(no subject)

[gala_apples]

Title: Just Like Queer As Folk (if Michael liked zombies and Brian wasn't a douche)
Pairings: Mikey/Gerard, Mikey/Ray, Mikey/Gerard+Frank, Mikey/Gerard/Ray/Bob/Frank
Rating: nc17
Word count: 15 334
Warnings: incest, brief infidelity, mentions of mental health issues
Summary: When Ray outs himself as gay, Gerard takes it upon himself to out his relationship with his brother. Mikey initially doesn't appreciate the gesture, but after an interlude with Ray and an intervention by Frank, Mikey sees the good that can come out of it. Namely, a relationship with all his best friends that'll hopefully last until they graduate high school.
Author notes: thanks so much halfeatenmoon for all your help with this. This fic is much better for correcting the things you pointed out.



Ray’s different from the rest of them. Well, they’re all different from each other. They’re all unique, special fucking snowflakes, so sayeth his drama teacher. Mikey’s got to appreciate her enthusiasm, and her urge to foster the creativity of fragile young theatre freaks, even though he doesn’t entirely buy it.

When it comes to dating though, Ray really is different from the rest of them. Bob’s never dated, so he’s avoided any related trauma. Gerard’s one girlfriend broke up with him after he asked if she wanted to try using her vibrator on him, so he was able to tell himself he was better off without a bi-phobic bitch. Frank and Jamia are a sort of new-age beard for each other, in which they are out to friends, straight for their parents, and might one day get married because they can easily spend twenty three hours a day together, but suck dick and eat vag, respectively. For his part, Mikey occasionally hooks up with a stranger, when he's not in the basement with his brother. Ray’s the only one of them to ever really fall in love with some girl across the room. It must be love, no one would spend that much time with someone so annoying if they weren't in love.

But it’s over now, for whatever reason. Mikey doesn’t know, literally all he knows is Ray’s text of it’s over. It doesn’t take a genius to know what he’s talking about. If he meant he just beat Twilight Princess or Ocarina of Time he’d call to brag. Ray only texts about bad things.

After reading it a second time, Mikey slides his phone back in his pocket and heads to the bedroom to shake Gerard awake from his after school nap. He’s been his little brother forever, and he’s never seen a day go by from kindergarten on where Gerard didn’t crash for an hour or two mid-evening. As a little kid he used to get in trouble for waking him up so they could play. Now it’s just easier to let him sleep and avoid the bitching. Of course, there are exceptions. Sometimes there’s an early starting movie marathon, or he’s found some really good live streaming porn. Or sometimes a friend needs help.

When Gerard tenses against the shaking, Mikey knows he’s awake enough to listen. “Drive us to Ray’s.”

“Whaaa?” Words are surprising this early in the saga that is getting Gerard coherent and mobile. He must not have completely dropped off.

“We’re going to Ray’s house, we need to rescue him.”

Mikey has to give his brother credit for immediately standing, though he can’t help but smirk when the blanket goes with him and the coil of it around his leg makes him tumble. Gerard is loving, but generally only semi-competent.

lou’s gonna be a prick Frank sends him as Gerard tugs pants on; once white, now almost completely grey jeans pulling at every inch of skin. Mikey knows. He used the word rescue for a reason. Even if he didn’t think Ray’d need them, he’d go over just to be a buffer for Lou. Ray's brother has opinions on everything, most of them dude-broish and frustrating. He'll definitely have an opinion on his little brother's first break up.

They drive with the windows down. The rushing cold air is a shock, enough to make Mikey pull his hood over his cheeks and curl his hands into his sleeves. But it’s helping jog Gerard into livelihood, so he puts up with it and doesn’t roll his side up. The alternative is Gerard falling asleep again and both of them crashing through a tree.

The front door is unlocked when Mikey tests it. Inside there are three pair of shoes on the nasty grey mat bridging the gap between landing and carpeted hallway. He kicks his off and Gerard makes the same movement behind him. Mikey walks down the hall to Ray’s bedroom, a fifty fifty chance that's where they'll be. Frank’s in the computer chair peeling more white strings from the rip at the knee of his jeans, and Bob is sitting on the end of the bed as a careful barrier so Frank doesn’t dive bomb a hug. Gerard and Frank have a hugs solve everything policy, something Bob and Ray more put up with than enjoy.

Gerard settles on a pile of clothes unconcernedly, leaving Mikey a small amount of room beside him. The lumpy pile crunches under his weight, obviously not just clothing. He raises half to his knees to fish under himself but when he doesn’t feel anything jagged or shattered immediately gives up. Gerard is starting already, and Mikey doesn’t want to miss the details.

His brother curls a hand around Ray’s dangling foot with all the air of a guidance counsellor putting a hand on a shoulder. Mikey bites down on the snicker that wants to come out at the idea of Gerard having any capacity for being restrained enough for career like that and silently listens to him ask “what happened?”

“She told me I was a fag.” Considering Bethany Nickolson, Mikey’s hardly surprised. Nothing is ever her fault. If she set someone on fire it would be their fault for being flammable. Ray probably couldn’t get it up because she’s a horrible person, so of course Ray’s a fag.

“What a cunt.”

Gerard throws Bob a bit of a look, then gets back on track. His normal, ranting track. “How is it okay to use the f-word when no one would think to use the n-word?”

“I couldn’t really tell her she was wrong.” It’s almost a whisper, but not low enough that Mikey can’t hear the shake in his voice.

Intellectually Mikey understands Ray being gay would go over as well with certain crowds as Frank being gay would. Emotionally he doesn’t. Mom and Dad and Grandma have never cared who either of them have brought home. Not that Mikey’s ever bothered with the commitment of taking someone all the way home; Gerard's the only one that gets to see his bedroom. Intellectually and emotionally is the difference between empathy and sympathy, and Mikey doesn’t want to be a pitying tool. As selfish as it is, he's grateful for Frank’s shitty position. Frank can deal with that part of the issue, Mikey won’t have to say anything.

Of course, nothing short of nuclear apocalypse could stop Gerard from giving his opinion.

“Like that matters! Slurs are slurs!”

Gerard’s shouting now, and Frank looks like he wants to make a flying leap over Bob to tackle-hug Ray. Mikey’s ready to intervene, but he doesn’t have to. Bob’s got it under control. “So between us we’re the school’s gay quota.”

The words make Frank sit up straight in the computer chair, a dangerous move as half the screws connecting the chair to the wheeled base have gone missing over the years. It wobbles dangerously, but Frank doesn’t notice as he demands “what?”

“Bi, bi, gay, gay, to be decided,” Bob explains, pointing to each of them in turn as he calls out their designation.

“Wait. Since when?”

Bob raises an eyebrow. Just one. It’s one of the abilities Mikey covets most. “You’re joking.”

“No, you are.”

“Nope. Pretty really really fucking gay. Me and Brian have been fooling around since we were like eleven.”

Gerard pipes up, “Me and Mikey too.”

Most of Mikey shuts down in system failure. In four words Gerard has created Mikey's own personal Chernobyl. A nuclear fucking leak of horror, and the vast majority of him just wants to collapse and scream. The one bit that's left, like the red flashing siren that lets everyone know shit is irreversibly fucked up blares cover it up. It's the only peice of advice his higher processing is offering, so he stares at Gerard a second, then snorts and rolls his eyes. Unfortunately Gerard’s face is as solemn as Mikey’s is scrunched, and everyone in the room knows Gerard can’t lie worth crap but Mikey lies somewhere between frequently and constantly. The silence turns darker as the three stare at them.

“Dude. Why would you-” Mikey cuts himself off. He doesn’t care now, Gerard will have plenty of time to explain when they’re alone forever in their basement, reviled by their best friends. Which is the best case scenario, really. One of them could warn their parents, or tell the cops. They’re not eighteen yet, they’d be fucked.

“Everyone else was being honest, I thought we should be.”

Jesus Christ. His fucking brother sometimes.

“Mikey?”

Gerard sounds worried. He should be. This is gonna be bad. Any minute now the shock will break like an eggshell, and the vitriol and disgust will pour out. He wants to escape, stalk from the room like he doesn’t care what they think. Hell, even sprinting because he really actually does and doesn’t want to lose them is an option. Except Gerard won’t follow him automatically. He’ll have to pull him up, and then everyone will look at his hand curled around Gerard’s wrist, and Mikey really can’t handle that.

“Is it fucked up that I’m not really surprised?” Frank breaks the silence, and Mikey frowns, a twitch of an expression, because what the fuck kind of question is that?

“I’m gonna say not surprised is less fucked up then them actually fucking.” Bob answers dryly.

“Mikey?” Gerard questions again, worry ratcheted up a level or five. Too bad.

Frank slides out of the chair, hitting the floor with a crunch. He’s got a handful of Gerard’s hair quicker than Mikey can blink. “Calm down. He’s not gonna fire you from being his brother. Or boyfriend, I guess. That’s fucking weird, by the way. He’s just being Mikeyish.”

If he’s being Mikeyish, than Gerard is being Gerardy, doing things he wants without thinking about the results, and Frank is being Frankish, ie a fucking asshole.

“Could we watch?”

“Frank!” Ray shoves him hard with his foot and the entire CD rack goes down with him. He doesn’t seem fazed.

“Well I’m just saying. I’m picturing it and I know I won’t be able to stop so I might as well actually see it, right?”

Okay, no. As it turns out he can leave without Gerard. Gerard’s got the car keys, and the licence for that matter, but Mikey has legs, has shoes. It’s better than being a freakshow performance.

***

Sometimes Mikey is so grateful for Pete Wentz’s existence he could cry. He won’t for a few reasons. Because Pete’s next door neighbour has just come out with a lawnmower and if he sees a boy sobbing on the Wentz front step the entire street will know within the next hour. Because he is a boy, and guys don’t cry unless they’re in horrible pain. Because if it’s Pete’s mom or dad or siblings that finally answer the door after the fifth doorbell buzz it’ll be weird. And because it would be cruel to cry in front of Pete and expect him to keep their rules. But he could.

Finally Mikey gets impatient and pulls out his phone. I’m here. He can hear the clatter of footsteps before the door opens and Pete steps to the side.

“I rang like five times, how loud did you have the metal?” It’s one of many things they don’t agree on; Mikey likes alternative and brit-pop, and Pete likes thrash and death metal and occasionally screamo.

“Watching a movie, actually. Dad dismantled the doorbell, the Girl Guides were driving him insane. You want a snack? I mean, there’ll be dinner after they get home if you’re staying that long-”

“I’m staying that long.”

“-but you can grab something anyway.”

“Not hungry.” He probably won’t have dinner ether, although they’ll at least have to sit at the table, the Wentzs are sticklers for that kind of thing. But if he tries to eat he’ll probably puke. He doesn’t have very good mechanisms for handling stress.

“Okay.” Pete doesn’t ask, just heads back up the stairs, expecting Mikey to follow.

He does, and it’s a nice quiet evening. Even the family dinner after the two youngest get home from gymnastics is quiet. The total conversation between them the entire dinner wouldn’t be five minutes with Gerard. Not that he’s thinking about Gerard tonight. His cell phone is off, and Pete’s is off and even if it wasn’t he wouldn’t admit to harbouring Mikey.

Back in Pete’s room Mikey doesn’t ask why dinner was silent and why they all escape to their rooms after, like elephants fleeing mice, even though he wants to. He never will either, though his curiosity piques every time he comes over. It’s the first rule of their friendship; no asking. Well, no serious questions. ‘What download should we watch next?’ is fine. The ban is for deep questions.

Mikey used to have to take a pill at school, before his prescription got changed. Since their school doesn’t have a full time nurse, it was up to the guidance counsellor to make sure he was swallowing his anti-batshit meds. Pete was in the guidance office a lot. When they finally started delaying going back to class by talking to each other, Pete explained that after seeing a therapist twice a week he just didn’t have enough emotional material to share with him. Mikey’s never been issues based crazy, just off balance in neuro-chemicals, but it wasn’t like he wanted to talk about his psychiatrist's prescription for leveling him out, so he’d agreed.

Not asking has continued to work well. It makes it safe, when sometimes safety is hard to find.

Mikey can just barely hear the sounds of the rest of the Wentzs heading for bed over the music Pete’s playing. Pete doesn’t acknowledge it until his father knocks on the door perfunctorily before opening it and sticking his head in. He informs them it’s nearly eleven. In the Wentz house that means something. Mainly that even with twice a week therapy, the Wentzs basically refuse to acknowledge their son has issues and needs accommodations.

Neither of them are very good at sleeping. It’s some combination of their fucked up brain chemistry, and their fucked up emotions, and the medication that’s supposed to fix them but comes with fucked up side effects. Mikey’s not sure what ratio his comes down to, but he’d rather stay up all night a few nights a week than switch meds to something that causes diarrhea or hair loss. He assumes Pete feels the same, though he’s never asked. It would be a serious question.

That’s not to say that their failure at sleeping happens in the same way. Their insomnia shows itself differently. Mikey’s comes in the form of not being able to fall asleep if he lays down before he’s exhausted, which is generally three or four in the morning. Pete attempts to sleep regular hours, but cannot for the life of him get more than two uninterrupted hours. It’s why he has a flashlight, a book, and a Gameboy in his nightstand drawer.

Tonight, as always, Pete wakes up a few times as Mikey’s reading his current novel; Hunger Games. Each time he wakes up Mikey flips back to where Pete’s bookmark is and reads to him in a whisper. Mikey’s not sure why they can’t attract attention, why he has to whisper and keep the light off. He won’t ever ask that either.

Eventually his eyelids start drooping. Carefully he edges to the end of the bed and stands, hoping he won’t wake Pete. Mikey kicks off his jeans and hoodie so he’s just in his underwear and socks then climbs in beside Pete. The socks are because he hates reusing an old pair the next morning after a sleepover. Having his toe patterns encrusted in is always irrationally creepy to him. Sleeping with the set on makes his feet a bit sweaty, but it avoids that creepy feeling. The underwear is due to another of their rules. No dick stuff. It’s more Pete’s rule, he’s got some kind of weird problem with dicks. Mikey follows it though. They have rules for a reason.

***

Mikey is not ready to go to school. Frank is in some of his core, age sorted classes, and Bob and Ray both have an elective with him. There’s nothing that any of them might want to say that he would ever want to hear. Unfortunately he doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Just as Mr Wentz has an evening routine, Mrs Wentz controls the mornings in 23 Azure Lane. After calling upstairs several times to make sure all three children and guest are awake and dressed, they come to the dining room to have a civilized breakfast. Then she herds them all out to the car, and there is absolutely no opportunity to tell her he’ll walk. Mikey has a brief respite of snickering when the eight year old has to sit in a booster chair, but most of the ride is trying to figure out what his next step is.

Thankfully he doesn’t have to go to classes. Hoover has a staggered absence reporting system. They call at one, three, eight, thirteen, and fifteen because if you miss sixteen without a reason along the lines of ‘caught typhoid’, you’ve failed the class. He can’t remember exactly how many classes he’s skipped -it’s written on the inside of his binder, but his binder is at home, along with all his other stuff- but the likelihood of being at those exact numbers is low.

And thankfully, he doesn’t have to spend the day hiding alone. He’s got Gabe Saporta, who skipped so much last year he lost three credits and refused to make them up over the summer, going to South America instead, so now he has to take three classes between six slots and graduate in January. And Gabe Saporta has friends who also skip more than they attend, or at least it seems like that sometimes.

They’re not dumb enough to stay in the cafeteria. It’s not every day that the vice principal comes to check up on those sitting to see if they have legitimate spares or if they’re skipping, but it happens. They have other reasons to avoid the area beyond fear of an authority scolding them anyway. Even if Ray and Bob and Frank don’t want anything to do with him anymore, not even to try to save him, Gerard at least will be looking for him. Mikey needs to be somewhere he won’t look. For their part, Travis and the rest of the people Gabe hangs out with like to do things more active and strange than play rummy or shithead for a period. It’s good for everyone that the school is convoluted and massive, a modern day Minotaur’s maze. It’s easy enough to find empty stairwells or strangely placed courtyards and think of random crap to do in them.

Like the vast majority of the time he spends with Gabe, the day is entirely about bullshitting. It’s fun, except for when it’s exhausting. It’s the main reason Gabe and sundry are his secondary group of friends, just one level up from acquaintances, instead of in the top tier of best friends. Though with Bob thinking he’s fucked up and Ray stunned speechless, it’s pretty damn likely he’ll have to integrate himself into Gabe’s group if he wants to be anything except alone. It won’t be that bad, fun usually outweighs exhausting.

He and Gabe and Ryland and Alex spend an hour and a half, nearly two periods, in the room beside the drama room that holds all the props, as well as the collapsible risers and the rigging equipment. Ryland is fascinating, as always, and his boyfriend -or at least Mikey thinks, he’s never actually asked, and neither of them have ever used the word within his earshot- is pretty good at keeping up. Gabe is a shitty actor, he can’t keep a straight face. Mikey’s pretty sure he sucks too, knows for a fact he's bad at projecting his voice, but he still enjoys it.

The period after lunch he and Gabe and Bill and Butcher walk to a smoke shop. Bill’s got a bad face for making people believe his fake ID and Mikey is nice enough to stand outside with him. They don’t miss much though; Butcher stands with his foot propping the door open as Gabe and the guy behind the counter have a conversation about what cigars are more fruity, and what’s more aged, and what brand of travelling case he would recommend.

Last period he follows Gabe and Victoria outside to listen to them create detailed sex lives of every person running around trying to either kick or desperately avoid kicking the soccer ball. It’s not gossip, there’s nothing true about Amber running a swinger’s club during the yearbook meetings, or Devon having a clone created entirely for receiving blowjobs. It’s just fun to listen to, except for the moments of panic when Victoria suggests Rainer is having sex with his stepmother.

Too soon it’s the end of the day. They’re halfway across the grounds but the bell that starts ringing is easily audible. Besides, the stream of teens in shorts and sweatpants heading back to the school is an easy clue. Gabe and Victoria nod their goodbyes and head for the student parking lot. Mikey stays on the field, paranoia suddenly shooting up a level. It’s the riskiest time of day, having to stand at the bus loop in front of the school waiting for Mr Wentz. He always picks up the kids first, and there’s no telling how long talking to Christian and Sarah’s teachers will take, but if they’re not waiting outside Pete’s dad will throw a fit. Mikey really doesn’t want to cause that for Pete, as much as he doesn’t want one of his former friends spotting him. With a sigh he stands and shoves his hands in his pockets. Worse come to worst, Pete will protect him. He’s really good -some would say too good- at punching people that need it in the face.

***

The second day Mrs Wentz drops him off at Hoover Mikey figures he has to go to class. He doesn’t particularly want to, but he has to. If any of the three were going to do anything like tell an adult, he would have been tracked down already. Really, it’s a miracle Gerard didn’t show up last night, pounding on the door. Of course, Mikey’s not sure if Gerard knows the address. That could account for it.

It’s the third day of wearing the same shirt. It’s fine, there’s no stains. He’s wearing Pete’s deodorant, and Pete’s hairspray is in his hair. As for school stuff, all his normal shit is in his backpack at home, but if he gets a spare notebook and pen from his locker he can fake it.

Frank is standing in front of his locker, an earbud in each ear. He looks bored, at least until he spots Mikey, then Mikey gets the Frank Iero version of the Willow Rosenberg Resolve Face. He takes a few sidesteps so Mikey can get into his locker, but doesn’t leave. Instead he starts talking, because that’s the kind of thing Frank is great at. “It’s not weird. I mean it is weird. But the kind of weird you can get used to, not the kind that has you running away and screaming forever.”

“It would be hard to run and scream eternally,” he replies neutrally.

“Look, I get it. Me and Jamia keep things quiet for certain reasons like you two did. I’d be pissed at her if she just told everyone. But Gerard is like freaking out. You haven’t been home in two days.”

Yeah, well, Mikey’s been freaking out too. He doesn’t answer Frank, just blinks into the depths of his locker. It’s been weeks since he’s opened it, he’s not like Ray who changes notebooks every period. The orange discarded on the top shelf is starting to get green.

“You know I’m honor bound as best friend to tell him you’re here today.”

“You know I won’t be showing up for lunch,” he returns.

“Hide and seek. That’s always fun.”

“Yeah, well.”

“You should probably go home though. You’ve missed your meds four times now.” Mikey would feel happy about the concern, but Frank immediately ruins it. “Hey, do you think-?”

Mikey resists the urge to punch him in the face, but only because following that route means he’ll be trapped in the office when Gerard hunts him down. That conversation has to be on equal footing. Gerard doesn’t need another advantage in an argument, he’s already got the passion of five people. “Yeah, all medication has an incest side effect, listed between drowsiness and nausea.”

“Okay, you’re obviously not done being Mikeyish. I’ll see you later.” Frank turns and walks away, and Mikey glares at his back. He’s not a goddamn adjective.

For some reason all his classes except for drama are note heavy, more so than usual. Possibly cosmic revenge for skipping yesterday. At the start of each class the teacher plunks down on their stool beside the overhead and starts to orate what they’ve either previously written, or are currently writing, depending on teacher. In all five cases, this continues straight to the end of the period. Normally Mikey would groan and wish for class discussion to waste away the hours with opinions and examples. Or even better, group projects in which they break into groups of four and turn their desks to each other. The rearrangement of furniture alone can kill five minutes. Today he’s happy for it. Note writing classes make it far more difficult to talk to your desk neighbours. The lack of opportunity is nice when he doesn’t actually want any words spoken. He doesn’t know what to say to any of them, or if they’ll have anything to say to him. Well, besides Frank. Mikey already knows his opinion on the matter.

The problem with that is that avoidance can’t last forever. As much as he might want it, it’s not a feasible long term strategy. He’s got to say something, to someone, eventually. Mikey decides in his last period that he’ll start with Ray. Not just because Ray is probably the best to talk about anything with, although that’s true. Generally speaking Gerard brainstorms about thirty ridiculous solutions for each problem, Bob doesn’t talk, and Frank is an asshole. He also wants to start with Ray because that’s got the kind of symmetry that he likes.

After the bell rings he stops by the cafeteria before heading out. Ray likes the school’s coffee, and while the staff frown when students buy it, they can’t actually refuse the order. It’s not as much a peace offering -he won’t feel bad about Gerard, won’t surrender- as it is apology that he hasn’t been around to help with post-Bethany. There's no question she's a cruel bitch, but Ray somehow really did like her. If he's still taking it hard, he deserves more than thirty seconds of comfort.

It takes all of five minutes to walk to Ray’s. He lives a block from the school. As far as Mikey can tell there’s pros and cons to it. When the classes have fundraisers with awesome candy, the Toros are likely to get more than their fair share. On the other hand, there’s constantly litter and cigarette butts dotting their lawn like freckles. Their garage gets more than its fair share of graffiti too.

This time the front door is locked. He could ring the doorbell, but then they’d have to have awkward conversation on the front step. Mikey’d rather have awkward conversation in the house, where any long pauses wouldn’t be as noticeable with commercials running in the background. The spare key is taped to the side of one of the decorative ten pound rocks the side of the house is lined with. It takes Mikey a minute to find the right one, and a minute longer to wipe the grit off the key so it can slide into the lock.

“Hi. I’m back.” Better to make a joke out of running away than being serious from the get go. “Where are you?”

“Back here.” There’s something off with Ray’s voice, no question about it. But it’s coming from his bedroom, so Mikey might as well head down the hallway and worry about it once they’re face to face.

“Hey, I brought you that coffee you like...what are you doing?” His greeting trails off and transforms as he opens the door and sees Ray splayed out on his bed. He’s had maybe fifteen seconds between Mikey taking off his shoes and calling out to opening the door, fifteen seconds to throw a blanket over himself or get a pair of boxers on. Rushed, but doable. He’s chosen not to do either, giving Mikey a lot to look at.

“Huh? Oooh, coffee. Greeeat. Thank you! What do you mean, what am I doing?” The you would know is unspoken but easily heard.

“Okay, that was a stupid question. It’s obvious what you’re doing, but... why are you doing it?” Ray’s got a hairbrush nestled against his hip, one of those thick handled Goody ones. Mikey doesn’t recognise it, so maybe he bought it for the occasion.

“Because I want to?”

“You...want to?” As far as Mikey’s concerned there’s a difference between an evil bitchy popular skank calling someone too good for her a fag, and said excellent person actually getting ready to penetrate himself.

“Yeeees?”

“Seriously, you want to?” Everyone can have whatever sexuality they want, it’s none of his business. But Ray really doesn’t read like a guy that wants to be fucked.

“Okay, yeah, maybe want is too strong a word- but it needs to be done, so yeah.”

To Mikey, object insertion to prove homosexuality never needs to be done. To be fair though, he’s got a live in boyfriend. What Ray really needs is an experienced friend. “And you didn’t think you could ask me to help you?”

“No? Uh. Sorry?”

“You’re an idiot. Now gimme that, come on.” He gestures for the hairbrush, not really expecting Ray to pass it to him. He’s right, he doesn’t. Instead Ray stands and crosses the room to drop it into his wastebasket. Clearly Mikey’s earlier guess was right, and it was an item bought with one purpose in mind.

Ray’s got one hand smoothing the top of his hair, the other in the vicinity of his erection, though it’s neither curled around it to keep it hard, or hovering over to hide it. Both would be pointless, probably. If Ray accepts his offer there’s no reason to be shy, and if he doesn’t there’s no reason to stay hard.

“Really, you don’t have to.”

Mikey rolls his eyes. He offered, didn’t he? Ray’s staring at him all ultra-genuine, an expression that Mikey’s not very good at handling, so he looks around aimlessly to avoid direct eye contact. There are no new posters up since the last time he was over, the floor is still covered in clothing and other teenage debris. The container sitting on the bed is immediately recognisable as Vaseline. He frowns slightly. Ray is still gazing sincerely. It’s off-putting.

“I know. Now gimme that,” he points. “Idiot.”

“Um, okay? Thank you.”

He can’t actually take the tub, both his hands are full. “It’s alright. Now sit down, and drink your coffee.”

“Right. Okay. Sitting down, drinking coffee. You’re the best, you know?”

“Oh believe me. I know.” He’s the best person in existence, obviously. All the best people cheat on their brother with their best friend.

Mikey chugs his by now lukewarm coffee, then tosses the empty cup on top of the brush. Ray’s nowhere near done, he’s savoring. Half to kill time, half to make a point he takes the container so he can redeposit it in the bathroom. Vaseline kills condoms, and he’s not having sex with someone that had sex with Bethany without protecting his dick. Mrs Toro’s drawer in the vanity has lubricant among the pink disposable razors and nubs of eyeliners. He figured it would, though he can’t blame Ray for not checking. The Toros have a pretty low comfort level with each other, and a pretty high TMI level. Not as bad as the Suarez’s, if Alex’s tale about his dad being unable to buy pads or toilet paper is true, but still a lot more constrained than Mikey’s own mom and dad and grandma.

“So you want me to fuck you? Literally, me fucking you?”

Ray shrugs, gaze locked on the dregs of coffee. “How else am I supposed to know if I’m bi?”

Mikey can think of a few ways running from trying to kiss a guy to jerking off trying to think about guys. But the scene he walked in on made it really damn clear Ray’s going to do this whether he’s here or not, and at least if he’s here there’s someone to put his fingers in his mouth, or pull on his hair, or whatever Ray likes. Surely he likes something. You can’t date Bethany for three months and not have sex. Shit, you can’t date Bethany twenty minutes and did not have sex with her.

“You want to be on your back, or your side, or-? Do you care?”

Ray shifts on the sheets, fabric rustling under him. He’s not exactly practicing hospital corners. “The first, I guess?”

“Okay, cool.” Mikey peels his shirt off, and his jeans follow a second later. Ray’s staring resolutely at the ceiling, knees up and feet planted. It seems too mechanical, but he’s not sure how to fix it. The best he can do is instead of going straight for the goods he settles on top of him, between his legs. Ray stiffens for a second, but Mikey knows how to kiss if he does say so himself, and soon enough Ray’s arching up, hands on his back holding him for a long sweep of tongue.

“I’m gonna start now. Tell me if you want to stop, ‘kay?”

Ray’s already pretty loose. Evidently he did do something in those fifteen seconds; pull his fingers out and wipe them dry. Mikey slips one finger inside him easily, wriggling further down Ray’s body so he can have a better angle. Spraining a wrist by fingering someone would be really awkward to explain. It’s not until his third that Ray is clenching down. Even then it’s just involuntary reflex, Mikey’s sure of it. He couldn’t be watching Ray’s face any harder if it had Empire Strikes Back projected onto it. He’s sure he could see hesitation if it came up. But it doesn’t, Ray’s legs just slowly fall more and more apart.

“I think you could fuck me now. If you wanted.”

Mikey laughs, literally laughs like he’s watching Comedy Central. “Right, because I’m gonna walk away now.” Thankfully Ray sees the humor in it and returns the chuckle.

It’s hard to get the condom on with one hand. He hasn’t had to use one in a while, he and Gerard don’t bother. It goes on just before he’s about to give up, and then he’s rising to his knees. Ray stiffens the first time he thrusts in. Mikey does his best to not move his lower half as he bends forward to kiss Ray. Better his lips than Ray biting his own.

After a minute Ray’s legs come up and curl around him. They’re hairy, way more than his own. He can’t grow a goatee worth shit either, but Ray has to shave every day. They feel different on his back than the curly hair that keeps sticking to his sweaty face does.

Mikey can feel it when Ray locks his ankles. He’s suddenly being held in place. He’s fucked Gerard in this position dozens of times, but it’s never felt like this. His cock is being gripped by Ray’s ass, his ankles are holding his lower back in place, his hands are on his shoulders. Even Ray’s mouth is on him, forcing him to stay and breathe through his nose. Being dominated, even in a vanilla sense, is new and a total turn on.

He comes, nearly biting a chunk of Ray’s tongue. Ray’s powerful calves won’t let him pull away, so he stays in place, slowly softening as he works Ray towards orgasm. Mikey’s pretty proud that Ray stayed hard the whole time. The first few times he bottomed he didn’t get hard at all. Then Gerard learned how to jerk him off while he was fucking him, and things got better.

He uses a corner of Ray’s blanket to wipe him up afterward. It’s not like his blanket’s going to notice. Mikey’s sure it would already be pure white under UV light. He throws the tied condom in the general direction of the garbage bucket and flops down beside Ray. They’ve still got stuff to talk about.

“So as much fun as that was, I really came over because I wanted to say sorry for not being part of team cheer up Ray.”

“I’m cheery. A bit terrified because hey, officially bi, but cheery.”

“Okay, but I’m still sorry. I know you loved her and-”

“Dude, I didn’t love her. I love you guys. My mom loves my dad. My priest loves God. All that’s love, not having awesome sex with a girl that hated my friends.”

“She did?” Mikey’s not surprised, really. Not everyone can understand their awesomeness.

“Dude, she didn’t even like me. She just has a hair fetish. This one time she started off sitting on my face, you know, so I could eat her out, and ended up at the headboard, dragging herself over my hair. It was weird, man. But she’s a hard person to say no to. She goes kinda psychotic.”

“I promise I’ll never jerk off on your hair.”

“Jerk off on my hair, whatever. Just don’t take a clump of it and use it to like masturbate with. That’s where the line is, not the come shot.”

“Noted.”

“But you can’t do this again anyway. You should go home Mikey, Gerard’s freaking out.”

It’s not the first time he’s heard it. He’s no more inclined to take advice from a newfound fag still sweaty and sticking to the sheets than he is to a short asshole in thrift store clothes at a bank of lockers. And then Mikey realises he’s being a bitch, and is suddenly grateful he hasn’t said anything out loud.

“You don’t care if I go home and do the exact same thing I just did?”

“What, prevent Gerard from using beauty products as sex toys? Mikey, it’s none of my fucking business. It’s obviously consensual, otherwise you would have been relieved that people found out, not terrified someone would try to rescue you. And as long as it’s consensual, what do I care?”

“You’re a good man, Ray Toro.”

“I try. Now get up and get dressed. I’ll give you a ride back to your house.”

The ride is quiet, except that it isn’t. They don’t really talk, it’s just Metallica playing loud and rough. Mikey hums along. He knows the tune, just not all the words. Not every Metallica song is Whiskey In The Jar. When Ray stops in front of his house he waves bye and starts up the sidewalk. Ray doesn’t wait to watch him get in safely because he’s not ninety.

He carefully bypasses his parents. They won’t be pissed he didn’t come home, he and Gerard get a lot of freedom compared to some people Mikey knows, and they give him even a bit more as compensation for being crazy. But they’ll ask why he needed to be away, if he wants to talk to someone not them about it. The answer is always no, and he doesn’t feel like repeating himself for the hundredth time.

Gerard’s in his bedroom. He puts down his sketchbook when Mikey walks in. He recognises the action, he’s about to open his mouth for a interrogation or a rant. He wouldn’t drop the pad if it was just a hello. Mikey decides to head him off.

“I had sex with Ray.” Gerard’s hurt, Mikey can see it on his face. Mikey means for him to be. It’s not like both of them haven’t traded handjobs with others, but they’ve always talked about it first. Before now, Mikey had never even considered messing around without asking. It’s a violation of trust about equal to his brother’s failure.

“Why?”

“What, you can do things without asking but I can’t? Maybe I figured since they all already think I’ll sex with anyone, I might as well.” That hurts him too. It makes him a bad person that he wants it to, but he does.

Gerard looks at him for a second, avoids looking at him for several more. Then he grabs his pack of cigarettes from under a clutter of papers on his desk. Without another word he storms upstairs, presumably to smoke.

Mikey knows he’s spent the last two days avoiding this, but now that it’s Gerard avoiding, it’s infuriating. He follows Gerard upstairs and outside to the front step. It’s a bad place to argue this, but oh well.

“If you’re going to be a cunt, go away,” Gerard mutters around the cigarette.

He must be really fucked up if he’s using that as a derogatory word. “You’re the one-”

“Go away, asshole!”

“Okay, fine. You’re not just anyone.” The look on his brother’s face is too much, he has to backtrack. That doesn’t mean he’s done being pissed off. “But it was seriously shitty of you to tell them.”

“I just wanted-”

“I know, and it kinda doesn’t matter. You know all the things that could happen if they freaked out?” It makes Mikey fucking sick to think about it.

“But they didn’t, Mikey.”

“You can’t do that again. Not until we’re both eighteen. Not even then, unless we talk about it. We could have been so fucked. I was so scared Gee.” And Gerard is swooping in for a hug, and if he was still pissed he’d shove him away. Instead he collapses into his brother’s arms, letting him enfold him. Gerard smells like smoke and Sharpies. It’s comforting, and a bit of a turn on. “Let’s go back downstairs.”

“Kay. Mikey, I’ve missed you.”

Mikey’s missed him too. It’s why when Gerard turns to go in, cigarette still burning and wasting in the metal ashtray that always sits on the edge of the step, Mikey reaches out and grabs the back of his pants by the studded belt. If anyone is looking it’s maybe a little weird, but not enough so to really give it a second thought. Mikey needs to. Holding on to Gerard is grounding, and after four missed pills Mikey needs grounding.

***

On Friday Frank, Ray, and Bob follow them home from school. Technically they could all fit in one car, Frank is tiny enough that his bitching about being in the middle seat is purely for bitching sake, not because he finds it cramped or confining at all. As usual, they decide against that.

Ray doesn’t get a lot of opportunity to drive. Living so close to the school he’s expected to walk, and really, it would be stupid if he didn’t. The student parking lot fits approximately ten cars, so anyone who’s not at school first thing has to park on the surrounding streets. If Ray did try to drive to school he’d probably end up parking on the end of his own street, instead of just keeping the car in the garage. Going to their house is an excuse to drive Ray can jump on. So Mikey and Gerard go in Gerard’s car, and the others walk to the Toros so they can use Ray’s.

It’s a little weird. It’s the first time they’ve been in a group since Tuesday’s bombshell. It’s not as weird as it could be though. No one asks any stupid questions. In fact there’s barely any conversation at all. They just watch Zombieland and Fido, the variety packs of Fruit By The Foot getting tossed around as the movies roll. Mikey gets the occasional glance, like they’re wondering when he’s going to leap over to the armchair and start dry humping Gerard’s leg. It’s not that bad though, not nearly bad enough to complain about. On and off glancing is a lot better than nearly all the situations he’d created in his head.

As always, Bob needs to be home for his nine-o-clock babysitting gig. Ray has to drive him and Frank wants to hitch a ride. Mikey himself has a great reason to leave; there’s a beach style food concession stand on the way that sells great home churned ice cream. Gerard of course doesn’t come with, he’s got some kind of crazy logic where ice cream is not worth walking to get it. Mikey fully expects Gerard to be conked out when he comes back. His horror movie night naps are always late.

Twenty minutes later Mikey is walking up the sidewalk, noticing three things. The first is that it’s starting to get cold. He would have been better off wearing a hoodie, but at least now he can cuddle under a metric ton of blankets with Gerard under the pretense of warming up. The second is that his cone must have had a tiny hole in it, because his hand is sticky. Lastly, for absolutely no reason that Mikey can figure out, Frank is sitting on his front step.

Absently, Mikey thinks for probably the fiftieth time they really need to get him a key already. When he gets his own apartment with Gerard after they both graduate, Mikey will definitely provide Frank and Ray and Bob will illegal spare keys. Even if they don’t stay in state, they’ll always have a place to crash, as long as he has a say in it.

The small cluster of cigarette butts beside Frank prove he’s either been sitting there a while or he’s really anxious. Anxiety and boredom are the two axes of Frank’s smoking graph, quantity peaking with either emotion. Though he doesn’t have one in his hand at this point. Instead he’s curling forward on himself, kneeing his own stomach. One hand is peeling the hard plastic nub off his purple and black checkered shoelaces.

He looks up when he hears Mikey’s footsteps, but doesn’t budge to give Mikey enough room to sit beside him. Instead he just starts talking. “When I said it was weird I just meant it was gonna take a while to get used to. Not that it was freaky or anything.”

“Uh, okay. You don’t really need to tell me we’re not disgusting. Your lack of spontaneous vomiting during the movies proved that.” Frank’s need to expound on the topic is getting old. If it continues much longer, he’ll have to redirect it to Gerard. He caused this, after all.

“It’s more than that. I can’t stop thinking about it. Totally literally can’t stop thinking about it. Do you know how many times a day I’ve beat off to the idea of you two together this week? I don’t think you’re actually gonna guess, so I’ll tell you. My average is five. My knees are in the way, but just so you know? Hard again.”

“Uh-” Mikey’s never really been the object of someone’s arousal before. Been looked at while jerking off, yeah. He and William had a mutual masturbation thing going on for a while. But not as a cause for a race your bedroom to crank one out episode. He doesn’t know what to say.

“So you know when you get earwormed, and some people need to listen to a bunch of other songs to drown it out, and some people need to listen to the full song to give it it’s moment to shine?”

“Yeah?” It’s a non-sequitor, but it’s more comfortable than talking about being the reason for his jerking off. Mikey’s got actual opinions on earworming, why it happens for some songs and not others.

“Well, let’s just say I don’t need to have sex with a bunch of random guys right now. Fulfilling my imagination-worm will work much better. Shit, it’ll probably be the only thing to get me out of this loop.”

So, not a non-sequitor then. “You’re saying you want to fuck me and Gerard.”

“No. I’m saying I want to watch, so I can finally stop imagining what it might look like. It’s driving me insane.”

Before Mikey can think of the best way to say fuck off -or wonder about the fact that part of his brain thinks maybe he shouldn’t- a harsh puff of wind rattles through. “I’m cold. Do you wanna go in and watch Dawn or something? I’m going in either way.” If Frank wants to sit and smoke he can, it’s his choice.

Frank follows him inside. Mikey’s surprised that Gerard hasn’t just keeled over on the couch. He’s not even asleep sitting up. One might think Gerard hasn’t moved in the time he’s been gone, but that’s not true. His dull pencil crayons are sharper than they were scattered beside him on the couch, but there are no thin spirals of wood so he’s at least wandered to a trashcan at some point. He’s not asleep, just entranced with his art. Mikey sits on the opposite arm, and Frank takes one of the recliners. Neither of them get acknowledgement.

For a minute or two Mikey thinks it’s going to be okay, the same as it was with the whole group. But as the credits start rolling Frank’s not watching Shaun and Ed, he’s staring at them. Mikey can only make it Shaun and Ed bickering about what records to decapitate zombies with before he pauses it. “Stop it. We’re not fucking today and we’re not going to talk about stuff until you’re not staring at us. So pay attention and watch the movie or go home.”

“To be fair, I don’t need to watch to know what’s going on.”

Frank probably has a point. All three of them know every line of dialogue from can I get any of you cunts a drink to David, kill the Queen, and every action from the kid with the soccer ball to Ed on a chain. But with Frank conceding any ground is equal to losing, so he doesn’t say anything.

Frank makes it to Barbara dying before Mikey has to pause it again to make a point. Instead of purposely turning back to the tv, Frank flips him off and stomps upstairs.

Mikey’s not sure how much attention Gerard has been paying. He can get pretty lost in his art. It’s why it comes as a bit of a surprise when he asks without taking his gaze away from his quickly moving hand, “what was that about?”

“Frank’s brain is stuck on us fucking. He wants to watch us to get it out of his system.” Mikey hesitates for a second, not sure how to tell his brother he wouldn’t really mind. In the end he settles on just “do you think it would be weird?”

“Yes. Very fucking weird.”

Mikey’s neutral, but he doesn’t push.

***

Four days later Mikey’s not so sure. At least, he thinks while it might be weird to have sex with Frank watching, not doing it is making things much weirder. He won’t stop staring at them. His gaze is about forty five percent Gerard, forty five percent Mikey, and five percent other things, like overhead notes, and streetlights and computer screens. Mikey’s starting to believe what Frank said the evening Gerard forced them out; that he’ll never stop thinking about it. He doesn’t want to lose Frank when he eventually snaps. He just needs to convince Gerard it’s the only real option.

Mikey makes a flow chart in his head. It would be easier to remember everything if it was written out, but inevitably Gerard would find it. A lot of it’s just common sense though. Or Gerard sense, at least. And regardless of how complicated with possible answers it gets near the end, it starts with one question.

He attacks Wednesday after school. Gerard’s sprawled on the couch, watching Teal’c kick some ass as Mikey struggles through trying to care enough to balance the chemical equations on his handout. It’s easy to put his homework binder down at the commercial of the rerun and kick him lightly in the thigh to get his attention. “Remember the time we tried spanking, because it was really hot in that one porn?”

“Yeah?”

“And how it, like, really sucked, but whatever because at least we tried?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to try showing off.”

“What?”

The word is ambiguous, but the tone is easy to decipher. Gerard’s not horrified or disgusted, just confused. Luckily his flow chart has a spot for confusion. Confusion means expanding.

“I want to show someone what we’re like. And because we’re us it’s either some random stranger from a bar or Frank.”

“Mikey, I-”

“Look, I just want to try it. It might suck, but I’d be happier that we tried it than not knowing.”

He’s not lying to Gerard. It might not be his real primary reason, but it’s all true, in a way. He’s never had a real urge to show off, but not every porn star is in it for the money. Some must just like being watched. He wants to understand that.

Gerard’s biting his lip. He’s clearly not sold yet. Mikey prods him with his foot again, this time a more caring stroke with the arch of his sole. “What’s in your head?”

“It’s just. Okay, so we know if it doesn’t work we just laugh and shake it off. But what does Frank do?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s not gonna work, since it’s not something new. It’s something old in front of another person. We know how to get each other off, that’s really not new.”

“But if it doesn’t? If it’s weird and we can’t stay hard or something?”

“I dunno. I bet Frank cracks Viagra jokes for a while, then gets over it. I can’t really see it ending really badly, no matter what.”

“Okay. You ask him though. It’s your maybe kink.”

Mikey smirks. “That’s fine. You can buy the eventual butt plug then.”

“That’s not my-”

“Don’t even try it. I’ve seen your porn, and your Literotica bookmarks.”

Mikey texts Frank. we decided yes for watching.

Frank’s reply is instantaneous. be there in 20

And he is. The doorbell rings approximately twenty five minutes later an Mikey stampedes upstairs to answer it before Mom does. Frank is redfaced and gasping, and there’s no flash of headlights driving away. Mikey watches him pant for a second before asking “did you run all the way here?”

“Didn’t want to give you a chance to change your minds.”

When they get downstairs Gerard’s sitting on the edge of his bed, just in his underwear. Mikey gives a quick head nod to the corner of the room for Frank before straddling his brother. His clothes will come off soon, but for now he just needs to be kissing him.

He breaks away to the sound of rustling. When he turns to see what it is, Frank is taking his shirt off, massive yellow bruise from crashing into the corner of the desk when Ray shoved him last week.

“You don’t have to get naked. You’re not joining, just watching.”

“I know that. I’m sweaty and stinking from running. It’s not a turn on.”

“Fine then.” Mikey can’t smell anything, but it’s not worth it to argue. Not with Gerard tense under him, getting stiffer -in a bad way- with each passing moment.

“You want to fuck me, Gee? Or you want me to fuck you?” Mikey doesn’t care, he just needs a stronger connection.

“I don’t care. Just, god-”

Mikey pushes down on his shoulder until he’s lying awkwardly on the bed. Gerard readjusts himself as Mikey stands to strip and grab the lube. He eases Gerard open to the twin pants of Gerard and Frank. He’s sure if he looked in the corner he’d see Frank jerking off. They didn’t talk about that, but Mikey’s not in the mood to stop him now. In fact it makes it hotter, that he needs to, because of them.

Mikey thought he’d either only be able to focus on Frank being there, or he’d get so wrapped up in Gerard he’d forget their guest altogether. Neither happens. From the moment he enters Gerard to the moment he pulls out to come on his brother’s stomach and let his fluids mix with what’s already there he’s aware of Frank, but doesn’t actively think about him. Kissing Gerard to get him through their slow separation he can hear Frank groaning through his own orgasm. He’s happy he’s satisfied, in an unconcerned sort of way. He thinks he might care more if Frank had been more involved, but he’s not really sure how he feels about the idea. Watching and joining in are two very different parties, and it’s not even just about what he would attend. Gerard counts for just as much, maybe more.

“Thank you? I dunno, am I supposed to say thank you? Because for sure if so, but maybe you don’t want to talk. Or maybe-”

Mikey puts Frank out of his misery. “Shut up and go put The Crow on. We’ll be out in a second.”

Frank double checks his zipper then exits, leaving them to talk. Mikey doesn’t for a second, just kisses Gerard’s temple, down where muttonchops would be.

“Fun?” He wants to say it with a period, but for Gerard’s sake he uses a question mark.

“Yeah.”

“Good. You go to the bathroom, I’ll go save him from his own brain.”

“Deal.”

***

The next morning Bob meets him at his locker. It’s not the best timing for witty conversation; all Mikey wants to do is swear. The binder he just tossed in his locker, not needing it until the afternoon, promptly proceeded to explode. Or, technically the O-rings just triggered open unnecessarily. But the bottom of his locker is an explosion of lined paper, half with notes that have a specific order. It’s going to be a massive pain in the ass to put back together.

Mikey’s kneeling, cramming the sheets of paper willy-nilly into the front compartment of his backpack when Bob decides to move beyond a nodded greeting. “So, I don’t know what Frank told you to make you agree that it was fine. But pretend I just said that.”

“You mean?” He can’t imagine Bob would mean anything else, but Mikey still wants confirmation.

“Yeah, I want in on the live porn too. With optional touching, depending.”

Mikey can only think of one reason he’d personally say no. “Isn’t that going to fuck up your and Brian’s relationship?”

Bob shakes his head. “It’s not a relationship. We’re friends who fuck, and next year if I get into the same college he’s in, we’ll fuck often. But right now it’s rarely.”

“But still. You’re friends that fuck, don’t you think you should ask him what he thinks?”

“Nah. There’s no bullshit about faithfulness. He’s in a house owned by the frat, like six guys live there. I’m pretty sure they all jerk off together. Or at least that’s what Bert says whenever he gets the phone first. All I’m saying is we could have a nice circle jerk too. I know Frank has already seen you. We could not invite Ray if you think he’d be weird?”

Mikey snorts. “I already fucked Ray.”

Bob looks a him for a second. “Huh. Did you fuck Frank?”

“No.”

“Good. I’d’ve had to kick his ass if he hadn’t told me.”

Mikey doesn’t really know what to say. This has kind of come out of left field.

“I mean, say no if you don’t want to. Frank made it seem like the best thing ever, all this about how much he wanted to suck you both, you know him. But that’s Frank, not you, so.”

Mikey can’t help but think about yesterday. It makes him want to grind against someone. He’s suddenly overcome with a need to push Bob against the locker and unzip the fronts of their jeans and rut against each other until they both come on each others’ shirts. It’s been a while since he and Gerard just rubbed against each other; normally at least one of them wants to fuck. Mikey thinks it would be nice- No. Not nice. It would be really fucking hot to shove his cock against Bob’s again and again until he groaned in orgasm.

The sad truth though is that frottage is not really an option at noon in a public high school. And besides, he needs to ask Gerard. He says as much. “If it were up to me, yeah. But the whole point is there’s Gerard too. And I don’t know if he’ll want to again. I need to ask him.”

Bob shrugs, like he’s not proposing a threesome, which is more than even Frank had the balls to. “Good enough for me. You talk to him and if he’s cool with it, we can hang out tonight or Thursday.”

***

Mikey can’t see Bob being so excited he’d sprint his way over. Bob really isn’t an excitable person. He’s not boring or lame, he’s just not like Frank. Still, there’s nothing good on tv and he’d love to break up the routine of watching a random downloaded sci fi show -Gerard’s somewhere in Stargate SG1, but Mikey isn’t really paying attention, the Wraith are way more interesting than Goa’uld- with having some good sex. He’s just got to get Gerard on board.

“Bob wants to watch us too.”

“That’s nice for him.” Gerard barely looks up from his sketchbook. His tone is fucking obnoxious. Mikey’s heard it before, just not usually focused at him.

“Why are you being a dick?”

“I don’t like them thinking you’re theirs.”

He doesn’t buy that that’s the real reason. If it was, Gerard wouldn’t be so quick to admit to it. But he might as well cover that, before it becomes an actual issue, a real thought in his brother’s head.

“Gerard, I love you, okay? Dumbass.” He’s not actually mad, it’s just emphasis. Like talking with your hands. “But did you like Frank moaning in the background because were so hot? Because I did. I want that. I don’t need it if it bothers you, but I’m not gonna lie and say I don’t want it.”

“Just... Just love me most. Okay?”

There’s real emotion in that. It’s still not the primary issue, but it’s obviously been on his mind since last night. Mikey tosses his lap blanket to the gritty carpet and dives across the couch for a hug. If he couldn’t tell already, Mikey’d know Gerard needs it by the way he doesn’t think to complain about his pages getting wrinkled. “Dumbass,” he whispers into his shoulder. “They’re my best friends. You’re my brother. It’s no contest.”

They hug for a while. Mikey doesn’t really feel like letting go, and thankfully there’s no reason to. It’s more innocent than other things. No one ever comes downstairs, apart from the guys. Dad calls the basement the cesspool. But even if someone did, they wouldn’t have to pull away and frantically check their clothes. Everyone hugs, not just incestuous lovers.

Eventually though Mikey pulls away, with intent to start the exact same conversation. It’s okay if Gerard doesn’t want to, he just doesn’t want Gerard to lie about the reasons he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t even have to speak. Staring gets it out of him.

“I want to fuck Bob,” Gerard blurts out. He rushes to clarify. “Not as revenge for you fucking Ray or anything. You know I’m not like that. I mean-”

Mikey interjects smoothly, “Bob’s got a nice ass.”

The instant expression change is almost funny. “No shit, right? I mean last sleepover he only wore underwear. How are you supposed to not look at him crawling into the sleeping bag?”

Mikey doesn’t actually remember looking, but sometimes a lie is better than truth. “It was a nice ass.” It’s not really a lie. He can’t imagine Bob looking bad to make him eat his words. And it was only this morning that he wanted to rut against him.

“Seriously.”

It’s strange. Ten minutes ago all he wanted was for Gerard to be cool with the idea of Bob watching, maybe lending a finger or two. Now that permission is all but guaranteed, Mikey wants more. The scene hits his imagination hard; full audio and visual like a pay per view porn channel just unscrambled in his brain. He knows that Gerard would be happy, can see it in his mind’s eye. He just needs to make it happen.

“I’ll tell him we said cool. Explain what the Jaffa’s problem is, again?” No sense in telling Gerard about his plans now. He’d only be giving him the chance to worry about it.

***

“Anyone wanna declare a theme?”

“I vote climate change has fucked our shit up.”

“So that’s The Day After Tomorrow, but what’s the second?”

“Dude, there’s a ton of it. Volcanoes in New York, Twister from nineteen eighty whatever. Check Wikipedia.”

As Ray goes for the computer and Bob rips open a bag of dill pickle chips, Mikey settles beside Gerard. Unlike last week, no one even looks at them. Seems like they really have gotten used to the idea. Which is good, but it could be better. Mikey doesn’t just want them accustomed to it. He wants them interactive.

It’s not particularly a flash of inspiration. He’s had it in mind since Bob approached him, cemented it after talking to his brother. Still, it takes a bit of a mental push to get him actually twisting on the couch. There’s a difference between thought and action, and Mikey’s not always the best at picking which one to go with.

Step one is leaning in and placing a light kiss on Gerard’s lips. It’s a pg thing, risque for the participants, not for the action of teeth and tongue. There’s no question though that Frank and Bob are adjusting subtly for a better view - as much as either of them do subtle. It gives Mikey the push he needs to lean even further, past Gerard to Bob. Only an elbow in Gerard’s thigh keeping him from falling flat on his face. Gerard takes the skin padded sharpness stoically, probably figuring Mikey’s going for a handful of Bob’s chips. A month ago that would have been true. Today he aims for loftier goals. He sucks Bob’s bottom lip, catching his snake bite ring, trying to ignore the fact that he doesn’t actually like dill flavoring. Only when he’s sure everyone in the room is captivated does he pull back and go back to his brother. Rather than shuffle backwards for a better position after stretching too far to reach Bob, Mikey just swings himself to straddle Gerard’s lap. The kiss is a bit awkward; Gerard’s not participating and it’s hard to position himself so his hand on Gerard’s junk can be easily seen while still actually putting pressure on it. But step three isn’t about getting Gerard off, not really. If all goes well, Bob or Ray or Frank can do that ten minutes from now.

When he’s done with the surprise assault on Gerard’s mouth everyone got a different look on their face. Gerard is puzzled but sly, like he’s quickly figuring out why he just did that. Frank’s tongue is on his lips like he wants to suck them off. Bob’s grinning, obviously happy Mikey took him up on his idea.

And Ray. Well, Ray looks horrified. “What the fuck Mikey?”

He figured Ray would react strongly, but he thought there’d be at least some hint of arousal. Instead he just sounds terrified. That’s not good. Shame for wanting something, Mikey knows how to deal with. Fear is harder to push away. Gerard was never actually scared, not even when they first started; that emotion was always Mikey’s. He starts, not sure how he’ll finish his sentence. “Ray-”

The boy in question shakes his head and bolts.

Bob sighs, a loud sound in a room that’s nearly pulsing with tension. “I’m not pissed, but I need to go catch him. He’s my ride.”

Mikey sighs and decides not to follow the thuds beside him on the stairs. Ray’s a thoughtful kind of guy. He just needs some time to actually think about what just happened, and he’ll figure out he’s not actually freaked out by it. Frank doesn’t follow either. He’s a guy that knows what he’s good at; blowjobs, playing guitar, making people laugh, and a hundred other things besides. But calming down Ray Toro is not one of his skills. If anything it’s the opposite. And of course Gerard doesn’t go. His brother doesn’t do consequences.

“I really wasn’t expecting that of you. But maybe I should have.”

Mikey shrugs. Maybe Gerard should have. It’s the logical follow through to the mess of relationships that have occurred, and that could occur in the future. All together is better than splintering off in a dozen different combinations.

A minute later Bob’s back in the basement. “Yeah, he just took off. Now which one of you assholes is going to give me cab fare, since you fucked over my normal transport?”

Mikey isn’t giving him anything. This is at least partially Bob’s fault.

***

Mikey knows he has to talk to Ray separately. Really, he should talk to them all separately. But he has to talk to Ray, he’s by far first priority. Frank and Bob can handle being asked difficult questions on the spot. In the same situation, Ray will almost certainly feel like it’s some kind of attack. That would be getting them off on the wrong foot. If there even is a foot. He thinks there is. Mikey really wants there to be, and he knows Gerard thinks there is. But he can’t be certain unless he talks to Ray and Bob and Frank. It’s not just up to them.

Mikey meets Ray at his locker between second and third period. He always goes to his locker then, to switch out gym clothes to textbooks. When he sees Mikey he flinches. Literally jerks away slightly before he realises what he’s doing. That’s just not cool at all.

“Come on. Let’s talk.”

“I don’t think-”

Mikey interrupts. “Remember how Mikeyish Frank thought-”

“Frank’s an idiot.”

“Granted. Remember how he said all the frustration apparently all of you were feeling about me ducking out? Well, let’s talk, before he has to talk to you.” Confident that his comment will be seen for the threat it is, Mikey turns and heads down the hall.

“Where are you going? You can’t walk away, you came up to me!”

“I can’t talk about this in the middle of the hallway.” He shouldn’t talk about it at school at all, but he’s already waited the weekend for Ray to get open-minded, which clearly was a massive waste of time. He’s not going to waste even more.

The best privacy is in the middle of the volleyball pit outside. The basketball court always has a cluster of students, and the benches on either side of the baseball diamond are also well used, not to mention the front lawn. The volleyball court is guaranteed deserted. No one ever goes there, not even for super secret drug dealing. The sand is the block’s litter box. He gets a look or two as he stomps into the middle of it, but no one says anything, and no one is close enough to listen in. Mikey doesn’t really care what others think, as long as no one can hear them talk.

“So. About Friday-”

“Mikey-” Ray comes to a stop. His head is drooped and he fingers his hair, trying to push it back behind his ear. It defies confinement nearly immediately, falling back over his face. It’s such a projection of confused puppy that Mikey’s not even surprised at the next words, even though they’re stupid. “What was that? I don’t-”

“That was the start of all of us doing what we should be doing.”

“What? Each other?”

Ray exclaims it like it’s a joke. Mikey answers seriously. “Yeah.”

“I don’t get it. Bob and Brian, you and Gerard. You’re all dating. Exclusively.”

“Not really. Bob and Brian are friends with benefits on hiatus, due to Brian being two hours away. And if you thought we were exclusive, why’d you let me fuck you?”

Ray slouches even more and retucks his hair, but seems grateful when it covers his face a second later so he doesn't have to look at Mikey. His pathetic quotient goes up about a thousand degrees as he replies, “moment of selfishness, I guess,” like selfishness is the worst thing in the world.

“Well good news. You can be selfish all the time. Me and Gerard want an orgy.”

“You’re trying to tell me you want five in a bed?”

Mikey’s head immediately supplies and the little one said. He doesn’t say it, he’s smarter than making a joke right now, but he does think it. “Well, ignoring the fact that no bed would fit five people, yes? Kind of? I don’t know how long term it’s gonna be. Not just the whole college thing, although that’ll royally fuck things, probably. I mean like maybe we’ll all do it once and it won’t work. But everyone wants to try except you, and I think you do too.”

“I don’t know.”

Christ. Since when has love -or at least intense like- ever been about knowing? “You don’t have to know. Just think about it.” He stops, then starts when he remembers the next most important part. “And if the answer is no, say no, don’t be a dick that starts avoiding us. That would be fuckin’ bullshit, and you know it.”

“I won’t.”

If Mikey was someone else -namely Frank, or probably Gerard- he would press for specifics, regardless of any outside factors. But he’s not, and the warning bell is ringing. “You wanna talk more, or you wanna go to class?”

“Class is good.”

“‘Kay.”

***

“So I ripped this show I haven’t seen before, you guys wanna watch it after school?”

“Yeah.”

“Kay.”

Gerard shrugs. “Basement’s always open.”

It’s not quite the uber-agreement he might be looking for, but Ray takes it. He slides into his spot on the cafeteria bench without trying to extract more enthusiasm with hinted details or a synopsis.

A few hours later they’re sprawled over the couches. Michael Novotny starts to narrate the scene and almost like doing the wave four sets of eyebrows raise.

Mikey speaks first, everything condensed into one word. “Really.”

“What?” Ray says. It’s a weak denial. Maybe a stranger would buy it, but everyone in the room hears the weakness.

“There’s no way you haven’t seen this. Every delightful queer has seen the Brian and Justin show.” Mikey knows why Frank’s sneering. He ships Brian and Michael, best friends forever. For that matter, Gerard ships Ted and Michael. No one he knows really follows canon.

Ray shrugs. “Recently queer, remember?”

“I don’t buy it. This is a scheme. A nefarious plot, even. What are you up to, Ray Toro?”

He sighs, and Mikey recognises that too. That’s the sound of Ray capitulating to crazy friends. “I really haven’t seen it. But I know it’s supposed to be really hot, so I thought I could start jerking off at a scene and things could. I dunno. Progress from there?”

Bob pauses the DVD player. “That was your plan?”

“I was trying to be subtle!”

“Jerking off is subtle?”

“It is with us!”

Frank snorts. “Subtle is stupid. I’m going to suck your dick now.”

No one is surprised as Frank throws himself off the couch and crashes to his knees. No one tries to stop him. Everyone apart from Frank reaches for their crotch. There’s no way this isn’t going to be great. Frank’s got a porn star technique, at least from what they’ve seen when he demonstrates on random phallic objects like roll on liquid deodorant. Ray will probably come first, but they’ll all be following behind.

Mikey might have wanted a little more, but this is a really good start. Bob’s free hand is on his thigh, sweaty-hot even though his jeans. He’s the only one aside from Ray to have his zipper open. Mikey knows how to jerk off in a way that gets himself off nearly instantly, and he can do the same to Gerard. Right now he wants to wait. Tease himself. Maybe if he’s still hard when Frank disengages Frank will blow him, or he can come on Ray.

Frank pulls off with a wet noise, line of drool stretching until it snaps. Mikey’s confused for a second, it didn’t sound like Ray got off. When he sees Ray’s erection and Frank’s mouth twitches into a slight smirk, he realises Frank’s just a bitch. “Something on your mind, Ray Toro?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“I’ll let you come in a minute, I promise. I just think I should give someone else some relief first.” Mikey sees absolutely nothing wrong with this plan. It doesn’t even have to be him. Just, the more group participation the better.

“No. Uh. I thought maybe someone could fuck me? I mean, I only did it the once, but it was really good.” Ray’s blushing, a bit. Mikey wants to lick the pink off his face.

“Doesn’t matter if you’ve only done it once. People know what they like. Like me. I’m a raging cocksucker.”

“We know.” Frank wanting dick comes up in conversation at least once a day.

“So I’m a cocksucker, Ray’s a rock and roll bottom, one time experience says Mikey is an exhibitionist and Gerard is a come bucket, and no one knows Bob’s special skills yet.”

“Come bucket?”

“I thought it sounded better than cumdumpster.”

“Your dirty talk is more offensive than hot.”

Frank sticks his tongue out at Gerard. “It’s hot because it’s offensive!”

Bob rolls his eyes. “Suck my dick so you’ll shut up.”

“I still want to get fucked.”

“We’re five people. I’m sure there’s a way to make everyone happy.”

It seems obvious to Mikey. “Frank sucks Bob, Gerard, you fuck Ray and I’ll watch.”

“You can fuck me after Gerard.”

Gangbanging sounds really hot, but Mikey’s not sure he can actually handle it. “Maybe. If you still want to after.”

Mikey doesn’t consider himself really dominant. In fact, the Ray using his weight and pining him showed him the goodness of the other side of the dom sub equation. Still, it’s a bit of a rush to see them immediately do what he suggests. It’s just hard to know what to do with himself. Some things are obvious though. He stands with the rest of them and unbuckles his belt before adding his jeans to the growing pile. He spits on his hand and curls his fingers around his dick straight after. Regardless of what he’s watching, he’ll need his hand on his dick.

A second later he’s got better; Gerard throwing the sticky bottle of lube at him. It leaks every time they upend it to use it, but the actual lubricant is nice, and the bottles they trade off buying are cheap. Mikey pours what he needs into his right hand, and then tosses the bottle back with his left. Neither of them catch it, of course. Athletes, none of them are.

Mikey’s distracted from the first finger of his brother pushing into Ray with the sound of Bob moaning. It’s rare that signifies pleasure; Bob gets hurt a lot. Mikey means to glance over, but his eyes get stuck.

Frank talks about his prowess, but the difference between talk and Frank’s nose in Bob’s pubes is vast. Bob’s enjoying it as much as Mikey is, if the hands that are crumpling the shoulders of Frank’s t-shirt are any indicator. Every time Bob’s hand drifts to Frank’s hair, Frank reaches up and blindly swats at him. Bob can’t seem to stop himself. He puts it down on the fabric and a second later it’s back on his scalp.

Finally Frank pulls off. “One of you assholes hold his arms back? He’s messing with my skill set.”

Mikey makes a move, but Gerard’s there practically before he can blink. So much for his brilliant strategy. He’s happy his brother’s gotten his chance to touch Bob though, it’s a good turn of events.

“Okay, so I guess you can fuck me first and Gerard will fuck me after.”

“No offence, but I really want to watch this and I can’t really focus on two things at once.” Mikey knows his limits. Maybe eating dinner and watching tv, but not fucking Ray and watching his brother and his two friends. His attention would be so split he’d miss the best of both. “But I could finger you while you wait?”

Ray nods and sinks down until he’s sitting on his heels. There’s just enough room for Mikey to move his hand in under him. He starts with two, when Ray easily takes it he adds a third. One day in the future he’s going to fist Ray and it’ll be the hottest thing ever. For now he’s enjoying the hell out of the situation in front of him. Gerard is on his knees, his arms raised and pinning Bob’s to the small of his back. He’s nipping bites all over Bob’s ass. Each time he does, Bob whines and thrusts forward into Frank’s waiting mouth.

By the time Frank’s swallowing, Gerard’s lips are pink and Bob’s ass is red. It’s a good look for all three of them, especially when Gerard crawls over to him and turns his head, holding it at an angle to kiss him. His tongue slides slickly against his, and he can feel his brother’s cock hard against his thigh. They break away after too short a time, Mikey torn between wanting to kiss him forever and maybe seeing what he looks like kissing Ray.

Gerard’s eyes follow the length of Mikey’s arm from to shoulder to hand. He grins at Mikey’s fingers inside Ray, a welcome reaction. “You saved my spot?”

Mikey snickers and moves.

Frank pauses in licking his lips. “What a perfect fucking gentleman.”

Mikey snickers again.

“Who’s next? Bob, give a man some support!”

Bob sighs from his prone position on the couch. “A plus plus, would accept blow from again.”

Ray tries to reply with ‘seconded’, but his voice stutters and stops when Gerard enters him. It’s a beautiful thing to see. Mikey can’t help but start to jerk off, understanding what he put Frank through a week ago. For his part though Frank doesn’t seem too interested in vengeance. On the contrary, Frank crawls the same path Gerard did. Unlike Gerard and Ray, who went forward onto their hands and knees, Mikey falls back until his bare back hits grubby carpet. He half-heartedly reaches to adjust his bunched shirt, then decides he doesn’t care. Squirming will only make Frank stop, he witnessed that lesson ten minutes ago.

Sexual habits are sexual habits. When he gets a handjob from a fellow indie kid, he always keeps a hand on their ass. When he kisses some pretty strange girl he always tries his best to smear her lipstick. And it doesn’t matter now that it’s Frank blowing him instead of Gerard, he still closes his eyes when someone’s mouth is on his dick. It’s why he hears rather than sees his brother come. Mikey would recognise that sound anywhere.

Ray follows less than a minute later. Mikey realises with a shudder that he recognises the sound of Ray coming. It’s imprinted, along with the feel of him pinning him to the bed. Hopefully Bob and Frank will burn into his mind just as strongly. Bob he’ll probably remember, he whimpers. He didn’t pay much attention to Frank the first time, in Gerard’s room, and he hasn’t gone off again. He wants to hear it. He just wants to get off first. He lets everything else fall away and focuses on Frank’s tongue circling the head of his cock.

“Do you want me to blow you, or-?” Mikey asks when he’s got his breath back, after.

“Are you kidding? I sucked off two guys today. You could look at it crosseyed and I’d come.”

“You can like, on me, if you want.” Honestly, he’s kind of grateful Frank doesn’t want anything from him. He doesn’t particularly want to move.

“Next time, maybe.”

He’s not entirely sure where Frank actually does come. He’s got his eyes closed. Frank groans, much lower than anyone else’s orgasm noises, and it’s a jolt to his spent dick, but he can’t bring himself to open his eyes. Getting off takes a bit out of him.

By the time Mikey’s sitting up, ready to grab his pants, Gerard’s out. He’s not snoring, but he’s most definitely asleep, naked in the middle of the floor. Mikey’s not surprised. He didn’t get to sleep after class, they just came straight here. What’s slightly more surprising, even though it shouldn’t be, is that Bob gets off the couch to get him a blanket and Frank raises his head to prop it on a pillow. It’s a ratty spare blanket from the hall closet, not one from his bedroom, and the position that Frank’s left his head in doesn’t look particularly natural or comfortable. But it’s the meaning behind the actions that counts.

“You wanna watch the next fifty minutes of the show?” Ray questions as he comes out of the bathroom.

“The Brian and Justin show?” Frank snorts. “No. Put on something with gay characters that aren’t completely annoying.”

Mikey laughs and steps over Gerard to get to the computer. He clicks through a few things before picking a random episode of Warehouse 13. Gay characters and weird awesome devices- there’s no one in the room that should complain about watching it.

***

“Pete, what would you do if you and your boyfriend had a threesome, and it was supposed to be a one time thing but you actually really liked the guy and wanted to do it again?” He’s fudging the numbers a bit, but it’s for the best.

“Shit, I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”

Mikey shrugs and continues to paint silver sparkles on the black Sharpie nail polish he just finished drawing on. He didn’t tell Pete, and of course Pete never asked if he loved anyone. Love is serious.

“Do you like the new guy better than old guy? Because if you do you have two options. One, never see him again, ever. So you forget, and you don’t ruin a good thing. Two, dump the old guy, who can’t even be that great seeing as you never introduced him to me.”

Mikey’s wondering who everyone else is talking to about this. Ray will be contemplating alone, either stretched out fully clothed and staring at the ceiling on his bed, or curled around his guitar. Bob might be talking to Brian.

“And then obviously if you like your boyfriend better, even if you had fun, you probably shouldn’t do it with him again. Find a different boy for you and your boyfriend to be with. Keep the fun activity without attaching strings.”

Pete’s already got golden glitter on his fingers. Mikey considers applying a coat of the silver on top. Things should always be glittery for Pete. “You don’t think a long term threesome could work?”

“What, like polygamy?”

“Well, not the child molesting kidnapping kind, obviously.” Mikey’s not stupid, he knows what the average person associates polygamy with.

But Pete’s not stupid either. Some people find it easy to forget that. Not Mikey. “Duh. I don’t know, really. You’d have to be like best friends with them first, to make sure all the relationships were equal. Jealousy between two people sucks. With three it would probably suck really hard.”

Mikey would bet anything Gerard is blogging about this, talking to desexed deaged deraced strangers about the situation. Mikey’s almost positive he has an online journal. Sometimes he catches Gerard uploading pictures he’s taken of his art, or grinning when he’s checking his email. He’s never gone and hunted for his blog, even though he can guess what his brother’s username would be. Everyone needs some privacy.

“But if you think it could work, you should try. It could make things really awesome, if it works.

Mikey’s got Pete, so he’s way better off than any of his friends. In a different life, it might have been Pete.

“I think it could work.”

“Then you should go for it.” Pete dives in for a hug. Mikey either has to catch him or let him tumble off the bed. It’s not really a choice, even if his wet fingers smear against Pete’s shirt.

“I think we will.” Thinking -hoping- is the best he can do. He wants this to work, desperately hopes it at least holds out until college in the fall. But if it doesn’t, Gerard and Pete will get him through it. He’ll always have Pete, until they both die. And chances are Gerard will hunt him down in the afterlife. His brother -loverboyfriendbestfriendeverything- is like that.

Comments

[turps]

Now that's the kind of GSF that I like.

I really like how it was awkward at times, and Ray needed eased into the situation. Also, how Mikey freaked when Gerard told all, which, he had every cause to.

I did enjoy this a lot.

[gala_apples]

As much as I needed to write a happy ending, I think it adds a tiny bit of realism if it's not all totally perfect immediately. I'm glad you liked it!