Chapter Text
“Holy fucking shit!” Frank’s voice boomed as he slammed the piece of paper down on the kitchen table. Jordan was sipping a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper, only to spill some hot droplets onto his hand in surprise at Frank’s excited actions. Davis moved from the sink to the napkins without a second thought, handing a few to Jordan before giving Frank an incredulous look. Frank had been sorting through their mail, for the most part, silently, mostly seeing the overwhelming amount of bills that were way past due, when he’d come across the most amazing thing – or at least, that was what he thought. He slid the paper over for Davis to look at and the other’s neck craned to turn to read it. On the top of the paper, it said BATTLE OF THE BANDS, which caused him to raise his brow before his eyes went down to skim the rest of the paper.
“Frank-” Davis’s voice held that tone of “You see this says, Los Angeles. We are in New Jersey. We simply cannot afford to go all that way”, but Frank simply was not having it. He snatched the paper up before Jordan could read it, which got a sound of disapproval from the heavy-set man. Frank held it close to his chest. This was their chance for their big break. No more living in a dumpy apartment in fucking New Jersey where there was a shooting every day and neighbors at the ass crack of the night arguing over infidelity. On top of that, the cash prize was infinitely more than enough to pay off all the shitty bills and then some. Frank could get a new car. They could rent out a nicer apartment – maybe in Los Angeles itself. Life could finally feel fucking worth living again. How could they not see this?
“I really think it’s physically impossible for us to do that. I mean, how long do we even have to sort out travel costs and all of that?” Davis was always the voice of reason. He was the oldest, after all, and once upon a time, he’d been Frank’s manager, but after that whole place had gone to the shitter because of the owners being absolute dickbags, Davis and Frank had actually become friends. Jordan had been a package deal with Davis and once Frank found out that Davis played drums and Jordan played guitar, the rest was history. They’d all decided to split on this shitty two-bedroom apartment because even with three incomes, it was the best they could afford. Shitty retail jobs meant for high school teens would do that to you, but Frank had a dream that The Violence could be a real deal for them. If they just worked hard enough.
“A week, but listen! Ole George has been begging me to help him out at the auto shop more and I could pick up a few more shifts at the gas station too. I’ll suck as many dicks as necessary if it goes down to that. Just … please, this once, have faith in me?” Frank pressed his palms together as if Davis was a god he was praying to and asking for permission. Davis’s face definitely looked like how Frank imagined God looked down at him constantly, but eventually his features softened. It was evident how desperate Frank was to make this happen. He had a funny way of pushing his luck and the world seemed to bend in his favor if he tried hard enough. He couldn’t knock Frank’s game.
“Alright. Alright.” Davis sighed, “But if you don’t have everything sorted out by the time we are supposed to be there, we aren’t going. I’m not forking any of my savings for this and you know damn well why.” Davis had a kid with some bitch who lived in the trailer park about 30 minutes east. Every time Frank was reminded that Davis had stuck his dick in something so … unsanitary made him want to puke, but one look at Davis and you could see he likely wouldn’t be pulling any better. The mother wasn’t with him anymore, but his son was a bright kid who had a future that Davis was hoping he could invest in when he was of age. Even if it meant living in shit and piss so that his son could live in glamor, or at least have a chance to be somebody other than a manager at a mom-and-pop shop. Davis didn’t have that choice.
“Of course, man. I could never ask that from you.” Frank said before his eyes moved to Jordan. Jordan’s story was different. He’d decided that his very rich parents could, in his own words, “Get Fucked”. They still on occasion tried to send him checks, tagged along with letters begging for forgiveness. Frank wasn’t even sure what the hell they’d done to Jordan and honestly, he was much too afraid to even ask. Jordan refused to cash any of those checks though and after the first time Frank tried to convince him to, he’d learned it was a lost cause, but maybe-
“Absolutely not.” Jordan answered Frank’s thoughts before he could speak them out loud. Frank huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. This was going to be a rough week, but he was going to make it work. He had to. Winning Battle Of The Bands would put them in the spotlight for sure and the winners got studio time with the possibility of getting signed. Who in their right mind would say no to such an invitation? Not Frank Iero.
“Fine. FIne. All by myself like Celine Dion was singing about.” Frank said before standing up. “Guess that’s my cue to start the groveling for hours.” He headed for the landline phone so he could do exactly that while Davis and Jordan went about the rest of their days as normal. Frank eventually ended up scoring a closing shift at the gas station and a late night shift afterward at the auto shop since George was behind on a particular car that was urgently needed back by the next morning. It was going to be a long night, but Frank knew he’d stock up on coffee and, if absolutely needed, a Redbull or Monster. He could do this. Sleep was for the weak.
The closing shift at the gas station went by with no incidents and little to no customers. He felt like he was getting paid mostly to make sure no one came in and robbed the joint or whatever which was perfectly fine with him. He watched the TV in the corner and leaned on the counter, taking sips of his overly burnt coffee from time to time until it was too cold to be considered anything worth drinking anymore. It was half empty by the time it was time to close up. He took out the trash and counted the till and put all the money in the safe before closing up shop. Luckily, the auto shop was right beside the gas station. Something about convenience or whatever, so he simply tossed the shitty vest that was his uniform for the gas station in the back seat of his car and walked over. George was outside and though it looked like he’d maybe been waiting for Frank, it became very evident that wasn’t the case. He was talking to someone, but his large frame just covered the expanse of their form which became clear when Frank got closer.
“Look, kid, I’m sorry, but I can’t get it done any sooner.” George was saying, “Especially if you really plan on driving that thing all the way to California. We’ve gotta make sure she’s in tip-top shape or you’ll just end up stranded on the side of the road.” Frank couldn’t tell if the person George was talking to was a girl or a boy. Their hair was long, straight, and black. Their posture was also kind of awful, like they were slumping over for some reason. Not exactly hunchback of Notre dame type slumping, but close enough. The hair covered a good chunk of their face and what wasn’t covered was some weird mix of feminine and masculine. Frank hadn’t even realized he was staring until a pair of eyeliner-rimmed hazel eyes were staring right back.
“Sorry about him. He doesn’t usually work here with me, but he’s got a natural talent for fixing up cars, so I’ve called him up to help me out. He’s just got a staring problem sometimes. What’s it called? The AFJD or something?” George was old and evidently not at all informed on matters of mental health or whatever. Frank wasn’t sure whether to feel embarrassed or not to be caught staring, but at least George was trying to give an excuse so he looked less like an asshole than he felt.
“I think you mean ADHD.” The person said and Frank’s brows rose. Even their voice was some weird mix of girl and boy. Either way, Frank couldn’t deny that they were pretty attractive. If Bisexual panic were a person, it would certainly look something like the stranger in front of him. “He probably just spaced out. He looks tired, but his hands are shaking. I’m guessing too much gas station coffee?” They gave him a shy smile and Frank felt like he was going to melt right then and there. “Sorry if that was too nail on the head. I’m Gerard.” They held out their hand for Frank to shake and he did. Their hands were soft – especially in comparison to Frank’s which had callouses from playing guitar and from working with his hands in general very often.
“Frank.” Frank introduced himself and he could feel the back of his neck heating up, which George seemed to notice as he clasped a hand on it to pull Frank to head towards the shed. Gerard’s features turned to concern but Frank gave a sheepish wave to indicate he was okay before he got the hint and headed off to go look at the car in question. He sighed as he walked on the loud gravel that crunched underneath his boots. It was only then that he saw they weren’t going to work on a normal car, they were working on a van. In fact, it looked like the dream van Frank had been dreaming about buying if they ever got into touring out of state for shows, but that had seemed like a far-off dream until now.
“Alright, Romeo. It’s time to get started on that van. We’ve gotta have it done by the morning.” George said as he entered the shed, joining Frank to stand in front of the van. Frank frowned before turning to George. Had it really been that obvious that he found the stranger attractive? George rolled his eyes as an answer to his unspoken question before he was walking over to his toolbox to start grabbing the necessary tools. Frank fell into his natural state whenever he worked at the auto shop, He situated himself on the creeper so that he could slide underneath the van and take a look at what was going on, but then he had a question and slid out.
“Hey, George, what happened to that customer? Did they leave?” Frank realized he hadn’t seen any other cars besides his own and George’s toy truck in the area, so he couldn’t help but wonder how Gerard had gotten themself home. George stopped what he was doing and sighed loudly. Frank could tell he didn’t feel like chit-chatting. He wasn’t exactly the most ball of sunshine type of guy, but especially not when he had to work late-night hours like this. He was more of a late morning and early afternoon sort of guy.
“He’s trying to catch some sleep in my office.” George said, “He and his little friends plan on driving to California come the morning. Something about some Battle Of The Bands thing.” He seemed to find whatever he had been looking for and grabbed it before waddling his way over to frank and placing the tools beside him. “Nonstop it’s like a two-day drive, so I’d guess it’s going to take them at least a week to get there if they’re responsible. No one should be sitting in a car for that long. Now mind your business and get to work.” Frank was stunned by this new information. Gerard was going to the battle of the bands too? The irony of it felt … like the universe was planning something, but Frank pushed those thoughts away. Gerard wouldn’t be going anywhere if his van didn’t get fixed.
“And done.” Frank said a few hours later. He could almost feel the bags forming underneath his eyes and his arms ached from twisting and turning bolts and gears and he was covered practically head to toe in fucking oil. He just wanted a hot shower and a nap after all of this. “Rev her up and see if she purrs, big boss.” He slid out from under the van and stood up, patting the hood proudly. George stirred awake from his seat, obviously having dozed off while Frank did all of the hard work.
“Wh-What was that? Who goes there?” George shouted before realizing where he was, “Oh … you’re finally done?” He wiped at his eyes, giving him raccoon-like smears from oil, but he didn’t seem to notice before standing up with a huge breath. He grabbed the keys and got in, turning the key in the ignition to hear the most gentle of purrs either one of them had ever heard from a van in the history of ever. Magic fucking hands.
“I’ll be damned, Iero! You did it!” George cheered before turning it off and tossing the keys to Frank. “Guess that means you get the honor of telling sleeping beauty that she’s done. I’m going home.” George yawned loudly, “I’m in need of a good night's rest after all of that.” Frank rolled his eyes as he juggled the keys in his hand but nodded in agreement. He stood there silently as he waited to hear George get in his truck and leave and when he finally did, Frank walked the expanse of gravel to George’s office. He peeked in, expecting to see Gerard sleeping somewhere, but instead, he was struggling with the shitty coffee maker George had for the last decade and a half. Frank came up behind him and pressed a button and coffee began to brew and that was enough to make Gerard jump in surprise, turning to Frank with their hands up.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s a shitty machine and hard to use if you’re … y’know not an old bat named George.” Frank said, finger running along the ridges of the van key without much thought. “Speaking of, your van is all spankin’ new, so you can make that trip to Cali no problem. I uh … I’m trying to raise enough money so me and my band can compete in battle of the bands too, so like … maybe I’ll see you there?” He held out Gerard’s key then and he cautiously took it, the hoop sliding onto his finger before his other hand grabbed the fully prepared coffee.
“Thanks and … maybe.” Gerard gave Frank that same smile that made him melt the first time before taking a sip of his coffee. “Oof that’s hot.” He stuck his tongue out for a moment before walking around Frank, but he stopped at the door as if he’d forgotten something. “Did I say thank you?”
“You did.” Frank couldn’t stop the smile from coming into his voice at that. Gerard gave an apologetic smile before giving a small wave that resembled Frank’s bashful one from hours previous.
“Good. See you around … Frank.” Gerard pulled the door open and the bell jingled as he did. All Frank could think about as he watched him go was God, I hope so.