.Frerard Smut.

.You lead.

The bar was loud, sketchy and committed at least three health code violations since they got here: Frank's friends idea of a great night out. He couldn't remember how they tricked him to come this time, probably something about him needing to get laid of something. He kinda did, the last time he had sex, he had at least half the number of tattoos he has now.

He just didn't really crave it anymore, all the girls seemed to lack something, and he always found a reason to reject them. The pettiest flaws you could find bothered him to no end: he once shoed off a girl because her hair was too shiny...

Too shiny?!?

Of course, he also found some guys attractive but it's not like he was going to do anything about it. Anyway, finding a queer guy in Jersey was like looking for a bad My Chemical Romance song: hopeless. He also... never really took it seriously, it's not like he actually wanted to fuck a guy. He just sometimes noticed them more, nothing weird there.

Right?

He was bored out of his mind so he went to the bar get a drink. He ordered a banana daiquiri because he really couldn't care less about your opinion and started to savour it, sitting on a stool at the edge of the bar.

He sat quietly for a couple of minutes, and only noticed the girl coming closer when she sat on the stool next to him. "Wanna buy me a drink hottie?" she said seductively, her hand coming to rest on his thigh.

And boy was he uncomfortable.

She was kinda cute, he'll give her that but... "No thank you, I don't like the color of your nail polish."

He got up and got the hell out of that awkward situation, glancing at his own chipped black nail polish as he got out of the bar to get a breath of fresh air. Who was he to judge her bright green nails honestly? He rested his back to the brick hall and exhaled, his breath fogging the october air. He closed his eyes and relaxed.

"I like the nail polish. Very punk rock of you." A voice adressed him to his side. He tensed and looked. He thought it was a woman at first because the person was wearing makeup and high heels, but upon further inspection he realized it was the most gorgeous man he had ever seen, wearing makeup and high heels.

He was smoking a cigarette, his red lipstick staining it, and wore a see-through shirt and a skirt so short you could literally see that you wanted a piece of that ass. He put a strand of his bright red hair behind his ear, a seductive grin on his lips as he turned his body toward Frank's. "If you're going to look at my ass you might as well tell me your name, loverboy."

Frank was already 50 shades of pink.
"Sorry about that, I'm a little tipsy... Not that that excuses sexual misbehaviour! I'm not an asshole I swear! Fuck what was I saying??"

"Your name sweetie, my name's Gerard by the way."

"Sorry, I'm Frank. Iero. My name's Frank Iero." He scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"Well Frank Iero you can stop freaking out about the butt thing, I looked at yours too and I think it's cute." He looked at Frank with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, a relieved chuckle finding its way out of Frank's mouth. The corners of Gerard's eyes had little laugh lines, and he thought that was adorable.

They stood in comfortable silence for a while, Gerard finally flicking his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it with his right heel. Classic Grease move, Frank though.