InsaneJournal

FIC: Art of Codependency: Therapy--mcr--gen, mature
Title: Art of Codependency: Therapy
Author: Lise (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: varying
Summary: "I tried explaining you guys..." "And he thinks you're fucking nuts,"
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 || Bob



"I think he thinks I'm delusional."

Bob looks up at Gerard and chokes. "Paranoid much?"

"I tried to explain you guys and..."

"He thinks you're fucking nuts," Bob snorts, his words earning him a glare from the receptionist and the guy standing behind Gee.

"Yeah."

"I'm Dr. Crier.."

"I'm Bob the Drummer."

"And the one that my mother thinks I'm dating."

Bob chokes. "Yeah, well, when you complain I have a cold and was snoring at supper last night, it doesn't do much to dissuade her from that."

"I wasn't thinking."

"Yeah, well, next Tuesday I'm sleeping with Alicia, cause I've had it with three inches of mattress." Bob grins going along with the wicked gleam in Gerard's eye. "Mikey sleeps over on Tuesdays, the bed gets crowded."

"C'mon, admit it, you just want to sleep with my brother's wife."

"Oh, yeah, sure, Gee." Bob snorts fighting laughter. "She's hot and all but I'm still in the camp of wanting to strangle her."

"He wants to cure me of co-dependency."

Bob looks at Gerard in baffled horror a moment. Then looks over Gerard's shoulder at the shrink. "He's in a band, it's practically required."

"Group therapy..."

Bob stares at Gerard a long moment. "Okay, not like any of us will argue if that's what you need. Won't hurt Mikes either. Gonna have Jamia and Alicia and Christa join in some?"

"What about Kat?"

"Ah, that was my break in Chicago. Her or the band, I'm in Jersey."

"My fault," Gerard seems to fucking shrink.

"Oh fuck you, you goddamned moron!" Bob growls and gets to his feet. "I will fucking kick your ass if I hear that again."

"You and my ass, Bryar."

"It's a bony ass. You need to eat more."

"You picked the band because of me..."

"Oh yeah, right, not because this isn't what I was after even back when I was doing sound for the Used? Yeah. Fuck that. Because I'd've been in Jersey for Frank's breakdown, or Ray's, or Mikey's--"

"If Mikey had another breakdown you'd be here holding my hand anyway,"

"Yeah. And your point is?" Bob snorts. "You guys...If I fucking called from Chicago, Jamia, Alicia, and Christa would be packing Frank, Mikey and Ray's bags. And then Jamia and Alicia'd probably try to pack yours and haul your asses to the next flight to get to me. Kat...just no. Don't even try to say that was your fault you stupid fucker or I. will. kick. your. ass. And if that doesn't work, I'll kiss you in front of your mother just to make your life complete hell trying to explain it was just a platonic kiss, which I think you used up the quota in Used-related antics and Frank on stage with that."

"You would, you fucker," Gerard laughs.

Jacob Crier merely stares.

"I thought you liked this one"

"Yeah"

"You sure you want us to break him?"

"He doesn't get it and..."

"Okay. So what's open for group therapy appointments. And just the band for starters or the girls too?"

The receptionist blinks.

"Just us."

"Well whatcha got? And gimme your phone, Gee. Frank is two?"

"Yeah, Mikes is one."

"Duh," Bob snorts.

The receptionist and Jacob stare as Bob juggles phones setting up the appointment.

"Quit being fucking stupid, moron," Bob growls not even looking, he can feel Gee getting wound and withdrawing. He reaches blindly behind him and pulls Gerard forward, causing Gerard to stumble into his back.

Gerard almost reflexively wraps his arms around, Bob's waist and he presses his face between Bob's shoulder blades. "Here, talk to the dumbfuck, he's goin' stupid on us about this. I've got Frank on Gee's phone and Jamia's trying to get Mikes on the housephone and Alicia on hers so we can all get it in order here. Yeah."

"We need to get Bob laid. Christa know anyone?" Gerard asks. Bob reaches over his shoulder and whacks the top of Gerard's head. "Ray, Bob hit me."

"Frank wants to know what the fuck is so funny?" Bob asks when Gerard's cackling from whatever Ray had said slowed down.

"Ray thought I was the one laying you and he's going to get me a spousal abuse hotline number." Gerard says loudly.

Bob holds the phone away from his ear as Frank's Hyena cackles fill the air. "DEAD MEAT, TORO!" Bob says loudly twisting his head, Gerard obligingly holding the phone toward Bob. "And how the hell did I get to be the fuck-ee in this fucked up mess?"

"You're the one that got your nails done with the wives." Gerard snickered.

"That's cause Alicia is evil. And even your mother thought you'd be the one to enjoy the girls' afternoon more than me...Mikey and Frank both have tomorrow afternoon free."

"Ray?" Gerard asks into the phone and then relays, "Ray can make it free."

"Clear the afternoon. Uhm, Mr..."

"Bryar," Gerard offers, "Bob Bryar."

"I could make time this morning an hour for you and an hour couples therapy.."

"Frank...JAMIA!!!!!" Bob bellowed into the phone as the hyena cackles rent the air again. "Hey yeah, uh, you want to send your idiot down here to hang with Gee while I do the shrink bit, poor bastard is watching this like we need committed. Sure yeah he can stay, he doesn't hog the bed like Mikey does." Bob says even as he feels Gerard's nod against his back. "For god's sake, yes I do know that. He's crawled in my bunk when there's no one else around or whatever. Yep. He's like that. Yep. Okay. Thanks, Jamia."

"Ray? Want to come too? We need someone to keep Frank from wrecking the office when we're in couples therapy." Gerard giggles.

"FUCK YOU, TORO," Bob hollers, he has no idea what the hell Ray's answer is other than he'll Frank-sit, but it's Ray and he probably said something worthy of the fuck you judging by Gerard's attempt not to giggle that comes out mostly as a snort. "Mikey's coming too. Jamia tell him we didn't want to leave him out for fucks sake. Thanks Jamia, and tell Alicia she's evil."

"Clear today."

The receptionist nods.

"Be about twenty, mind if we go down for a smoke? You can come with." Gerard asks quietly, then presses his face into Bob's back.

Bob reaches back over his shoulder and tangles his fingers in messy black hair for a minute, tugging gently. "Hey, the fuck, Gee? Need to get everyone's ass in line if we're going to start writing in a couple weeks."

"I--"

"WAY," Bob growls.

"Bryar"

Bob turns shoving both phones in his hoodie pocket and pulls Gerard in for a hug, pressing their foreheads togther and fingers once again tangling in Gerard's hair. "Fucking stop it."

"Yeah."

"Gee, I swear I'm going to..."

"Yeah, yeah."

"C'mon I need a cigarette and brace myself. Frank's going to be flying when he gets here. It's obvious we're getting you back permanently from zombie-land so he's going to be flyin' higher than a fucking kite. I will say right now I'm not responsible for my actions if he sticks his damn tongue in my ear."

Gerard snorts. "What if he just humps your leg?"

"Frank's always humping someone's leg, who even notices that anymore?" Bob shoots back drolly. "Swear he was in fucking heat last summer."

Bob keeps his arm around Gerard's shoulders as they ride the elavator down to the ground floor, the therapist with them looking at them oddly. Gerard's head on Bob's shoulder, half hiding his face in Bob's neck, his arm around Bob's waist and turned into him, with the usual lack of idea of personal space that permeated the band, probably caught from Frank, Gee was pressed completely against Bob not a breath of air between them.

Mikey arrives first.

Bob stifles a growl and grabs for Mikey, tugging him away from Alicia and pulling Mikey flush against Bob's chest one armed, Gee still plastered to Bob's side. "Your brother's got the market cornered on stupid ass today, don't you dare start, Mikes. We want you here, just worried about you too, cause fuck this is Gee. And you're Mikey."

"Gee?"

"Fucking you up again, ain't I?" Gerard whispers.

"Gee," Mikey half growls and Bob lets go of them both so Gerard can hold his brother. He pulls two cigarettes from his pack and lights them handing one to Gerard. Ray ambles up and ruffles Mikey's hair. "S'okay, Mikes," Ray murmurs.

Bob staggers as every ounce of Frank is suddenly on his back, legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck, and jesusfuck one of these days he's going to kill Frankie. The little pissant sticks his tongue in Bob's ear. Then the little fucker has the nerve to steal Bob's cigarette out of his mouth and start that fucking hyena giggle up.

Gee starts his mad-hatter's cackle and Mikey's sniffling out giggles into Gerard's neck. Ray's laughing and Bob is going to just kill Frank.

"Sorry, Jamia, but he's going to die." Bob growls.

Frank drops off Bob's back and half skips off. Bob's cigarette still in hand. Bob chases after him and catches Frank, slinging him over his shoulder. Frank cackling all the while. "You fucking little motherfucker!" Bob snarls, only half-teasingly, and slaps Frank's ass hard.

"OW! YOU LITTLE MOTHERFUCKER!" Bob bellows as sharp teeth press through his jeans. Frank fucking bit his ass! Mikey, Gerard and Ray are giggling and weaving like they're drunk trying to hold each other up. Bob heads for the patch of grass and drops Frank to the ground less than gently.

"OW!" Frank tries to complain.

"YOU BIT MY ASS, YOU CRAZY LITTLE FUCKER! KEEP THE ASS BITING FOR JAMIA OR FOR GEE ON STAGE!"

Jacob Crier can only stare and wonder what on earth the next couple hours were going to bring, and wondering just how far over his head he was in with this bunch.

Bob lights another cigarette and laughs as Jamia whacks Frank's nose and mouth with a rolled up magazine from her near-duffle sized purse. "Behave, no more biting Bob or he won't let you stay over with him and Gee tonight."

Frank affects an exaggerated pout and fake-sniffles "Bob doesn't love me anymore."

Jamia rolls her eyes. "He adores you, he dropped your ass on the grass, not the concrete."

Frank beams at Bob. "You love me."

Bob growls wordlessly and rolls his eyes.

"Your nails are looking crappy again." Alicia announced.

Jamia's eyes snap to Bob. "Yep. They are. Thursday afternoon. You're coming with this week." Jamia decided. "Ray tell Christa I'll call her tonight."

"Hey, are you in the Band or the Bands Wives now, Bob?"

"Gonna get you for that, Mikey Way!"

Mikey starts running.

Bob chases and tackles him, carefully because Mikey's looking fragile around the edges, taking most of the fall onto the patch of grass near Frank and starts tickling Mikey.

"GEEE!!" Mikey squeals out through giggles.

Gerard's there laughing and on Bob's back. "Quit pickin on my brother, fucker."

And Frank joins in because it's a piled up tickle fight and like Frank is missing out on that.

Jamia shakes her head, moving to put an arm around Alicia and deadpans, "You're our only hope, Ray Toro, they seem to have completely assimilated Bob."

Alicia snickers. Ray laughs, eyes worried on Alicia a second. Ray quirks an eyebrow and his eyes dart toward the tussling pile of bodies, who, by some fucking miracle, were managing uninjured with three lit cigarettes in the mix as well. Alicia's lips pressed into a tight little line and a short sharp jerky shrug, then she glanced back toward the tickle fight and smiled softly.

"Swear to God, Alicia,"

"I know. He knows, just..."

"Yeah." Ray agrees. "I'm Ray Toro," he offers his hand to the dazed guy. "You Gee's therapist?"

"Yes, I'm Jacob Crier."

"I'm Jamia Nestor, Frank's fiancee. Frank's the one with the tattoos and that damn giggle over there."

"Alicia Way, Mikey's wife."

Jamia glances back over, rolls her eyes, and gives a shrill whistle. Frank's head automatically pops back up and he pulls back from the tickle fight worried, the ticklefight immediately freezes with the insta-shift in Frank.

"What the fuck? The dogs are at home?" Frank looks at Jamia confused.

Ray's laughing, Bob rolls and is laying on his back Gee and Mikey both sprawled on him all three laughing convulsively. Bob's arm stretched up above his head with his cigarette in his hand Gee's arm and hand holding his cigarette stretched out along Bob's.

"Go kiss your wife goodbye, Mikes, you wanna stay tonight too?" Bob murmurs when he's caught his breath.

Mikey nods into Gerard's shoulder before he pushes himself up and goes to walk Alicia back to their car.

"I'm fucking him up again," Gerard whispers.

Bob hugs Gerard tight. "Stop it," Bob growls quietly as Frank gets to his feet still confused and heads to Jamia, confusion melting to rueful laughter at her arched eyebrow.

"Be back," Frank calls and follows Mikey's example walking Jamia back to their car and grabbing his duffle.

Bob simply lays on the ground holding Gerard until Mikey and Frank are back.


~*~

Jacob tries to start sorting through the ties, the currents as they ride the elavator back up to his offices.

Gerard and Mikey were brothers. Gerard was the singer. Mikey was the bassist. Ray was lead guitar, Frank was the rhythm guitar, Bob was the drummer.

Alicia was Mikey's wife. Jamia was Frank's fiancee. Christa was Ray's lady. Brian was their manager. Worm was their security head and all around savior some days. Cortez was halfway theirs. When Mikey needed a break, Matt Cortez would step in and he was a great guy, a good friend, but the five of them were different.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Gerard," Bob growls grabbing Gerard by the back of the head, tangling fingers in his hair and pressing thier forheads together. "It's fine."

Gerard swallows.

Bob steers Gerard to the chairs in front of the tv in the waiting room. He catches Frank on the way, Gerard is pushed into the chair, Frank on his lap. Ray settles in the next chair and tugs a suddenly worn and weary looking Mikey in his lap.

Frank's head is on Gerard's shoulder, his legs swung up and in Mikey's lap. Gerard's head lolls to Ray's shoulder and his hand reaches for Mikey's.

Bob raises and eyebrow at Ray who gives him a tired smile. They were all fucked to hell, but this was the most normal for a long time.

*

Bob sits down uncomfortably in the chair, fighting the urge to laugh, between nervousness and the obvious struggle the poor therapist was having to not gape or scratch his head at his door, because that was in front of him and because of the four left in the waiting room and the chaos downstairs.

"Breaking us of codependency would probably break all of us completely, especially now. For fuck's sake we've spent years on a goddamned bus. I came in right after Gee sobered up and got clean. The original drummer left then. But there just after and since, and Mikey's breakdown..and a lot of shit. We're..." Bob trails off and shrugs. "This is how we exist."

Jacob said cautiously. "That's not necessarily healthy"

"Yeah, we've already asked Brian to make sure we get put on the same locked ward when it comes to that." Bob snorts. "Jamia and Alicia can bring all of us cookies and bring Gerard crayons and drawing paper."

Not fidgeting takes herculean effort. He wants a cigarette. Wants the guys. Wants the fuck outta here and not hear their names for a goddamned month because he's starting to drown, but he can't because he's Gerard's place to lean right now, and he really doesn't have fucking anywhere else to go just now. No where he really wants to be.

"Where would you be if you weren't with Gerard,"

"With Gerard...as in making sure he's eating and not killing himself just now? Or--whatever. Hell it's not worth arguing with his mother so whatever." Bob breaks off and shakes his head. "I'd be home, in Chicago. The other four, they're from here."

Jacob nods.

Bob fights the urge to roll his eyes.

"What would you be doing in Chicago?"

Bob shrugs. "Probably be drunk or hung over, fuckin' around at clubs, playing with the sound boards with friends, maybe picking up a few jam sessions on shitty kits cause wouldn't've touched mine. Wallowing over Kat and partying too fucking much."

"Kat?"

Bob shrugs again. "My ex-girlfriend. We split up a week after I hit home. Was there for three weeks. Mikey took the first week, Frank the second, Ray the third, then I've been out here since."

"May I ask why?"

Bob's hands itch. He wants a cigarette, his drumsticks...fucking something. Anything. He. Was. Not. Going. To. Fidget.

"The road and them had more than she did, and she finally couldn't take that. Had five calls a day, this that the other. Gee so fucked up. Mikey shaky. Frank going batshit and winding himself up and the way he gets rid of nervous energy having even Ray ready to kill him. Brian trying to figure out what the fuck, comparing notes with him on what he got from Ray, Mikey and Frank and what I got and figuring out what the fuck wasn't said. The road she could handle, barely. The final straw was catching on that the five of us are...that tied up. Mikey has to walk away when he needs his breaks, when he's shattering. Gee needs everyone and held onto to keep him here. Frank needs Jamia to ground him or he's...a livewire flying wildly around. He starts goin someone calls Jamia and she gets out to visit as soon as she can." Bob shrugs. "Frank and Mikey hit their limit. Ray, didn't work for Ray to hold onto Gee this round, so I'm here. And here's probably better than fucked up off my ass and fuckin' a girl who just wants to say she nailed someone from My Chemical Romance a couple times a week and on my own."

*

"Cigarette break" Bob says as he reemerges from the office. Fuck. Does. He. Need. A. Cigarette. He's ready to crawl out of his goddamned skin and would prefer getting drunk and not thinking more than anything, but that one's not even a consideration.

Gerard's plastered to his side, and Frank, fucking monkey that he is, is on Bob's back on the ride down to head outside. Ray's got an arm around Mikey's shoulder, keeping him pinned down in a way. Mikey has the look like he's ready to bolt, and that's the last fucking thing they need, not now, not when Gerard's half way back amongst the living and they're going to start writing. Probably shit, and probably take three times longer than it would otherwise but a start.

Gerard lights three cigarettes, putting one in Frank's mouth and passing one to Bob.

And as long as it had taken him to adjust to the utter lack of personal space, he was thankful for the steadying of Frank on his back and Gee nearly tripping them both the strange angle he was plastered against Bob and trying to walk at the same time. Privacy? That was a no-brainer it was gone. You lived in a van. On a bus. A shower was a fucking world changing event. A garden hose and it being warm enough to use the garden hose was a thing of beauty. Privacy, fuck that. That was gone about ten hours out from home.

Privacy was an illusion created by cranked headphones and closed eyes for the sake of a demented etiquette that ruled road travel. One of those things done to try to avoid bloodshed when nerves were ran raw by endless stretches of concrete and asphalt.

Illusions of Privacy they could do, hell even real privacy at times, when they could, when they knew it was necessary, when it came to specific things. Ray's time in the back of the bus with his guitar. Mikey's time in the bunks on the phone with Alicia and all of them resolutely in the lounge, with ipods cranked up loud. No one touched Gerard's notebooks or sketchpads more than to move them out of the way so something didn't get spilt on them or didn't sit on them. Gee would show what was in them when and if he wanted. They didn't look.

Personal space was sketchy, by nature of touring it really was because there just wasn't space in a van or on a bus or you were so fucking beat or fucked up on booze or dope you didn't give a shit. Stone cold sober, well rested and room enough for everyone, these guys still piled ontop of each other, not for cameras, not for image, not for one shaky and needing the grounding, well not just for one shaky and needing grounding. It simply didn't occur to them to not. Especially Frank. There were times and days "DONT TOUCH BACK OFF" was a neon sign fifty feet high and Frank would miss it until he slammed straight into it, and then be half hurt for the rest of the day. He got that other people just needed left the fuck alone, at least intellectually, but hell for Frank was being by himself. Being alone. Silence, stillness, alone. Frank would probably just curl up and die within a couple hours of that.

"Don't have to," Gerard murmurs when Bob's down to his second to last drag.

Bob rolls his eyes. Though fuck...couples therapy, with him and Gerard as the couple. That was, god, fucking hilarious. And the Boardies would have a fucking field day with it if they ever caught wind of it.

Frank starts giggling in Bob's ear, almost as if he heard what Bob was thinking.

"Fuck you, Iero,"

"Time and place, Bryar," Frankie laughs.

"Gotta plan these things cause Jamia'd want to watch." Gerard teases half heartedly, eyes still worried and on Bob.

Frank groans, blushing a little.

Mikey snickers.

Frank flips him off.

Gerard looks at Frank. "If you fucked my brother while Jamia and Alicia watched, I don't want to know."

"Me either," Bob chokes. Scariest thing of all--he really doesn't find it all that far fetched. Mikey can be a kinky little fucker when Gee ain't watching.

"Or me." Ray says giving Mikey's shoulder a squeeze.

"You..."

Bob rolls his eyes. Gerard's entirely too...something. "I'm not pissed, Gee. And hell I'm the one you're living with twentyfour seven. Roommates therapy ain't going to hurt, or group for all of us." He's raw, twitchy and would much rather have a fucking rootcanal than go back into that office, and he knows Gerard is picking up on a chunk of that.

Gerard looks...guilt and self-loathing Bob thinks are what he sees.

"Hey, we're all fucked up. You're just giving us the excuse to get a bit un-fucked up."

"Yeah, get to use you when the interviewers start asking about our time in therapy." Ray smiles easily drops his cigarette and crushes it even as he's pulling Mikey in front of him and wrapping arms around Mikey's waist, chin on Mikey's shoulder.

"Oh thanks a lot," Gerard laughs.

Mikey bursts out cackling, looking straight at their poor therapist, who, judging by the look on his face, is still stuck somewhere back at Gerard's outburst of not wanting to know about Mikey and Frank's hopefully fictitious sex with Jamia and Alicia watching.

~*~

Bob wants to run, put his fist through the fucking wall, anything but wrap his arm around Gerard's shoulders and head back into the damned office. But that's what he does.

Bob parks himself back in the chair and very determinedly not fidgets, and somehow manages not to wince as Gerard starts stalking back and forth.

"How do you not hate me? I fuckin' hate me,"

Bob catches Gerard three laps later and yanks him on his lap.

"Want to knock you through a wall every now and then, hell yeah, of course, hate you? Get over your stupid, Gee, you're not all that hateable. You're pretty fuckin' amazing even when I want to knock you through a wall."

"The shit in the comp books while you practiced--is fucking terrifying."

"Uh huh. I'm supposed to be surprised?"

Bob only gets the slightest glimpse of the bugged eyes of the therapist as Gerard stands and turns, and fucking straddles Bob's lap. He's pretty sure the shrink just joined the ranks of "Bob&Gerard will adopt kids from Africa someday" with Mrs. Way.

"I--"

"For the one with the words outta this bunch you get stuck a lot right there."

"You're the one with the English degree I went to Art School."

Bob ignores the poor bastard gaping at them and settles his hands on Gerard's hips rubbing just a little. "I don't hate you. Mikey sure as fuck doesn't. Frank and Ray don't."

"I'm a horrible big brother."

"So fucking horrible that I don't think Mikey knows how to breathe without you." Bob snorts. "You're not a horrible big brother. And Mikey knows when to tell you to go fuck yourself these days."

~

Jacob watches the pair a moment. In any other circumstance he'd love to have a couple in his office as affectionate and supportive and attuned. But...

He clears his throat. Gerard tenses. Bob bursts out laughing. Jacob stares as Gerard punches Bob in the shoulder, with a fair amount of force.

"Do either of you think it's wise to be starting a relationship just now?"

Jacob, nearly wants to flee his office at the look sent at him as Bob smashes Gerard's face into his shoulder and just GLARES.

*

"Fuckin' stop it,"

"Yeah, uh huh."

"WAY"

"BRYAR"

"We're not starting anything." Bob glares at Jacob.

"Yeah, the one thing I haven't fucked up yet in my entrie life is the band. I've fucked up EVERYTHING. I am not fucking up the band by fucking Bob."

"Yeah, you're the only fuck up. No one else has ever done shit wrong. We're all saints martyring ourselves hauling your ass along." Bob says voice dripping with sarcasm. "Stop it, Gee, stop it. And as for you, we ain't starting anything. This is just us, how we work, all five of us."

Gerard snorts into Bob's neck.

"It is when it needs to be and you know it, dickhead," Bob growls softly and rubs Gerard's back. "You get snot on my neck I'm calling your mother and asking her what your favorite soup is cause you caught my cold and I wanna make you some."

"Asshole," Gerard chokes.

"Ready to sit in your own chair?"

"Your lap's comfy," Gerard snarks, fingers digging a little into Bob's back.

"Fine, have it your way," Bob settles his arms around Gerard and acts like it's perfectly normal to carry on a conversation with a grown man straddling his lap. Which, while not common, certainly isn't something he hasn't done before. Hell, he'd even attempted to discuss chords with Ray with Frank straddling his lap, licking at his neck and ear. He'd had warning though, Mikey had warned him out of some idea of owing Bob that Frank decided Bob was going to be his next target for...some fucking game of Dare that only made sense in Frank's head.

*

Jacob blinks and tries to regain some control, or rather gain some control of the session, and...thinks he might not want to do the group sessions on his own.

"What's a typical day look like for the two of you?" He blurts trying to get some gage of, well anything.

"Monday I get woke up with coffee and orders to shower then therapy, lunch. Bob hands me a composition book and pen and then practices, supper, tv or dvd or video games, bed." Gerard says from Bob's neck.

"Tuesday drag his ass outta bed, breakfast, clean up the place. lunch. I practice, Gee draws or writes, Mikey gets dropped off sometime between four and five. Pizza. Hang out with Mikes. Cling to all one inch of the bed that Mikey leaves me, Gee only has about an inch too. Skinny little fuckin' octopus in his sleep. Wednesday's more of the same except Mikey's there hanging out too. And Gee takes a shower in the afternoon. Hit his folks by six, meet Alicia there and turn Mikey back over to her, have supper the Ways, Alicia and Mikey and hang out there til about nine." Bob picks up the recital.

"Thursday's a repeat of Monday, except if the girls kidnapped Bob and got his nails done then I hang with Ray, Frank, and Mikes and Bob practices in the evening til it's time to stop so the neighbors don't get pissed." Gerard continues not looking up.

"Weekends are pretty much the same. Frank usually comes to watch cartoons on Saturday morning. Sometimes Mikey does too. Ray shows up Sunday afternoons if his relatives are all smothery or whatever."

"How are you dealing with sharing space with each other?"

Gerard lifts his head and turns to look at Jacob. "We live on a fucking bus most of the time. My apartment's actually kinda big even if it's just a one bedroom."

Jacob winces. "I should phrase that as..." he tries to think of a way to phrase what he's getting at. "This is your break time?"

"Yeah."

"So how--"

"Chicago's lonely." Bob shrugs. "It's home and I love it and I miss it, the guys are in Jersey. Excuse to be here."

"No one sleeps on the couch?"

Bob shrugs. "Bed's comfortable. And it's just Gee."

"And Mikey on Tuesdays"

"And Frank and Mikey tonight."

"Yeah, but Frank curls up in a little ball and doesn't take up much space."

"No, he doesn't."

Jacob watches as Bob's hand moves so gently over Gerard's back. Gerard's appointment had been the first time he'd really spoken of Bob, or even that the guy who brought him to his appointments was his bandmate Bob, let alone current roommate Bob. Jacob hadn't realized the man was anything more than perhaps hired driver/security.

"Frank sleeps with everyone at one point or another. He crawls in with someone to keep from crawling out of his skin."

"You might want to rephrase that a bit considering you and Frank on stage." Bob snorts.

Gerard giggles.

Jacob tries to find safer, and hopefully more sensible ground, "So what does daily conversation look like?"

Bob chokes. Gerard tenses.

"Random shit, pizza or chinese, wanna go to a movie with Ray and Christa? Music." Bob shrugs.

"Not really been big on conversation lately," Gerard says quietly.

"What's your take on Gerard's split from Lindsay?" Jacob asks bluntly Gerard stiffens so abruptly and completely he almost vibrates right out of Bob's lap. Bob's hand moves a little more firmly over Gerard's back.

"What's there to be a take on?" Bob asks. "What went on is Gee's and Lindsay's business. We know all we need to, because we know Gerard. If he fucked up, he'd be sullen and bitchy until he got to where he'd be carrying on forever about everything he ever did wrong--not just the guilty idiot for dragging us all into therapy. If she'd fucked up, we'd've heard that somehow or another too. If not directly then in venom coming out one way or another, bitching out tv characters or some fuck thing. No one's fault, everyone's fault, fucking road and the lives we have. Just the way it is, and the last straw."

"You have no clue what happened between them?"

"No"

"Does that bother you? Since you're here and..."

"Taking care of me." Gerard says. "Bob's taking care of me. Makes sure I eat, sleep. shower, get where I'm supposed to be. Sign the papers I need to and takes care of my mail and bills and shit. Hell he balanced my bank account last week."

"Had to do mine and yours was piled up there."

"You're doing all that, came from Chicago to New Jersey, and don't know the reasons why?" Jacob asks, needing the clarification, that he was actually understanding this right.

"The reason's simple. He's Gerard, and I'm the one that it worked out to do this. And that's all there is..Mikey and Frank can't, not full time, and evidently Ray didn't work, so it was me."

"You never asked?" Jacob tries to keep his voice even, but a little confused disbelief creeps in.

"That's Gerard's. I could identify him by smell if he hasn't showered in a couple days, sure as hell can identify him by smell if he hasn't showered in a week. I could probably wander through an art supply store and pick out the brand of pencils and shit he uses by sight, so used to seeing them laying around the bus. Dunno what the fuck they are, don't pay attention, but I would know em if I saw em. I know what brand of make up and hair products he prefers, what sounds he makes when he jacks off and what he sounds like when he comes. Man we live on a fucking bus. I've had to break up fights over fucking comic book characters. Mikey and Ray have had to tackle me to keep me from strangling Frank and Gee's had to drag Frank off and wear him out while Mikey and Ray were sitting on me. You don't ask for more than what you need. We got what we need. Shit happened of the unavoidable no one's fault variety, they split, and that was the wall for Gee. So we go from there. There's fuckin' lines you don't cross. That's one. He could talk if he wanted, he hasn't so that's it."

Jacob nods slowly, "Lines are healthy, especially when--"

"You live in a fucking bus." Bob snorts.

"Why didn't you tell Gerard you'd split with your-"

"Girlfriend." Bob says, and doesn't think about the ring that Kat never saw, that he'd been trying to figure out how to...shit fell apart so fucking fast with the phone calls. Best the way it happened, at least in the long run, but still...

Bob winces slightly. "Jamia, Alicia and Christa have known a while. I have no idea if they told Frank, Mikey and Ray."

"Jamia, Alicia and Christa?"

"When your evil sister in law dragged me out, and I had to endure a fucking manicure."

"I still liked the maroon polish."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Jacob prods.

"Nothing to say. Had my drums. If I had to, Jamia and Alicia could keep an eye on Frank and Mikey watchin' Gee at first and coulda gone out and done somethin' with Ray...no interest in talkin' yet." Bob says tiredly. "And he'd think it was his fault and it wasn't. She couldn't handle what all comes with me. The road, them. And I wasn't giving the band up. It's just...shit that happens with guys like us."

*

"Why am I not surprised to see you?" Bob asks when they finally escape the office and the 'explain how you live on a bus without killing each other' questions. He gets that Jacob's trying to feel them out, and he gets just what they can be like when they're in the shape they're in these days.

Brian snorts. "The ladies called, and I was supposed to be in the other side of the office here anyway. That's Mark." Brian points to the guy sitting in the next seat.

*

Ray glances at Bob and grabs the back of Frank's shirt and keeps him tucked under his arm on the way down for a cigarette. Quiet is filled with listening to how Jacob would rather like Mark to sit in on the group sessions. Brian vouches for Mark being cool, and good at his shit so none of them really object.

When Bob lights his cigarette and wordlessly walks off, Brian frowns. "The fuck?"

Ray tightens his hold on Frank. Mikey glances at Gerard worriedly. "This have to do with him sayin' you were a dumbfuck and you sayin' we needed to get Bob laid?" Ray asks when Bob's rounded the corner of the building.

"Him and Kat split when he was home." Gerard answers quietly.

"How long you known that?" Mikey asks accusatorily.

"Since the phone calls this morning, just before."

"Mother fucker," Frank growls.

"The girls knew. Kat musta came into the conversation when they went out..." Gerard trails off with a shrug.

"Yeah, probably." Ray agrees, it makes sense.

"Brian tell him he can't cure us of codependancy," Gerard says taking a drag off his cigarette.

"Codependancy how?"

"As far as the five of us go."

Brian stares as if Gerard's lost his mind. Mikey, Ray and Frank look as horror stricken as Bob had been at the thought.

"We don't work that way, man. We've figured out how to work. Don't fuck with that." Ray says calmly.

"He can't do that, can he?" Frank asks worriedly.

"Nope." Ray decides. "All our enabling is to keep each other sane. Not stopping that."

Brian stares a moment and shakes his head.

The silence is finally broken when Bob comes around the other side of the building and Frank spies him. "BRYAR YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" Frank shouts and is off running and on Bob in about two heartbeats. "The fuck? Why the fuck didn't you say?"

"Nothin' to say."

"Christa, Jamia and Alicia?" Mikey demands sharply.

"Asked what Kat was going to say about your mom's ideas. All I said was nothin' she was done with me. Couldn't take the road."

Mikey glares a moment then wilts just a little with a reluctant nod. "Yeah. Yeah but..."

"We're supposed to take care of you too" Frank growls not letting it go. "You're supposed to fucking let us."

"You did." Bob says simply.

Mikey stares a while then nods slightly.

"Did not," Gerard snaps.

"Did too"

"Did not"

"How?" Ray interrupts because, while it's Bob and therefore the Did not/did too would eventually end, something that was rather debateable if it had been Gerard and Frank or Gerard and Mikey, because well, Gerard and Frank were them and Gerard and Mikey were brothers, still stopping before it got in full swing was a wondrous thing. And Ray really was not in the mood even for an abbreviated Did not/did too round

"I had a place to be. No one in my face over shit. My drums...you guys were all right there." Bob shrugs.

Mikey looks slightly mollified. Frank hugs him. Ray nods. Gerard wilts just a little, anger taken outta his sails when put like that.

Brian's mind clicks over to business. "You fucking idiot, if--"

"It was Kat. No matter how fucking done with me she was...she wouldn't start bullshit and she hasn't."

Brian reluctantly nods. One thing he has to hand it to these guys on is their taste in women. Even when shit hasn't worked out one way or another there's never been fires to put out or tabloid-style shit. The disasterous stuff other than board speculation, which was shit, was kept private.

*

Bob is wiped out, to the point he has no interest in going near his drums when he gets back to the apartment with Mikey, Frank and Gerard. Ray had offered to come and help but Bob turned him down, leaving Ray to go home to Christa like it was obvious he really wanted to instead.

"Our therapist thinks we're fucking nuts." Frank says.

"Definitely," Gerard agrees.

Mikey snorts, the sound somewhere between amused and disgusted.

Frank swipes up the remote for the tv from the coffee table. Bob flops in the chair, leaving the couch for the other three, Gerard sprawls, Frank does something somewhere between a sprawl and a burrow mostly on top of Gerard.

Gerard's a little baffled at the intensity but it's Frankie so that goes a long way in explaining, in all honesty, a helluva lot. Easier to just roll with it, he's too wiped out himself to try to sort it out, simply pets Frankie and lets him sprawl and burrow. Mikey folds himself up on the opposite end of the couch all sharp angles and thoughtfulness. Bob stretches his leg and gently kicks Mikey's foot getting a smile.

"We're gonna be okay," Gerard murmurs. Frankie makes a little humming noise and falls asleep.