "Very much."

"No, not that one." Frank bit his lip. "I got distracted. You distracted me. From my other idea." He pulled away from Gerard and was reaching off the bed to snag his backpack. "Because, see," he said, rummaging through it. "This whole situation is, like, great, right?"

"Mostly?" Gerard said. "I mean, yeah, but if it's permanent, it's sort of a problem."

"Nah," Frank said, waving one hand. "It's not. It won't be. I'm pretty sure. Mikey left a message with Pete. He'll know."

"How are you so sure?"

"About it not lasting?" Frank asked. "Because it's too much fun, mostly." He shrugged, grinning. "Nothing this fun ever lasts."

"Well, maybe," Gerard said, and he couldn't help but smile, because Frank never fucking took things seriously. "But I meant how are you so sure Pete will know anything about this?"

"Because I read the internet," Frank said. "Pete is one weird fucking dude. If he doesn't know about it personally, he knows someone who knows someone. He always fucking does," he ended firmly. "Now shut up about Pete Wentz, because, here." He emerged, triumphant, from the backpack, and pressed a dildo into Gerard's hand. It was bright blue. Gerard dropped it immediately.

"Frank, what the fuck?" He wasn't put off so much as surprised. "Where did you even get that?"

"I had it," Frank said, grinning widely. He scooted his way down to the foot of the bed and started unlacing Gerard's boots. "Fuck, you couldn't have the ones with zippers down the sides?"

"That's cheating," Gerard said automatically, staring first at Frank and then at the dildo where it was lying on the bed. It was blue, and it had ridges. "You had this?"

"Yeah," Frank said, picking at a knot on Gerard's shoelaces and making a fist-pump of success when he loosened it.

"You've used it?" Gerard asked slowly, as Frank tugged his boot off and set to work unlacing the other.

"Yeah. Well," Frank amended, "Not on anyone else. Just on myself."

"Oh," Gerard said, eyeing the dildo with newfound admiration. Because – Frank had used it on himself. On himself, and he traveled with it. He brought it on tour with him. Gerard didn't bring any sex toys on tour with him. Now he was eying Frank with new-found admiration.

"Right," Frank said, and crowed with delight when he managed to wrest the other boot from Gerard's foot. He tugged Gerard's crumpled pants off his ankle with a flourish. "So I thought we could maybe, you know, try it. Because this whole thing is fun and all –" Frank was lying back on the bed, toeing his sneakers off and wriggling out of his pants. He stripped his hoodie off, and man, Gerard was never going to get over his ink curving over the pale skin of his hips, his chest, his arms. It was distracting; it made his mouth dry. "But I really want to fuck you." He turned over and started tugging Gerard's shirt up. "Like, a lot."

"You did," Gerard said, and then again, when his voice wasn't muffled by the shirt. "You just did. You shouldn't – it doesn't quantify itself like that, fucking doesn't just mean, like, sticking a dick in."

Frank swung himself up and over, grinning down at Gerard. "I know. Okay. Sorry. What I meant was, I really want to fuck you with this dildo." He leaned sideways to scoop it up off the bed, and held it loosely in his hand, arching one eyebrow at Gerard, his mouth quirked in a sideways grin. "Okay?"

"With your dildo," Gerard said, and why was his voice coming out so fucking breathless?

"With my dildo," Frank said, and it should have been funny, Gerard knew that, dildo was a funny fucking word, but Frank said it all soft, and he was leaning closer, and kissing Gerard all deep and earnest, and Gerard was lifting his hips up. And he just – he wasn't all about his dick, he was an evolved kind of dude, but right now, he sort of really missed his dick, he wanted something to press against Frank, put inside him. It was a completely different sort of urgency, that sort of outside need to just rut.

But Frank maybe got that. Or, okay, Frank definitely got that, because he was pressing Gerard down against the bed with his hips, sliding against him in this way that felt good, yeah, but nowhere near enough. "Is that okay?" Frank said, and he sounded pretty breathless, too, even though they had both just gotten off; even though all they were doing was kissing. "Can I?"

"Yeah," Gerard said impatiently. "Jesus, of course, what the fuck, am I gonna say no?"

Frank's eyes sparkled and he smiled that totally real smile again. "Well, I didn't really think you would," he said, sliding one hand firmly down Gerard's thigh. "Because fingers are all well and good and all," and here he slid his hand around, and in between Gerard's thighs, not at all slow or light or careful. He just slipped his fingers right on in where Gerard was still wet and feeling so hot, like, restless and wanting something more, even though Frank's fingers were curling up inside him, deep inside, and feeling good, but also feeling like he just wanted more. "I like fingering you, it's fucking fun, you know?"

"Yes," Gerard said faintly, lifting his hips up so Frank's fingers slid in further, the heel of his palm pressing up against Gerard's clit, but not enough, not enough. "Yeah, I - I know, I know."

"Right, so anyway, the thing of it is -" Frank slid his fingers out and completely ignored Gerard's whimper. "This is really fun, too." He pushed himself up on one hip, pressed all up against Gerard's side. Gerard could feel how wet he was, how hot he was, but Frank seemed to be completely caught up in the (God, it was really bright blue) dildo in his hand. He slid it up against Gerard, right between his legs, and it was cool against him, but not in a bad way. Gerard drew in a quick breath, his hips arching up against the ridges without exactly meaning to, and Frank giggled.

"Shut up and put it in me," Gerard said, going for tough but coming out all high-pitched and breathy.

"Hot," Frank said, and did. The dildo wasn't small – it was bigger than any Gerard had ever used on himself, or had used on him before, but hey, this was a different hole – and even as wet and ready as Gerard was, Frank still had to work it in a little bit at a time, drawing it in and out in increments as it got more slick. He didn't seem to mind – he seemed to like it, his eyes flicking up to Gerard's face (and Gerard knew he was making embarrassing sex faces, he knew he was, but right now, he couldn't help it, or care), and down to where he was working the dildo into Gerard.

"Also?" Frank said, as he pushed it in and dragged it back out, getting it wetter and sinking it in slightly deeper each time. "There's this." He flicked his thumb over the round button at the base that Gerard really should have noticed before now. Gerard gasped, way too fucking loud, because fuck, fuck, fuck, that wasn't – he didn't – Jesus Christ, nothing he had ever experienced in any way whatsoever prepared him for that.

"Oh my God," he panted, and his hand was wrapped around Frank's wrist so tight his fingers hurt. He didn't quite know what he wanted – for Frank to hold it there, or to pull it out, or to push it further in. He wanted – fuck, he wanted all of it, all at once, and he felt, like, dizzy, and close, like he could come in like, two seconds if something just happened.

"I know, right?" Frank said tightly, and fuck, Frank was just the one doing it to him, Gerard wasn't even touching Frank, and he should be, he maybe would be, only he didn't have any control over his hands or something. All he could do was hang onto Frank's wrist with one hand and the bedsheets with the other, and he wanted – he wanted –

"Frank," he said, only it came out all long and garbled and he sounded like he was fucking losing his mind, which maybe he fucking was. "You – please – stop fucking with me –" Because Frank was, he really and truly was, just sort of barely rocking the dildo – vibrator - whatever - into Gerard. Nowhere near hard enough and nowhere near deep enough and he was giving Gerard this shit-eating grin.

But – "Okay," was all he said, right before he fucking pushed the vibrator deep inside Gerard and Gerard fucking came apart under his hands. He wasn't coming, not yet, he was just fucking shaking and maybe possibly dying. He knew he had one hand clenched tight on Frank's shoulder; he knew he was making way too much fucking noise. But – "Fuck, Frank, you have to – you have to – you have to –" He couldn't finish it, couldn't get the words out. His throat fucking hurt, his thighs were clenched, and he was going to really and truly just –

"Fucking hell, Gee," Frank panted in his ear. "You're losing it - you're so fucking hot like this. Come on." He slid the vibrator in deep. "Come on," he said again, his breath hot against Gerard's neck as he slid it out, and up, and over Gerard's clit, and the vibration was too much and just right all at once, and Gerard was coming so fucking hard it was like being struck by fucking lightening.

"Oh fucking Christ –" He shoved Frank's hand away as hard as he could, which wasn't very hard, but Frank was paying attention and pulled the vibrator away while Gerard shuddered all over, thumbing it off as he tossed it aside. Gerard lay panting at the ceiling. His eyes were open, he was pretty sure, but he was seeing nothing but stars.

"Fuck, Gee." Frank's voice was rough, fucking shot, and when Gerard managed to blink and try to focus, he could feel Frank hitching his hips forward against Gerard's thigh, wet and hot and steady.

"Frank, I can't even – that was –" Gerard took a deep breath, tried to focus, feeling weak, still, wrung-out. "Let me – can I –" He tried to push up and over, because he wanted to, he really fucking wanted to go down on Frank, get him to come, get to taste him there against his tongue, but –

"Gee –" Frank was grinding against him, eyes closed, biting his own lip. "I'm so fucking –" He gasped, and surged closer. "I fucking need –"

But he apparently didn’t need anything except Gerard's thigh between his legs, because about five seconds later, he was digging his teeth into Gerard's shoulder and coming, hot and wet, against Gerard's thigh. It was, Gerard thought hazily, one of the very hottest things in a series of very hot things that had happened to him this very night. He wished he could have been more actively involved, but there was still time for that. He was busy. Recovering from coming really fucking hard, and gearing up to come again. Which he was pretty sure he'd be able to do in, like, not too long. Not too long at all. Fuck, he maybe thought if he just tensed his thighs a little more, he could get off again right now.

"Fuuuck," Frank said, drawing it out and slumping down, breathing damply against Gerard's shoulder. "That was so hot. You're so hot. Fuck, I wish I had a dick to fuck you with."

"Me too," Gerard said fervently. And then, because he'd just come and all filters were off, "Only your dick wouldn't vibrate like that. And that was just – fucking awesome." He waved one hand in the air vaguely and didn’t even feel that bad about dissing Frank's dick. Which Frank didn't actually even have right now, so Gerard wondered if he even really needed to feel bad about dissing it.

"Yeah, but it would still be awesome," Frank mumbled against Gerard's shoulder, apparently not offended by slurs against his non-vibrating and non-existent dick. "Trust me."

"I do," Gerard said, and he did, and he suddenly and whole-heartedly really fucking wished Frank had his dick again, because awesomeness of the dildo – or, right, vibrator – aside, he was kind of lying here fantasizing about Frank fucking him. Like, really fucking him. Like, pushing in, really smooth and hard and not too fast, just enough so that Gerard could really get into the slide, so that Frank could really get into the slide, and oh fucking God, that was so hot. Just the idea of Frank being able to feel that, being able to slip in there where Gerard was so hot and wet and slick, with his cock that Gerard really fucking sorely missed right now – yeah –

"Gerard?" Frank said, propping himself up with an elbow against the mattress and looking up at Gerard's face with interest.

"I'm just so glad it's a hotel night," Gerard said fervently.

"I know." Frank clambered to his knees unsteadily and was making his way up to, Gerard hoped, make out with him some more, when there was a loud, muffled crash from the room next door. Loud enough to startle them both, even though it was through the wall. They both jerked their heads up to look at the wall behind the bed.

"What the –" Frank was half-kneeling up over Gerard, staring at the wall over the bed.

There was another crash, and then a steady rhythm of thumping which could really be nothing other than a headboard being pounded against relentlessly. Over that, there was a loud – really fucking loud – groan that they could hear through the wall.

"Mikey," Gerard said, his head tilted back against the bedspread so far his neck ached.

"…you know what Mikey sounds like when he's –" Frank made an extremely elaborate and filthy gesture with one hand, and Gerard felt his cheeks get hot.

"We shared a room when we were growing up, Frank," he said haughtily, scrambling out from under Frank to kneel up on the bed and look at the wall some more. "That's what happens, you get to know things."

Frank shook his head, getting to his knees beside Gerard and staring at the wall with him. "That's gross."

Gerard shrugged one shoulder. "That's brothers."

There was a thump then, loud, and sharp enough to shake the lamp on their nightstand, and then another moan.

Frank tilted his head to look at Gerard.

Gerard shook his head slowly. "Not Mikey."

Frank's eye got even wider. "Seriously, that's not him and…Ray?"

Gerard nodded.

"Shit." Frank was levering himself off the bed and heading determinedly for the bathroom. Gerard was caught between watching the wall and watching Frank's pale hips and ass. Frank's hips won, and he found himself inching forward to the edge of the bed until Frank emerged, triumphantly holding up a glass wrapped in paper in his hand.

"C'mere," he demanded, ripping off the paper and heading over to the wall next to the bed, pressing the glass against it, and his ear against the glass.

"That doesn't really work that well in real life, you know," Gerard said, kneeing off the bed and coming to stand beside Frank with his arms crossed. "Besides," he added, as another thud against the wall made the room shake. "It's not like we need it."

Frank made a shushing motion with his hand, frowning as he pressed his ear harder against the glass, and Gerard sighed, and rolled his eyes, and finally said, "Gimme, let me have a chance."

Frank wrestled him for the glass, but eventually turned it over, and Gerard, victorious, pressed it against the wall and listened carefully to the hollow sea-sounds that came through it. The glass base was still warm from Frank's skin.

"You know it's gross that you're eavesdropping on your brother fucking Ray through the fucking wall, right?" Frank demanded, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Shhh," said Gerard, pressing his ear harder to the glass, even though it didn't help him hear even a little bit better. Then -

"Jesus," both he and Frank muttered, at the same time, as a long, loud moan came right the fuck through the wall, no glass even fucking required. Gerard pulled his head back quickly and tried to hand the glass to Frank, who shook his head firmly. He and Frank looked at each other as the noises escalated, the thumping against the wall became more steady.

"Mikey," Frank said, finally, shaking his head.

"Yeah," Gerard said, backing away from the wall a little, to sit on the edge of their bed, the glass still clutched in his hand.

"Want to watch TV?" Frank offered, after a long pause, and Gerard nodded gratefully, sliding back on the bed and arranging the pillows behind him.

"Turn it up loud," Gerard said, wincing the tiniest bit when they clearly heard what had to be Ray's high voice demanding, "Deeper."

"Yeah." Frank thumbed up the volume, frowning thoughtfully at the scene of Steven Segal throwing roundhouse kicks on the screen. "Man, do you think they have toys in there?"

Gerard blinked, and resolutely did not look away from the TV. "I don't know, Frank," he said firmly. Not thinking about it. At all. At all.

Frank was quiet for a minute, and the two of them watched Steven Segal kick some random dude's ass on screen. "Where did he even get a toy to use?" Frank followed up, chewing on his lip. "Did he buy it special? Or did he just, huh, have it with him all along?"

Not that Gerard hadn't been thinking about it. He had. But. He was trying very hard to divorce his recent experience of yay toys from his brother using some toy on Ray just on the other side of the wall there, thanks and he wasn't being very successful.

Frank was gazing up at the ceiling like this was just a really interesting question to consider, so he didn't even move to block it when Gerard slammed one of the pillows down over Frank's face very hard.


They fell asleep against each other with the TV still on, and when they woke up with the early-morning light coming in pale through the hotel curtains, Frank let Gerard fuck him with the vibrator. Frank was an easy sell with that – he came almost as soon as Gerard stroked it up against his clit, clutching at Gerard's shoulders and groaning against his neck. "Fuck," Frank said, thickly, trying to catch his breath. "Fuck, that was –"

Gerard hummed a little and pushed the dildo inside him where he was slick and hot and ready, and Frank choked, and swore at him, and lifted his hips off the bed to meet his thrusts. And Jesus, Gerard missed his dick right then. All he wanted to do with his fucking life at that point was sink into Frank as deep as he could and fuck him right through the goddamn mattress. He wanted to fuck, his muscles remembered what it was like, and his hips ached for it.

He fucked Frank with the dildo instead, shoving it in deep, and twisting it, until Frank came again, thrusting up against Gerard's hand and shaking all over. It was so hot to watch, so hot, and after Gerard pulled the dildo out of him and threw it aside, Frank blindly reached for Gerard with shaking hands, and said, "Fuck, Gee, I –" and pressed three fingers inside of him all at once.

Gerard got fucking lost in the slide and thrust of Frank's fingers, off-beat and uncoordinated and perfect. Gerard moved his hips against Frank's fingers, and pushed his own hand down between his legs to guide them, and he wasn't as easy as Frank, but between the two of them, they got him off after several minutes of rough, and fucking loud, finger-fucking.

It was fantastic, and Gerard fell asleep with his face pressed against Frank's shoulder about sixty seconds after he came.

The next time they woke up, it was because of the wake-up call, and they had to get down to the bus in the next half-hour, and if they didn't get out of bed, there'd be no time for real coffee, which for Gerard meant Starbucks, which was enough for him to get out of bed, at least, but was not enough to get him into the shower.

"I'm fine," Gerard said, when Frank offered him the first shower.

"Okay, gross," Frank said, wrinkling his nose.

"I took a shower yesterday," Gerard said indignantly. Seriously, come on.

"Yeah, and then I fucked you six ways from Sunday," Frank said. "Seriously. You need a fucking rinse down there."

Gerard had a strict policy against showering more than once in the same twenty-four hour period. It was such a waste of time. "You go first."

"If I go first," Frank said, all awake and with raised eyebrows, all judgey, "You'll be fully dressed when I come out, and I'll have to wrestle the clothes off of you, and we'll end up being late."

"Okay!" Frank had pretty much had him at the wrestle the clothes off you point.

"No, not okay." Frank had a hold of, like, his wrist and his ankle, and the sheets were still all tangled, and Gerard had no coordination when he just woke up, so he was pretty much going to end up on the floor no matter what. Frank was tugging at him with purpose, and just –

"Fine, fine," Gerard said grouchily. "Get the water on. Hot," he called out, as Frank eyed him doubtfully, but let go of his limbs and headed for the bathroom. "Also, you have to wash me."

"Also you have to blow me," Frank shouted from the bathroom.

Which, if Frank had his dick back, Gerard could totally have done without a shower being involved. "Fuck," he muttered to himself and hauled himself out of bed to head towards the bathroom.


Gerard climbed on the bus with a Starbucks cup clutched in one hand, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, his sunglasses on, and his hood up. He was pretty much as content as it was possible for him to get, even with the girl thing still being a problem.

He sat on the couch with Frank and both of them watched with interest as Mikey climbed onto the bus, awkward as usual, throwing a toneless "Hey," to them both. Gerard gave him a look through his sunglasses (mostly conveyed through eyebrows) of seriously you fucked Ray what the fuck how did I not know about this.

Mikey moved his mouth a little and adjusted first his hair and then his bra strap in a way that said, slightly smugly, I don't tell you absolutely everything, and maybe you should thank me for that.

Gerard blushed and slunk back behind his cup of coffee and Mikey leaned against the counter in the kitchen, doing that not-smiling but totally smiling thing he had perfected, and watched, expressionless, as Ray climbed on board the bus.

Ray was moving a little stiffly. Gerard was sure of it. And Gerard was absolutely not thinking about why he was stiff.

"Hey," Ray said to the room at large, but his gaze fell largely on Mikey.

"Hey," Mikey said, shifting his weight a little. He sipped his coffee as Ray say, "Hey," again, his face going very, very red, and made his way back to the bunks.

Gerard just stared at his outrageous display of outright flirting on Mikey's part and offered Mikey his raised eyebrows of wow, wow, okay, why don't you just DO IT right in front of me.

Mikey took another sip of coffee, staring at Gerard in that yeah, well, you and Frank do it right in front of me all the time, and then Frank said, "Oh my God, you guys, stop it, you know that freaks me out!"

"What?" Mikey said at the same time Gerard said, "Sorry."

Frank rolled his eyes way harder than necessary at both of them and slid down to put his head on Gerard's lap, and his feet on the wall at the end of the couch. Gerard looked down, then irritably shifted one of his boobs out of the way so he could actually see Frank's face. "You're way too amused by this."

Frank had his eyes closed, but his mouth tilted into a smile. "I know, right?"

"The thing is," Gerard said, "This has to end sometime, right? I mean, we're not going to be women forever. Right?"

Frank blinked his eyes open and frowned. "That smacks of, like, misogyny. Or something. Doesn't it?" He asked like it was a real question. Like he wasn't sure if he had a right to wish he was back to being a guy.

"I don't think so." Gerard had thought about this. "I mean, it's not like you and I don't take a whole lot of shit for being girly, right? When we're dudes, I mean."

Frank nodded, all whatever. Frank had been taking a lot of shit just for being Frank for his entire life, Gerard got that.

"I mean, if we were actual girls – not just the physical, but always-been-a-girl-girls – no one would blink an eye. We'd just be…regular. Or something." Gerard frowned. This wasn't coming out right.

"No, I get it," Frank said sleepily. His eyes were half-closed, but he was listening. "It's…perspective. And, you know. Reality. And – fuck, fuck." He yawned, hugely. "I’m just so fucking fucked out here, I'm not making any sense." He blinked up at Gerard. "Can we talk about this later? I want to. I promise."

"Yeah, of course." Gerard pushed one hand through Frank's hair, and Frank sighed and turned his face into Gerard's stomach.

"Love you," he said, muffled against the fabric of Gerard's hoodie.

"Me, too," Gerard said, and they'd said it a hundred times before, they totally had. It wasn't weird for them, and it wasn't new, and hell, even the fucking didn't make that much of a difference, orgasms shouldn't send you over the edge into true fucking love or whatever. But – there was something about Frank's breath, hot against Gerard's stomach through the layer of clothes. Something about how his hand curled around Gerard's wrist loosely, like he was hanging on a little bit, drawing Gerard close. He didn't even know what to call the feeling that was rolling through his body.

Bob climbed onto the bus last, talking quietly to George, their driver, for a second before making his way into the lounge. He looked at them – not weird, not surprised, not evaluating, just this very Bob look of, "Huh. Okay. Got it," like even he knew something had changed - all if it coalesced in Gerard's stomach all at once.

"Oh," he said out loud. He was still holding onto Frank's hair, as Frank breathed heavily in sleep against his stomach. Frank mumbled something, and shifted closer, and Gerard tilted his head back against the wall as the bus rumbled to a start, and there was a jerk as it shifted into drive and began its slow pull out of the hotel parking lot.


Frank woke up when the bus shifted lanes abruptly and Gerard almost rolled both of them off the couch before he caught himself. He pushed up off of Gerard's chest and yawned big before scrubbing a hand over his own face and saying, "Coffee."

"Yeah!" Gerard said immediately – he'd finished his Starbucks almost twenty minutes ago – and watched Frank shuffle over to the counter and start putting together a pot. "My arm's asleep," Gerard mentioned. "You slept on me for a long time."

Frank raised an eyebrow at him. "You'll survive."

"My shirt's damp where you drooled on it, too." Gerard didn't actually mind the drool.

Frank leaned back against the counter, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Any other complaints, princess?" he asked, sounding deeply amused.

Gerard frowned. "My coffee ran out while you were sleeping," he said finally.

Frank gestured grandly at the coffee maker. "And I am humbly making you more," he said.

"Which is why I'm forgiving you," Gerard said.

Frank poured him cup of coffee as Gerard finally pushed himself off the couch, shaking out his arm, which was still all pins and needles. "Thanks," he said, and Frank leaned into him a little, with one shoulder, as he added a truly unholy amount of sugar to his own coffee. "I'm going to sleep," Gerard added, holding his coffee cup close to his chest and he turned towards the bunk area.

Frank was leaning against the counter again, grinning at him. He looked so very much like Frank always did - not that startling double-take thing that happened when you saw Bob's hulking, Amazonian girl-figure coming towards you, or the weird "oh, hey, Ray has a sister" thing that happened with him. It was just Frank; more of a defined waist, maybe, more curves, but not much, all hidden under his baggy clothes just like usual, and his smile was exactly the same. Exactly the same.

"What?" Frank asked curiously, when Gerard stared too long.

"Nothing," Gerard said, looking down at where his coffee cup rested snugly between his own boobs. "I was just –" He missed Frank, his Frank. Which was stupid. His Frank was right here. He looked up at Frank again, who was sipping his coffee, his eyes crinkling in amusement over the mug. "I need a nap," he said, and yawned, and sipped his own coffee like a reflex.

"'kay," Frank said, and Gerard stumbled back to his bunk, actually exhausted all of a sudden, the caffeine in his system not even coming close to off-setting it. He finished his coffee lying down, and rested the empty mug precariously in a corner of the bunk before tugging the covers up over his shoulder and pressing his hot face against the pillow. His brain wouldn't stop moving. He didn't want all of this to be tied up in gender roles. It shouldn't be, it wasn't right or fair or even honest. Everything seemed mixed up and wrong. They had a show tonight, this very night, that Brian hadn't been able to cancel and they still had no actual plan to handle the situation. Gerard didn't want to chance going on stage like this and having someone notice; have it taken like they were using padding or whatever to play-act to be girls. How horrible would that be? To have people think they would do something like that, pretend to be something they weren't for a laugh, for a joke?

Gerard worried himself to sleep thinking about it.

He woke up to Frank shaking his shoulder. "Fuck, Gerard, you could sleep through a nuclear blast."

"No, you," Gerard managed, a pretty awesome comeback for having been awake two seconds, he thought.

"Gerard, wake the fuck up." Frank was tugging on him now, and if Gerard could make a fist, he'd be punching him. In, like, the arm or something. Hard enough to bruise, too, probably.

"Fuck off fuck off fuck off," Gerard chanted, holding onto his pillow tightly.

"You're such an asshole," Frank sighed. He stopped tugging on Gerard's arm and poked him in the head, instead. "There's coffee," he said, casually. "Just brewed." He stopped poking, and Gerard opened one eye to see him sitting back on his heels next to Gerard's bunk. "I used filtered water," Frank offered.

Gerard moaned, and flailed a little bit to push himself up, and rolled out of the bunk, landing on Frank.

"Ooof." Frank shoved at him till he got to his feet, and Gerard shuffled down the hall. He could smell the coffee from here.

Frank followed him down the hall, and sat down across from where Mikey was texting on the bench seat of the table. He didn't get up to help Gerard find, like, a clean mug or spoon or whatever. Gerard dug through the tiny cabinet with his eyes half-open till he found his Henry the Eighth disappearing wives mug (old enough and washed so many times that the wives no longer disappeared when the hot liquid was added, and were, in fact, flaking off the outside of the mug). He filled it with coffee – God, it smelled so damn good – and added Splenda and creamer, stirring and taking a cautious sip before adding a tiny bit more creamer, taking another sip and nodding, satisfied – before turning to lean against the counter. No use going to sit down yet; he was going to need a refill in about three minutes. Then he'd go shove Mikey's feet out of the way and curl up beside him.

He took another long sip – man, Frank made a good pot of coffee – and looked up. Bob was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, leaning back against it. Ray was sprawled across the couch behind him. Frank and Mikey were still at the table, and everyone was looking at Gerard.

"I had the weirdest dream about Doom Patrol," he offered. "Seriously, it was so fucking vivid and, like," he gestured up by his head to try to show how it had, like, exploded inside his head, "full Technicolor. Like a whole plot to it, too, really detailed, only it took place, like, here." He took another sip of coffee, as Frank put his head down on the table. "Only not here, on the bus, here, but here, like, in our world, here. Like, they were on tour with us? Or something." He blinked, trying to remember. Fuck, dreams went away like that once you were awake. He needed his sketchbook. He could stay in it if he could draw what he had dreamed about. "Fuck, I need my sketchbook."

"Told you so," Bob said.

"Mikey, have you seen it?" Gerard asked. They were all still just looking at him, and Frank was sort of moaning quietly now, his head still on the table.

Mikey looked up from his phone. "It's under your bag, over by Frank's bunk," he said.

"Awesome," Gerard said. Mikey almost always knew where Gerard's most important things were. He started to head over to grab it.

"Gee," Frank said. Loudly. Loud enough that Gerard jerked around.

"What?" Gerard asked.

"Notice anything different?" Frank said through gritted teeth, lifting his head up from the table.

Gerard blinked. "Uhm." No. "No?" he said.

"Of course not," Frank said, dropping his head back to the table with a painful-sounding thump. "Ow," he added.

"What?" Gerard asked, looking around. Fuck. Everyone was in on the joke except for him. "What?" he said again, sadly. "You know I hate not knowing stuff."

"Yes," Frank said, his voice echoing hollowly off the table. "We do know that. Just. Fucking." He sighed, heavily, as Gerard stared at the top of his head with as much hurt as he could muster. "Gerard," Frank said finally, lifting his head up and resting it on one hand, so he slouched tiredly sideways on the table. "How's your dick doing?"

"Fine?" Gerard said, his hand moving to adjust it automatically before quickly pulling back. "It's fine. It's a little weird that you're talking about it, but – oh. Oh. OH." Gerard palmed himself, fuck any audience for it. "Oh, it's back." He looked up at Frank and Mikey gleefully. "I'm a guy, again!" he exclaimed, his hands flapping excitedly in the air.

"You sure?" Frank said wryly.

"Wait, is everyone - ? Oh, you all are, too!"

"Yes, Gerard," Frank said, more obnoxious than was strictly called for. Although, okay, now that he had a cup of coffee in him, and was pouring himself another one, it was totally obvious that everyone was back to their normal selves. Like. Okay, really very obvious. Except for Frank, who really could have gone either way, seriously. The way he was leaning there on the table, with his hoodie on and his stupid boy jeans, there was no way that Gerard could have known he was back to having a dick. But he was, right? He said yes, everyone, so –"You have yours back, too, right?" Gerard checked.

"…yes," Frank said, with this totally obnoxious pause, like Gerard was a moron or something. On purpose.

"I was just checking," Gerard said.

"Gee," Frank said "How did you not notice your dick was back?"

"I don't know." Gerard drank some more coffee while he thought about it. "I think it was because of the Doom Patrol dream."

"Of course," Frank said, propping his chin up in that trying-not-to-laugh way, not in a trying-not-to-mock-Gerard way – which, Gerard had to say, he never actually tried very hard. "Of course. Doom Patrol is distracting."

"Right?" Gerard said at the exact same time as Mikey. Gerard loved Mikey. "Anyway, when did it happen?"

"Like, right in the middle of lunch," Ray said glumly. "It was a really, really fucking weird feeling."

"I know, right?" Gerard said. "It happened to all of you? I mean, us? At the same time?"

"Yeah," Frank said, running his hands down his chest where his breasts used to be, like he wasn't even aware he was doing it. "One second we were girls, and then next, everything, like - "

"Shifted," Gerard finished for him.

"Yeah, exactly. Like, a flashback in a movie, or something." Frank shrugged. "Then we all just had our junk back."

Everyone in the room shifted a little, almost at the same time, like they were just making sure all the right pieces were back where they belonged. Gerard did it, too. He wanted to, like, really check, though, take a look and a feel and make sure it was the way it was supposed to be, but everyone else was being really blasé about it. Or else they had checked before he woke up. Either way, he just drank more coffee and made plans for later.

Mikey looked up from his phone. "That's what Pete said would happen. Like, it would just reverse itself, without warning."

"How did he know?" Frank asked curiously.

Mikey shrugged one shoulder, and went back to texting. "A lot of weird stuff happens to Pete."

"That's what I told your brother," Frank said.

Mikey smiled a little. "Gerard doesn't like Pete knowing things he doesn't."

Gerard grunted a little and drank more coffee. He really didn't like that. He didn’t one hundred percent trust Pete Wentz. As, like, a lifestyle choice.

"Okay, then," Ray said abruptly, slapping his hands on his thighs. He looked a little crazy around the eyes with sheer relief. "We're at the venue in about an hour. I'm going to go work on play around with some riffs in the back."

"He means 'jerk off,'" Mikey said, not looking up from his phone, his mouth curved in a tiny smile. "What?" he said, looking up when Ray made a strangled sound as he pushed himself up from the couch. "You want to make sure the equipment still works, right?"

"I -" Ray closed his eyes, clearly counting to ten in his head. "I'm going to go work on some riffs." He opened his eyes and glared at all of them equally, which Gerard thought wasn’t very fair, since Mikey was the only one giving him shit. "And that is it." He walked stiffly out of the room, head held high.

Frank put his head back down on the table, giggling quietly. "What'd you do to him last night, Mikey?" he asked interestedly. "I mean, we heard some of what was going on, but -"

Mikey glanced up at Frank over his phone. "Are you looking for pointers?" he asked. "Because first, gross, hi, you're doing my brother, and second, I'm way taller than you, so I'm not sure you could actually bend that way, and -"

Frank and Bob were leaning in interestedly, while Gerard was trying to swallow his mouthful of hot coffee fast enough to put a stop to this. "No, no, no, no, no," he finally managed, talking loudly over Mikey. "No pointers! None!" He pointed first at Mikey, then at Frank, both of whom gave him looks of complete innocence.

"Okay, then," Bob said. He looked around at everyone, then flipped on the TV, and fired up Halo, settling in comfortably on the floor as the soothing sounds of electronic gunshots and squealing car tires filled the silence of the lounge.

"Okay," Gerard said, turning to top up his coffee even as he kept a guarded eye on both Mikey and Frank.

Frank moved to the couch and Bob tossed him the other controller. Frank held it for a second, looking at Gerard, but Gerard shook his head. He had had nowhere near enough coffee to have a conversation about things with Frank, and besides, he didn't want to talk about it with Mikey right –

"Aw, hell," he sighed, slipping into the booth where Mikey no longer was. He hadn't seen him move, but there was nowhere to go but down the hall, and he was either in his bunk or in the back with Ray, and just - either way -

Bob glanced over at him and grabbed the clicker to turn the sound up on the game. Gerard gave him a grateful smile, and Frank glanced around, then giggled as Bob kicked his ass at Halo.


They got to the venue early enough that Mikey and Ray were still locked in the back room, and Bob wanted to hang out on the bus till it was closer to show time.

Frank dragged Gerard off the bus almost as soon as it pulled to a stop. By the time they got to their dressing room, Gerard was jittering in place like a crazy person, and he knew it, but couldn't stop it. He felt weird.

"So," Frank said, leaning back against the counter, mirrored wall behind him. He had his hands braced on the counter. His jeans were sliding down his hips. He was giving Gerard a look.

"What?" Gerard asked, too nervous and too quick.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Frank asked, open and curious.

"I don't know!" Gerard slumped on the couch across from Frank, the rough corduroy fabric of it weirdly comforting underneath him, like every other couch in every other dressing room across the world. Some things never changed. "I really don't," he insisted when Frank raised one eyebrow at him. "I'm just all…in my head about this."

"About what?" Frank said. "About us?"

He sounded, like, guarded, a little. "No," Gerard said. "Not about us, but about this whole thing, like." He stopped, tried to think of how to explain it. "Like, before, it felt like it was experimenting, maybe, or taking advantage of the situation, or whatever, like, how often does that happen, right, that we turn into girls and all?"

"Almost never," Frank offered dryly.

"Right! Exactly! So of course we were going to be curious and try things we normally don't do and I just. I don't. Was that it? Was it –"

"Was I just into you because you were a girl?" Frank asked.

"Well, yeah." Gerard ducked his head and looked up at him through hair. "I mean." He bit his lip. "It would be fine if that was –"

"I'm not that straight," Frank said, pushing off of the counter and advancing on Gerard. "I'm not sure where the hell you got that idea in your head."

Gerard's face felt hot. "I didn't – I mean, I figured you were, you know –"

"What?" Frank asked, coming even closer.

"I don't know, I knew you were – you're Frank, you're not. You don't –"

"I do," Frank said, dropping easily to his knees in front of Gerard. "You know I do. You've seen me do it."

"Onstage," Gerard managed, as Frank slid his hands up Gerard's thighs, his palms hot even through Gerard's jeans.

"You've seen me do it offstage." Frank shifted closer, pushing Gerard's feet apart with his knees. "You've done it with me offstage."

"Not like that," Gerard said, his voice coming out too tight, too high. "Not like we've been doing."

"No," Frank agreed. "Not like we've been doing." He was close, now, up on his knees, leaning in like he was going to kiss Gerard, or maybe just explain something very important to him. His eyes were serious, and his mouth was open a little, and when Gerard just looked at him – all Gerard could do was look – Frank shook his head a tiny bit and sat back on his knees at the same time as he opened the button on Gerard's jeans, and tugged the zipper down.

Gerard made a totally unexpected noise in his throat, and Frank giggled a little as he pulled at Gerard's jeans, made him lift up so he could get his dick out. Gerard was hard – Gerard had been hard since Frank dragged him off the bus. Fuck, Gerard had been hard since he'd been sitting at the table on the bus, thinking in great and meaningful detail about all the things he could do to Frank with his newly-reinstated dick.

And Frank had known that. Gerard could see, now, in Frank's eyes, how Frank had known that, but had kept on playing video games with Bob, even though he had been completely aware of Gerard's state the whole time.

"So," Frank said, sliding his hand around the base of Gerard's cock. Gerard sucked in a breath and pushed his hips up, but Frank wasn't budging. "What, you're thinking I only went after you because you were a chick? That I liked your pussy more than I liked your dick? Because," and here he gave a long, slow stroke to Gerard's dick, finishing it off with a nice slide of his thumb over the top where Gerard was already leaking like a motherfucker, Jesus Christ, that felt good –"That's very binary thinking, Gerard."

"I –" Fuck. Gerard could talk gender politics with the fucking best of them, when Frank's hand wasn't around his cock. When Frank's other hand wasn't nudging behind his balls. "You're –"

"Oh, screw it," Frank said thickly, and sank his mouth down around Gerard's cock, hot and tight and so fucking sweet Gerard thought he might die from it. He shoved one hand into Frank's hair, holding on so tight it hurt, but he didn't even remember moving. Frank moaned around him, and he had one hand dug in tight on Gerard hip, and oh Christ, he was sucking Gerard's cock like it was his favorite thing to do in life. He was making these noises that were filthy dirty and totally awesome, and Gerard was hanging onto the couch with the fingers of the hand that wasn’t clutching Frank's head, trying so hard to not lose all fucking control and just fuck Frank's mouth.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fucking hell, Frank–"

Frank made a frustrated noise and took in a breath through his nose and then went down deep, God, all the fucking way down, opening up his throat and oh holy fucking God, Gerard was going to die right here on this dirty corduroy couch and he didn't even know what city he was in anymore.

Frank held him there for an endless moment, then slid up, and off, looking up at Gerard with his mouth obscenely wet and used. "Gee. Fucking just – do it, okay? I got this."

"I – oh fuck, Frank, you don't have to – just –" But Frank had already sucked him in again and fuck, all Gerard could do was dig his hands into Frank's shoulders, and lift his hips up again, and again. He had no fucking control – his orgasm was bearing down at him like a fucking freight train and he couldn't stop pushing up into the perfect hotness of Frank's mouth if he tried. "Jesus, just – do that again, fuck, with your tongue, oh my God, Frank, you're fucking – yes, yeah, like that, like that, please –" He couldn’t shut his mouth, couldn’t stop his hips, and it was all he could manage to say, "Oh fuck, I’m gonna come, Frankie," right before he did, pushing up hard into Frank's mouth and holding there, his hips off the couch, as he came and Frank made a really happy noise and swallowed around him.

"Jesus Christ," Gerard said, finally, his voice coming out rough, his head tilted back against the back of the couch.

"Jesus Christ," Frank said, his breath coming hot and fast where his face was resting against Gerard's thigh. "Oh fucking hell, Gee, I cannot believe you thought I was only hot for chicks."

"I never really thought that," Gerard said. "I just worry."

"Jesus Christ," they both heard a tired voice say behind them.

Gerard sat up so fast his neck hurt, as Frank fell back with a thump, his legs sprawled in front of him. "Brian!"

Brian was in the doorway of their dressing room, taking a quick look into the hall as he shut the door firmly behind him. "Well," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and taking in a deep breath through his nose. "Good to see you got your dicks back where they belong."

Gerard quickly started arranging things so he could zip up his pants. Frank just sprawled there on the floor, his hard-on obvious in his jeans, even in the face of Brian's wrath. "I know, right?" Frank said happily.

"No, really, it's great, because I had no fucking clue how I was going to explain to the promoters that My Chem was going to be performing as the Indigo Girls tonight."

"Brian," Gerard said reproachfully. "Dicks or no dicks, we were always going to be My Chem. That's not fair. And maybe misogynist," he added after a second.

"Or sexist," Frank offered.

"Or sexist," Gerard agreed. "But inaccurate, either way."

Brian was still doing the special breathing technique he seemed to have to do a lot when Gerard and Frank were on the same side in an argument. "Regardless," he said stiffly, "of any inaccuracies when it comes to my choice of phrase," and here he took in what seemed to be a very necessary deep breath, "were any of you going to maybe tell me you changed back?"

"I –" Gerard stared first at Brian, and then at Frank. "You guys didn't call him?"

"We were distracted," Frank said defensively, sitting up on the floor. "There was a lot going on! And you slept through it," he said to Gerard accusingly.

"You didn’t call Brian!"

"You didn't call Brian," Brian said to Gerard. "None of you called Brian. Brian had to find out you were guys again by getting the live-in-person show of you sucking each other's dicks."

Gerard blushed heavily and both he and Frank went silent for a few seconds.

"Technically," Frank offered, almost under his breath, "Gerard was the only one who got his dick sucked before you walked in. I'm just saying!" he insisted, as Brian groaned and shoved the heels of his hands against his own eyes as he sagged back tiredly against the door.

"But hey," Gerard said, "It's good news, right? We're back to being guys!" He made jazz hands in the air as emphasis.

Brian dropped his hands from his eyes and looked at him. "Are you sure?"

"Why do people keep asking me that?" Gerard asked Frank.


"Some people," Gerard yelled into his microphone on stage that night. "Some people in this world might decide to judge you –" He broke off to let the audience scream their indignation at that. "They might decide to judge you because you're a BOY who doesn't act like they think boys SHOULD."

More screaming, and Gerard planted a hand on one hip and lifted his chin up high.

"Some people," he said again, getting into the rhythm of it now, "Might decide to judge you just because you're a GIRL and they can't see past that to the special INDIVIDUAL you truly are."

Lots more screaming, and Gerard threw his hands up, kept his head thrown back, demanding their attention.

"And SOME PEOPLE," he bellowed, "Some people see you for who you TRULY ARE. Some people have their EYES OPEN." He battled on, insistent and loud, over the screams of the crowd, delirious with joy at his feet. "THOSE are the people," he screamed. "THOSE are the people who you should take a fucking CHANCE on. THOSE are the people who you should open your fucking heart to, because THOSE are the people –" he paused, one hand thrust up high into the air, one foot up on the amp at the front of the stage, "Who really fucking MATTER in this world!"

He whirled around, both arms in the air now, the crowd going wild behind him, Mikey grinning at him from behind his bass, and Frank was off to Gerard's right, guitar hanging in front of him, hands clasped behind his back, his chin up, looking seriously out at the crowd.

Gerard shot a look at the audience over his shoulder, eyebrows arched, and marched over to Frank. He tangled one hand in his hair and tugged on it, hard, leaning in close, and dragging him near. "I fucking love you," he said, low in Frank's ear, just for him, as the crowd fucking lost it in the stadium behind them.

"I fucking know," Frank said, laughing hotly in Gerard's ear, and Gerard buried his face in Frank's sweaty hair for a second before shoving him away, and rocking his hips along to the beat as Bob drummed them into the next song.

He spun to face the audience, sweat in his eyes, his heart beating loud and fast, Frank close beside him to his right strumming fast and loud and perfect. He loved his fucking life.

the end