“I think we should do it,” Frank says before shoving another handful of chips into his mouth, the crunchy sound of him chewing making Gerard cringe. He dips his paintbrush into a cup of water and the green color which he’s trying to paint the fruit bowl on the table in front of him with. It’s stupid and he hates it, but Mr. Olsen had insisted that versatility is important, even if your plan is to work with comics.
“Do what?” Gerard asks, eyes flicking between the pear in the bowl and the one on his paper. He sees Frank move in the corner of his eye, getting off the bed and stepping across the room to throw the now empty bag of chips in the bin by the door. Gerard is in the middle of the room, sitting on a chair with his drawing board, the paint set up on another chair next to him and the fruit bowl on the desk. Frank disappears from his field of vision and then Gerard can feel him behind his back, a hand on his shoulder and shaky whisper in his ear.
“You know. It.” It’s a good thing Gerard isn’t touching the paintbrush to the paper right now because he jumps at Frank’s words and it would have ruined all his hard work. Frank chuckles and moves away, around Gerard, inspecting his bookcase, making random little noises when he sees something he likes or dislikes. Frank doesn’t say anything else though, and it’s frustrating to Gerard because it means the ball is still on his court and he needs to say something but he doesn’t know what.
“Frank,” he starts, because it’s all he can come up with at the moment and it’s not too bad. “We don’t. We don’t do that.”
“Yeah, but we could.” Frank turns his head as he speaks and Gerard looks up, feeling his face flush just thinking about it. Frank turns back to where Gerard’s small book collection sits, Gerard’s gaze sliding over his body, lingering where Frank’s shirt has ridden up to show a surprisingly tan patch of skin. Then Frank bends over to pick up the box of cassette tapes from the shelf closest to the floor, Gerard biting his lip and swallowing hard because Frank probably has the nicest ass Gerard has ever seen on a guy and the jeans he’s wearing are enhancing everything that’s great about it.
“But we’re friends. Wouldn’t it be weird?” Gerard reclaims control over his eyes and returns to the stupid fruit bowl, dipping his paintbrush in orange next, before changing his mind and going for the purple, painting the grapes instead.
“Of course not,” Frank replies and Gerard looks at him again, immediately focusing on the way Frank’s fingers are playing with the hem of his shirt, lifting it up a little. “The way I see it, it can turn out two different ways.” As he says this, he raises his arms and pulls the shirt off, revealing his bare chest. “One possibility is that we do it and that’s it. We get rid of the sexual tension that’s obviously there and we remain friends.” He drops the shirt to the floor and strokes his hands down his chest before moving them both to undo his belt buckle. Gerard is staring at him openmouthed at this point, hand and paintbrush suspended in the air, inches away from the paper.
“What’s the other possibility?” Gerard asks, his mouth dry as a desert. Frank’s belt is undone and he’s unzipping his jeans now and Gerard finally regains enough control to put the paintbrush down before he drops it and makes a mess of everything.
“The other possibility is that we do it again.” It’s so easy for Frank to talk about this, but Gerard doesn’t understand why. “And again, and again.” Frank shoves his jeans down and his socks slide off too as he steps out of them. Gerard hadn’t been sure before but Frank’s erection is evident through the thin cotton of his briefs, and Gerard becomes instantly more aware of his own hard on straining against his jeans. Gerard is on his feet before he can stop himself, leaving his drawing board on the chair, and then he’s just watching again, curious eyes following Frank’s hands as they slide into his briefs, pushing them down, down, down until they fall to his feet on their own.
