InsaneJournal

FIC: Art of Codependency: Bob-- mature, gen, MCR
Title: Art of Codependency: Bob
Author: Lise aka lisa roquin
Pairing: more-or-less gen, but multiple pairings, predominantly het, in passing mention, easily read as pre-slash if you so desire
Rating: mature
fandom: bandom (god help me), MCR in specific
POV: Bob
Summary: Mikey and Frank couldn't. Ray didn't work for this apparantly. So it was his turn, and he doesn't have the slightest clue what the fuck to do except hold on as tight as he can.
Disclaimer: oh, what? of course this is the gospel truth. And I love your hat, tinfoil is all the rage this year, and so useful about keeping those pesky aliens and telepaths from getting in your head, I agree. Hello. Reality Check. This is pure bullshit. Fiction. Look it up.
Author Notes: a million things I should and need to be doing, but I took a very necessary mental health time out to try to find words again before I lost my damn mind. And this is what showed up.
Dedications: points. it's her fault. all hers. and she knows who she is. she's a little busy rolling on the floor laughing at me right now. but I swear. It's her fault. And yes that is so a dedication. if she can make death threats to make me post this, I can blame her for a dedication.

Gerard



He'd known.

He couldn't say he hadn't been warned at all. Ray and Brian had picked him up from the airport in a van, which already had his drums and clothes all loaded up in, shipped seperately a couple days ahead to Ray's mom's house.

Brian has his list of orders. Hell, Brian would be taking his turn at the apartment, if he could, if he thought...he would. They all knew that. Just like they all knew that even if it was Brian that just now it wasn't going to work.

Bob listens to them. Because Mikey's passed on enough links that came from the boards and whereever the fuck all that...yeah, like it or not something had to be said but none of them really knew what the fuck had happened. How everything had gone from so fucking sickeningly sweet and all snuggles and fucking unicorn shirts to this. Something needs out, if only to buy some peace. Give the dogs a bone to chew on and go away for a while. But none of them were willing to say a fucking thing that might make things worse for Gee, or it be the wrong thing that sets him over the edge, or making the fucking official announcement being what was the final final straw that sent Gerard spiralling off somewhere they'd never get him back from.

The apartment, at least the living room, well, it isn't any worse than the bus can get, but that isn't exactly saying a hell of a lot. Still not that bad, overflowing ashtrays and piles of untouched comics, untouched laptop and cell on the coffee table, three game systems and their cords stretched across the floor of the living room like some death trap of clinging vines ready to jump up and tangle anyone stupid enough to try to walk over them. Half dozen remote controls for fuck knows what, dvds and cds scattered around the room.

Gerard looks like death warmed over, twitchy and he's lost weight, dark circles under his eyes. The panda look isn't surprising though, Ray had said that Gee had paced all fucking night rather than slept. The stench that hits Bob's nostrils is recognizable, worse, stronger or maybe just more fermented than he's smelled before, but recognizable. Eau de unwashed Gerard.

It's all the more jarring because it's been three weeks, and a slap in the face with just how fucked Gerard is, even with the phone calls daily. At least one each from Ray, Frank and Mikey, usually Brian too and comparing notes with Brian over what was said and not said. Brian to do his damndest to get a handle on how to deal with the public shit as well as gaging the other three's sanity and what they needed and Bob trying to get as much of a grasp of what the fuck was going on with the other four when he was halfway across the country.

Ray putting up with even a fraction of the shit he said Gerard had went off about, well not so surprising really. Not now. Not getting a good look at Gee. Fuck.

Brian and Ray help him haul his shit in, Gerard sits on the couch in a daze mostly, lost somewhere in his head. Gerard lost somewhere in his head isn't anything new, but this is. The broken of this, the utter lost of this. Gerard lost in his head, normally, you can see things flittering through his eyes, sparks of emotion and thought and smiles and frowns, eyebrows working together and intensity washing over his face as he worries through some phrasing or imaging in his head. Gerard lost in his head is usually peaceful and kind of amusing, watching some of the expressions that flit over his face. This is dead and broken and blank and more just a shell sitting there than Gerard.

Ray and Brian take off almost immediately. Bob can't begrudge them that, there's legitimate shit both have to be doing, and Ray's still shredded raw from the week he's had with Gerard. Frank, Jamia, Mikey and Alicia are out the door nearly as quickly. The four had been Gerard sitting and cleaning up a bit. The apartment itself is in decent shape. The take out containers thrown out, kitchen stocked half-assed, coffee cups and silverware all washed since those were the only dishes really used. Fresh sheets on the bed and well the only real mess was sitting on the couch in a fog and named Gerard, at least beyond the clutter of trying to entertain and distract Gee.

Drums first.

Just yeah.

Bob isn't going to survive this sane without his drums. He gets his kit unpacked and set up. Just no fucking way is he attempting any of this without his drums to hold onto his own sanity.

Food next because Gerard looks like hell. His clothes are hanging on him, noticeably. Enough that getting sick is probably the next fucking thing, rundown, depressed, not eating. It's a logical progression and Bob's not letting it happen if he can help it.

His heart is pounding so loudly in his ears as he broaches the subject of an official statement he barely hears Gerard's answer, but quickly relays the mutual decision no ones fault BS to Brian by phone. Which pretty much seems to be the statement already worked out, civil let us have our privacy yadda yadda and really, what the fuck else would there be put out? Especially now. Because if it was going to be a spectacle of a split up it would already have been. But it wasn't. MSI seemed to have closed ranks around their girl and were quietly cobbling things together with a side of hard partying to finish up their touring. Brian seems to have things under control and Bob doesn't really give a flying fuck. This is theirs, not their music, not anything that they put out there for the world, but as usual the world doesn't fucking get that.

He gets Gerard showered, thankfully but more than a bit worried Gerard doesn't even mutter so much as a 'fuck you asshole' or anything like that. Bob is simply relieved that Gerard chooses bed over video games, he's beat, and he doesn't really know what the fuck to do. Ray tried. But Ray was right, Gerard wasn't going to do anything but snarl with Ray yet and they had to do something. It was edging on the point that Alicia and Jamia had all they could do to hold Mikey and Frank together.

"Why?" Gerard asks as Bob shuffles him into the bed with a little push.

Bob blinks. "What?" Because that is the stupidest fucking question he's ever heard in his life. Gerard might be a lot of things, including high-fucking-maitenance, but he wasn't stupid. Bob wonders what the fuck he's missing as he strips down, the decision of where he's sleeping made by the lost look, no way in hell is he leaving Gerard on his own. But Jesus, what leap or conversation about clones and superheroes that never happened but he should have somehow psychic-ly picked up the thread of is he missing because Gerard couldn't possibly be asking what Bob thinks he is. "Seriously, what?"

"Why are you doing this?"

Bob is surprised he can even speak, his voice even somewhat even and normal sounding because Jesus fucking Christ. "Are you fucking stupid or does it seriously not occur to you we give a shit about you?" he managed, dazed.

"I--" Gerard sounds so lost, like he has not the slightest idea where to go with that thought or even what the thought is.

"Owe Ray one helluva apology." The words tumble out of his mouth before he realizes they were even there. Christ, as bad as Frank with that, he snorts at the thought and "I think I would have decked you hour by hour two."

He wouldn't have. Never. But he sure as hell didn't know how he would have dealt with half the shit Ray had filled him in on, and that probably wasn't even a tenth of the shit that had actually gone on. He doesn't have Ray's steady with utter emotional wreckage, he probably would have laid into Gerard and shot back with god knows what.

"Frank didn't love Jamia so much I would've fucked him when he was here."

"No shit," Bob snorts trying not to choke. He's not sure where the fuck that came from but even zombie-Gerard is apparantly random as fucking hell at times. Where the fuck had that come from? Because Jesus if it wouldn't eventually destroy Frank the two of them would probably fuck like rabbits the entire time on the road when Jamia wasn't with Frank. And probably with Jamia's full blessing to keep Frank somewhat grounded if in the long run it wouldn't destroy Frank.

The laughter from Gerard is all broken glass and razor blades and wrong. His breath catches in his throat and ice starts wrapping around his insides.

Bob finally finds himself able to breathe when he catches the slightest spin, just a ghost of Gerard's thinking, but still, there.

"Why are you smiling?"

Bob doesn't find it the least bit odd Gerard's asking that question with not the least attempt to make out Bob's expression in the dark.

"You're thinking"

Gerard's silence is confused and slightly worried. Bob almost wants to laugh himself. He can feel Gerard wondering if they'd diven him insane. Mostly because Bob claims they're going to do just that one of these days--Gerard, Frank and Mikey drive him and Ray totally batshit.

"You've been a zombie for six weeks. Shut down, nothing, I can see the wheels spinning now though." Bob offers.

"Co Dependency" is what Gerard offers back up as to the unspoken question of what is he thinking.

"Uh huh," he doesn't, because he really isn't too sure he wants the answer, and he is certain he doesn't want the clarification of codependency. Gerard just might talk all damn night and he really needed to sleep. "How about some co-dependent sleeping? Ray says you paced all fucking night all last week." He cautiously rolls just enough, arm across Gerard's chest and leg resting not quite on Gerard's. Ready to...grab him and hold tight just in case. The burst of broken-glass laughter still close in Bob's mind, still cold in his veins.

"I--"

Oh fuck he sounds so fucking lost. Bob pulls Gerard closer wrapping him in his arms. He holds Gerard tight and silently prays that Gee doesn't fall to pieces, he doesn't know if the four of them can begin to put the pieces together if Gee completely breaks.

"I wanted this to work."

"Yeah" Bob says quietly, his hand cautiously moving upward sliding over Gerard's back and fingers tangling just a little in the hair at the back of Gee's neck. Christ, that was the understatement of all time. Gerard had wanted so bad it had been fucking painful to watch.

"Wasn't her fault, not...not really anyone's. Everyones."

"Happens like that, sometimes," Bob agrees. Don't fucking shatter, Gee. Don't don't don't.

"Fuck," Gerard whispers brokenly.

"Yeah." Bob swallows, rubbing Gerard's back just a little.

"This is...kinda girly"

Bob pats his head. "You'd make a pretty girl, even prettier than Christina Ricci." Because kinda really isn't the fucking word. at. all. But Bob doesn't give a flying fuck about that and neither did anyone else that mattered.

Gerard snorts.

"Okay, it's girly," Bob agrees, the ice inside him starting to warm, breathing a little easier and fighting the smile. He fights the urge to crush Gerard to him and hold him tight to make sure he doesn't fall apart or crumble to ashes on them, and fuck he'd been around these nuts and their comics way too long if he was thinking that. "But you're Gerard, so no one's thinking girly, just Gerard-y"

"Gerard-y"

"Yeah."

"Fucker," Gerard murmurs. He doesn't fight the shift, the way Bob's arms tighten around him and hold him close.

Gerard's breathing finally evens out and even in sleep the tension is there, the broken but quieter and a little softer in sleep.

~*~*~

The zombie is back in the morning. Bob swallows and hauls Gerard's ass out of bed once the coffee is done, when it's obvious Gerard's not going to move of his own volition, as if his week of raging at Ray took everything and there was nothing left but the zombie.

Three cups of coffee, five bites of scrambled eggs and eight cigarettes later, Bob gives up and clears the table, trying to tell himself five bites of anything is a victory. Even if each bite was prompted by a variation of "Fucking Eat, Gerard" It was five bites. And after the last few weeks it was debateable if Gerard's stomach knew what to do with anything beyond coffee. The delivary place that had lattees made with real cream and three tons of sugar each likely the only reason Gerard wasn't a complete skeleton. Coffee was easy, stick it in his hand and Gerard drank it.

He shoves a copy of Doom Patrol in front of Gerard while he does the few dishes. Half a cigarette later the page turns. Bob counts it as a victory, even if it's blind staring lost in his head not seeing the comic he likely has memorized. Gerard's making the effort to fake it, and that's something.

After an abortive attempt at video games lasting a total of fifteen cigarettes, four of them smoked by Bob. Lunch is a repeat of breakfast, but Bob isn't arguing with the half a slice of left over pizza actually eaten by Gerard.

They head back to the living room and he shoves a composition book and pen in Gerard's hands and heads for his drums before he loses his goddamned mind. His arms are burning, his wrists are throbbing and he really doesn't know what the hell he is going to do, he wants to call Ray, or Brian. Fuck, he wants to call Mikey or Frank and those two are slowly crumbling under the stress of all this. He leaves the composition book in Gerard's hand glancing down at mindless scribbles that make no sense and gets some sort of noise of acknowledgement when Bob says he's taking a shower.


The glance at the tablet when he gets out of the shower is almost scary. But it's put up, unlooked at beyond the unavoidable half-glance when he reached for it. A bit of tv. Supper is sandwiches, coldcuts that were in the fridge and likely compliments of Alicia or Jamia.

Day one sort of sets the pattern. Week two of Bob being there begins with the new therapist Brian's rounded up. Appointments on Monday and Thursday. Wednesday night is supper with Gerard and Mikey's parents who are getting a bit perterbed at Gerard's home-but-hermit after all this. Worried. Mikey and Alicia are there too. And Bob's not sure if that's better or worse. Alicia's borderline hovery at Mikey and Mikey's hitting last-nerve-impending explosion by the time the meal and coffee and bit of TV and evidently to cover the silence, Mrs Way's sudden urge to show Bob baby pictures of Gerard.

Bob could have kissed her, and Mikey actually smiled as Gerard roused up from wherever he was enough to grumble incoherently and blush slightly.

Glances at the notebook, never enough to actually see but just note something was there, when he was done practicing showed words as often as heavy ink sharp edged fuck knows what designs and images.

*

Week Three. Bob nearly kills Ray. It's a very close and tempting thing.

When Ray shows up Tuesday afternoon propelling Frankie in the door, one whiff and Bob sees red. Frank a little slow and glassy eyed and smelling to high heaven of pot. The need to sedate Frankie was legitimate, Bob had no doubt. Frank was wired-worried to the point Bob had gotten phone calls from Jamia demanding he tell Frank Gerard hasn't killed himself at two and three in the fucking morning.

Frank mellow to the gills on smoke, actually moving slow and calmly, isn't a problem. Frank isn't wired like Gerard or Mikey and a binge now and then or a heavy duty mellowing out once in a blue moon is just that. These days someone else getting him fucked up is the most likely scenario rather than Frankie partying of his own volition and that was just to get him still for a little while to save everyone elses sanity. And Frank really honestly probably needed it, because it's obvious Ray's the one that got him in this condition.

Frank smoked up to completely mellowed out, reeking of pot and parked on the couch right next to Gerard, is a huge fucking problem in Bob's opinion. Asshole and stupid at the best of times, and just now, Jesus FUCK.

"See, he's not dead." Ray growls at Frank. Bob ignores the part where Ray is actually growling for the moment.

Gerard kind of blinks, and stirs enough to stuff the composition notebook into the couch cushions and look at Frank. "Who's not dead?"

"You asshole." Frank says sounding about three and lost and scared.

"He's been having nightmares about me killin' you. Jamia called twice over the weekend and made me swear to Frankie you were alive." Bob offers grabbing Ray's arm and digging fingers in hard enough that there's going to be bruises and that is entirely the point. Ray flinches and gives Bob a dirty look that still manages to be worried and doesn't pull away. "You two...giggle, make out, prove no one's dead. You leave the apartment I will beat you both black and blue and straight to the fucking emergency room I swear to god. Going to run to the corner and get smokes." Bob manages.

Yeah, well. Damage done, it would be worse to make a scene over it, and since Ray was the one to haul Frank's ass over, Frank didn't have anything on him stronger than Marlboros. They were low on cigarettes--the one thing Gerard seemed to be doing without prompting was smoking--and committing murder in front of Frank and Gerard in the shape they were in just now was cruel. Bob drags Ray out the door and down the hall. He slams Ray against the wall. "ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?"

"Well it was bring him over fucked up or bring him over on the edge of a nervous break down climbing the fucking walls. But him not seeing Gerard was just not an option."

"Fuck," Bob growls, lets go of Ray and runs his hand through his hair. "Jamia's seriously been calling. Frank's having nightmares about Gerard ODing or slitting his wrists or some shit. Saturday and Sunday night twice, and four fucking times last night."

"She didn't look so hot either. Pissed as hell actually when I picked Frank up. I dunno what the fuck." Ray shrugs tiredly. "One of the dogs is sick and I'm not so sure they aren't havin a rough patch of their own, or maybe somethin' with Skeleton Crew..."

"Great. You seen Mikes the last few days? He looked ready to snap when we had dinner with their folks Wednesday night."

"If all three of them decide to have simultaneous nervous breakdowns..."

"Have to talk to Brian and he arrange to have us all stuck on the same fucking locked ward." Bob mutters. "One of these days it's gonna be our turn and then everyone's fucked."

"Yep." Ray agrees. "You seriously need smokes?"

"Yeah, and you're buying my wallet's on the kitchen counter."

~*~

When they get back to the apartment Gerard's sprawled flat on his back on the couch and Frank passed out on top of him, "Shh,"

Bob grins. "Shh yourself," he whispers back.

"Frank's tired,"

Bob and Ray both nod.

"Gonna call Mikey." Bob murmurs and heads to the kitchen. Twenty minutes later Alicia drops Mikey off, all sharp edges and haunted-eyed. Mikey is parked on the floor in front of the couch between Bob and Ray and video games on mute and pizza ensue. Frank wakes up about ten, in time to devour the last pizza entirely on his own and be shuffled off, Ray taking Frank home and turning him over to Jamia to put to bed.

Mikey ends up staying and for one skinny beanpole he could hog three fourths the fucking bed. Goddamned octapus in his sleep. Somehow Bob finds himself on the edge of the bed that night, each movement waking him up afraid he's going to land on the floor.

Somehow mostly being Gerard looking lost and asking "Why?" when Bob murmured something about making up the couch to sleep on and let Mikey and Gee have the bed. And the assholes would give him no end of hell if he did fall out of the bed once they were in shape to, even if it was their fault, so he really didn't want to land on the floor.

~*~

They turn Mikey back over to Alicia at Wednesday night dinner with the parents. Alicia nearly as sharp edged as Mikey had been the night before but relaxing and smiling after staring at Mikey for a couple moments and evidently seeing the shift or whatever she'd been hoping for. Alicia gives Bob a worried look. Bob gives her a, hopefully, reassuring smile. Not sure what she wants, confirmation her Mikey's not hurt by the impromptu overnight or that Bob doesn't think her Mikey's strange or some damn thing. Which, is really, ridiculous. Mikey's Mikey. Gerard's Gerard. And Bob had spent the night clinging to the edge of the bed trying not to land on the floor. He's lived with them for the better part of four years on a fucking bus. Hell yes they're strange.

He's entitled to think they're weirdos, but they're also his weirdos, along with Frank and Ray, and he's not exactly the poster boy for normal when he's gotten to the point that he doesn't even wake up if Frank crawls in his bunk, or think twice about just shoving Frank to the wall if he gets to his bunk and Frank's there on the bus. Conversations out of the blue begining with "Spiderman's a whiny bitch" or some comic reference with no context or logical connection to anything else said within the last four hours, raging days-long arguments about invisibility or flying being the cooler superpower are perfectly normal occurances these days.

Gerard's a little more coherent in protestations over his baby pictures being dragged out for one and all this week. Mikey is whining and groaning and muttering "oh god" as his pictures were Gerard's pictures at least past the point Mikey came into existence, unless it was a school thing that was seperated by grade, they were side by side in picture after picture, inseperable.

Bob reaches past Gerard and pinches Mikey's cheek. "You were so cute in your diaper running after Gee."

Mikey blushes and slaps Bob's hand away, eyes sparking with names he's not saying in front of his mother but dearly wants to call Bob just now.

"Hey! Quit pickin' on Mikey or I'll make you sleep on the couch." Gerard rouses himself enough into the land of the living to shove Bob a little.

"Yeah, right, that'll last an hour and you'll be out on the couch laying on top of me." Bob snorts forgetting where he is and who is present, and Jesus did he actually say that in front of Mikey and Gerard's mom? No matter how innocent and platonic he meant it and if anyone knew how Mikey and Gerard could be it was their mom.

"Probably," Gerard makes things that much worse by agreeing obliviously.

Alicia, damn her, gets the giggles.

~*~

Thursday Gerard eats almost a third of his lunch without prompting.

~*~

Week four goes much the same way as the others, just a bit more. Monday the therapist in the morning. Jamia and Frank in the evening and whatever had been off-key there seems to have smoothed out. It was Frank and Jamia. There was no question of it not smoothing out, because that would be like the sun rising in the west. It could be as simple as Jamia going nuts with Frank bouncing through the house when she was left alone so much that it set her on edge and Frank that much more...more Frank with Gee being a wreck.

*

Tuesday afternoon Mikey and Alicia are at the door and Alicia's gone without so much as setting foot in the apartment, kissing Mikey on the cheek and calling out 'see you at supper tomorrow.' Which has kinda become the Wednesday thing, dinner with Gee and Mikey's folks. Bob could live without clinging to all of three inches of the goddamned mattress all night and praying not to land on the floor becoming the Tuesday night thing.

Wednesday had Alicia, damn her, giggling. Bob finds himself hoping she chokes as Bob gets the subtle third degree about his family and where he went to school. He knows he's not imagining things because Mikey's eyes are ready to bug out of his head and has this doesn't know whether to shit, go blind, or die laughing look.

Bob decides he's going to have to do something very evil to Alicia when she mentions she and Jamia are going out the next afternoon. Mikey and Frank can hang out with Gee and Bob can go with them.

Mikey loses it when his mother wonders aloud if Gerard wouldn't enjoy the girls afternoon out more than Bob. Thankfully Gerard is in the bathroom just then so trying to explain how his mother got the idea they were together was avoided. But it really doesn't help matters when Gee returns to the living room and plops momentarily in Bob's lap. "Think we're going to head home, mom, I didn't get much sleep last night and my appointments at eight tomorrow."

If it wouldn't end up with Mikey having a breakdown, Bob would cheerfully strangle Alicia Way and her shaking the entire fucking couch with trying not to make a sound and appear composed while inside she was all but rolling on the floor howling.

*

Thursday Alicia and Mikey show up first.

"I'm going to kill you both," Bob says as he opened the door.

Alicia starts cackling.

"Can we keep your amusement from Frank? I'm too fucking tired to put up with Frank."

"Oh yeah. Cause I want to see Gee's face when he figures it out." Mikey grins.

Alicia laughs.

"The next time you drop your bed hogging octopus off I'm coming to your house to sleep." Bob snorts at Alicia.

"Yeah, Gee won't let him sleep on the couch when I'm here." Mikey smirks and reaches for his wife before she falls down laughing.

"Oh yay, my life is fucking complete," Bob mutters as Frank and Jamia arrive with Ray and Christa.

"C'mon, Bob," Alicia grins.

"Oh just shut the fuck up and don't ask, Toro," Bob mutters as he allows himself to be dragged along by Alicia, an afternoon out of the fucking apartment was yeah, he needed the hell out. Gee was safe with the guys, and even with Alicia giggling, it was out of the apartment.

"I'll drive" Bob mutters and glares half-heartedly at Alicia. "Death by cackling driver is not my idea of an afternoon out."

"You are so getting a manicure." Alicia giggles handing him the keys.

"Laugh it up. Just Laugh it up. You'll be laughing Tuesday when I come crawl in bed with you to escape your octopus."


The women are all gasping for breath by the time Alicia gets to her mother-in-law's thought that Gerard might enjoy the afternoon with the girls more than Bob. Jamia's all but pissing her pants when Alicia's done with the story. Christa's nearly wheezing. Bob's nearly scarlet he's blushing so hard but obediently changes lanes on Alicia's orders.

"DONT YOU DARE FUCKING SAY A WORD TO FRANK" Bob manages to growl out over the laughter.

"Oh. God. No." Jamia says sobering. "Gee's more with it, we don't need him taking off hiding again if Frank teases him into a second breakdown accidentally. As soon as Gerard's back to Gerard though..."

Bob knows that's the best he can ask for.

"So does Kat know about this..." Jamia teases.

Bob swallows and pushes down the ache. "Kat's...yeah. Done with me."

"What?" Alicia asks.

"I'm gone and gone, then drop and run here and...eh. She doesn't want a rockstar, she wants a banker." and wasn't that a load of shit but still a thread of the truth.

"Road's a bitch when you're at home too." Christa says quietly. "But better now than a mortgage and couple kids from now, Bob."

"Yeah." Bob agrees. He glances in the rearview mirror eyeing Christa.

"I want Ray. Ray's not a banker, so I deal with the other crap."

Alicia and Jamia nod. It's different for them. Jamia and Frank are ...JamiaandFrank and while the road takes it's toll, the idea of one existing without the other is kinda more far fetched than them all waking up with superpowers--which Bob, unfortuantely, has to admit, has been discussed in depth with speculation on what their superpowers would be and who would have the coolest on the bus. Alicia is part of it on her own. Tech, has done fill in gigs and hell, it could be her on the road and Mikey waiting at home sometime.

*

"Just...shut the fuck up, Toro," Bob growls as he enters the apartment.

"Your nails look nice," Mikey grins.

Frank giggles.

Gerard looks slightly worried for a moment, almost guilty.

"I'm killing your brother and your sister-in-law, Gee."

"Okay. Just don't kill them permanently or to the point of needing medical attention."

"Well, ruin all my fun, why don't you?" Bob sighs.

Frank falls off the couch cackling like a hyena. Thankfully Alicia, Jamia and Christa aren't cruel and haul their men home for supper or what the hell ever.

Black sharpie is one thing, but damn...Bob ignores his maroon lacquered fingernails as he sits down at his drums.

*

"Huh," Gee says out of the blue, Friday afternoon. Bob feels it more than hears it and stops it's more than past time to quit anyway, he can feel the burn all the way up to his eyebrows.

"Huh what?"


"Just what the fuck have I all written or drawn while you practice?"

"Dunno I haven't looked and I haven't even let Mikey see it. That's the seventh tablet though."

"It is?"

"They're only little ones. And it's been a month."

"We need to start writing, for the new album."

"Cool. Just so you don't have us stuck with melodramatic emo shit for the next three years touring."

Gerard laughs, tired and a bit hollow, but real.

~*~*~*~

"C'mon, Gee, get your ass in the shower, therapist this morning."

To Bob's surprise, Gerard's awake and sitting on the edge of the bed. Which, in all honesty gives them another half hour he's figured in fighting Gerard to move or be prodded into moving time into almost everything by now. But Gerard had been more...here since Friday afternoon. Sort of. He'd spent the weekend on the couch looking at the composition books he'd filled on automatic pilot the last month and needed to be reminded to eat, but that hadn't taken more than putting food in front of him.

Gerard made up his mind to do something, he generally did it, maybe in stops and starts and screw ups and general anarchy, chaos and maybe a few set backs along the way, but he generally did it, and Bob was starting to think Gee had made up his mind to rejoin the living. Even his absent forgetting to eat over the weekend was more alive than he had been.

"I've been pretty out of it?"

"You've been using me for a fucking teddy bear for a month." is all Bob can say to that. It's a bit more detailed than 'duh' and conveys just how much Gee's scared the fuck outta them all.

"Sorry?"

"Don't be." Bob hands Gerard the cup of coffee and sits down next to him.

"Time?"

"Drag your ass out of bed time figured in, got a minute."

Gerard nods. "Maroon's a good color for you."

"Your sister-in-law is an evil evil woman," Bob snorts, glad the polish is starting to chip. "Next time you get to go on the girls afternoon out."

"Why the hell did you go? I was that bad you needed away or.."

"Your sister-in-law is an evil evil woman," Bob repeats.

"Oookay."

~*~

Week Five is totally different despite not much changing, other than Gerard speaking volutarily on occasion and needing no more prompting to eat than food put in front of him.

"I really ought to leave and go crawl in bed with your wife, you damn octopus." Bob mutters Tuesday night, Mikey was once again there. He falls asleep clinging to the edge of the mattress, Gee pressed close and the two asses giggling like little girls. Bob couldn't bring himself to grumble, this was the closest to normal Gerard or Mikey had sounded in a couple months, more like three or four, once things started getting tense then downright sketchy with Gee and Lindsay.

*

"Bob..." Gerard begins somewhat dazed as they got in the car to head for home.

"What?"

"My mother...cornered me in the kitchen."

"Oh shit," Bob chokes. "Do I want to know?"

"Why does she think we're together?"

"You threatened to make me sleep on the couch a couple weeks back. I was fucking beat and didn't think said that that would last an hour and you'd be on top of me, you agreed that's probably what would happen. Alicia nearly pissed herself and Mikey about had a heart attack."

"She thinks you're delightful, and much better for me than Bert ever was...and...Oh fuck..."

"Yeah, that was kinda my reaction." Bob agrees evenly, because laughing at the expression on Gerard's face at the moment was cruel.

"Can we make sure Frank kinda never knows this?"

"Not a chance in hell. I was hauled out to shop and get my nails done by Alicia, Jamia and Christa, who cackled all. fucking. afternoon. And your mom probably had a point that you'd be the one to enjoy the girls afternoon more than me out of the two of us. She said as much to Alicia...in front of me and Mikey, you were in the bathroom, then came out and plopped in my lap and announced we needed to go home because you didn't get any sleep the night before last week."

"I'm going to kill Mikey and Alicia."

"You said I couldn't--at least not kill them permanently or bad enough that they needed medical attention."

"Think we could shave their cat?"

"I think Alicia would kill us. And the cat didn't do anything. Poor thing's are already subjected to being dressed up like a baby doll or something."

*

"This is kinda awkward..."

Bob agrees silently, because Jesus, Gee's all wound up and being fucking stupid. Damn why did his mother have to corner him and...okay the whole situation is past ridiculous but well, he's been with these guys for how long now? Yeah, not a shock. There wasn't a file somewhere marked "only them" there was a fucking set of encyclopedia.

"Oh gimme a fucking break, Gee, I'm not listening to you toss turn and pace all fucking night. I somlemnly swear I have no designs on your ass, now get in bed and get the fuck to sleep. Eight o'clock at the therapist tomorrow."

"Who the fuck is the genius that makes an appointment that fucking early?"

"This genius. To escape your mother while you were so out of it you were defenseless and completely out of it giving her reason to start thinking about grandchildren adopted from Cambodia or Africa or something." Bob snorts.

"You are a genius."

"And don't you fucking forget it," Bob snorts and grabs Gerard by the tshirt hauling him down onto the bed, throws the covers over both of them and hugs Gerard close. "Go to sleep and stop being stupid."

Bob sighs softly when Gerard finally relaxes. "I--"

"If you apologize, you're getting your ass kicked. You'd do the same for any one of us."

"If I wasn't kinda the one needing my ass saved all the time,"

"You do more than you realize, now shush and sleep" Bob says softly and rubs Gerard's back.

"You do make a nice teddybear."

"Oh fuck you, go to sleep," Bob laughs and tightens his arms around Gerard for a minute, finally wholly convinced Gerard's made up his mind to rejoin the living, which was going to take a while Bob was sure, and probably result in a multitude of mini-breakdowns from Gerard and everyone else, but somehow a corner got turned and Bob felt the last of the ice and fear in his veins melt away.