The first time it happened was a total accident. Frank was sitting on the floor, back to the couch with his legs stretched out in front of him, and Gerard came charging through, saying something excited about clouds of ink, and he wasn't looking where he was going and he got his foot tangled between Frank's and went down face-first, narrowly avoiding braining himself on the Playstation.
Frank laughed, because people falling over was always funny, especially when it was Gee, who managed to flail all of his limbs around separately and make a startled whooping sound before he even hit the floor. "You okay, man?"
Gerard pushed himself onto his hands and knees, looking completely shocked, like the floor had become vertical and punched him in the face. He stared warily at it, as if it might finish him off with a headbutt when he wasn't looking.
"Dude," said Frank, because it was best to nip these paranoid fantasies in the bud before Gerard started refusing to use doors, or something, and spent weeks climbing in and out of windows. It had happened before. "You just tripped."
Gerard frowned and sat back on his heels. "I guess," he said doubtfully, and then pressed a hand to his forehead, wincing. "Ow?"
Frank put his controller down and held his hands out to Gerard. "C'mere."
Gerard crawled over immediately and curled up against Frank's side, burrowing in under his arm and sighing happily when Frank kissed his forehead. "That hurt."
"Yeah." Frank put his other arm around Gerard too and squeezed a bit, smiling when Gerard made a pleased squeaking sound. The good thing about Gerard's little dramas was that if you got to them early enough, they were easy to fix. It was when you let things get a toehold that it all went to shit. "You wanna play? I'll let you win."
Gerard sighed again and wriggled his fingers until they were hooked inside the pocket of Frank's jeans. "No, I'll just watch."
Frank couldn't play one-handed though, and he didn't want to let go of Gerard, so he gave up after a few minutes and let Gerard tell him all the things he'd read on Wikipedia about squid, and Frank kept his arms around him until Ray came to tell them it was time for lunch.
***
The second time was an accident, too. Gerard was groping Frank's chest and licking his neck during 'Prison', like normal, and when he let Frank go, Frank spun away a little too fast and reared back so he wouldn't hit himself in the face with his mic stand, and ended up slamming the head of his guitar into Gerard's stomach.
To his credit (and because if Gerard could sing through a kick in the balls, he could sing through the apocalypse, as he liked to tell anyone who'd listen) Gerard didn't even miss a note, just made a face and staggered out of the line of fire and back to the centre of the stage.
He forgot about it until he was crammed between Gerard and Bob on the little sofa in their dressing room later, talking, and he flung his hands out to make a point and caught Gerard in the stomach.
"Dude," Gerard hissed, and sort of mashed himself backwards against the cushions, shrinking away from Frank's hand. "Never mind Bob, we should put you on a fucking riser, for all our sakes."
"I'd just jump off of it. Probably onto your head," Frank pointed out, but he squirmed around and pressed his other hand over Gerard's stomach, gently. "Is it bad? Let me see."
Gerard clicked his tongue, but he let Frank push his shirt up. They both inspected his stomach, which looked the same as ever, pale and smooth.
"Dammit," Gerard said, sounding disappointed. "I wanted a bruise. I hate it when something hurts and there's not a bruise."
