InsaneJournal

FIC: Even just the road gets lonely--adult, mcr, just frankie verse


title Even Just The Road Gets Lonely
author:lisa roquin
fandom: Bandom-MCR
rating Adult
pairing/characters: Frank Iero/Matt Cortez
series/sequel: Just Frankie Verse
disclaimer: lies, fiction, untrue. completely and totally made up.
summary: sometimes things just happen.
warning: slash, transgender, language
author notes: AU obviously.
word count: 4700




Frank flopped into his bunk exhausted--heatsick and aching from pulling his leg sliding on water on the stage yesterday. His grandma wasn’t so hot, her blood pressure meds weren’t working anymore and she’d been having a lot of trouble with dizzy spells and her feet swelling and had fallen herself a week before. Thankfully she just had a bad bruise, nothing like a broken hip or something but still...that’s how they figured out her meds needed to be changed...

Gerard had promised to hang out with one of the techs from...fuck Frankie didn’t know. Maybe one of Fall Out Boy’s techs even. One of them that was a regular at the tour AA meeting anyway. Mikey...was somewhere in the vicinity of Pete Wentz being a sweet little dude or some goddamn thing. It was kinda cute, and kinda really fucking ridiculous. Ray and Bob, fuck knew...partying? Jamming somewhere in the traveling circus. Buses weren’t due to pull out until eight? It was only one. The last of the sets played for the night, the stages broken down and being loaded. Plenty of time for partying, jamming and having a few beers, and sleeping it off on the ride to the next venue..wherever the fuck that was.


~

“Hey,”

“Mmph,” Frank muttered opening his eyes, stirred out of the exhausted achy haze he’d been drifting in.

“You’re not getting sick again, are you?” Matt frowned.

“Just...beat.” Frank shrugged, he shifted and hissed at the pull. His muscles locked up and now decided the dull aching throb should be shooting pain. Fuck.

“Yeah, about doin the fucking splits and landing on your ass when you didn’t mean to does that, without two shows today, ya fuckin’ lunatic,” Matt snorted. “C’mon, strip, if you don’t get that worked out you’re not walking tomorrow.”

“You want my pants off, Cortez, you’re taking ‘em off yourself.” Frank muttered. Too tired, aching too much to really give a damn how the words came out. So far...so far things were working, Frank refused to have the brace off when the bus was parked, riding was one thing, but chance of someone walking on–no. Ray had frowned but hadn’t argued. Their bus being dry, for Gerard’s sake, meant it wasn’t one of the hangouts, wasn’t ever much going on or too many around with the great big traveling party this tour seemed to be. Mikey’s friendship with Pete headed off any lingering doubts Ray might have had or any protests he might have made otherwise. Pete was a cool enough guy and for all he was really kinda an attention whore he wasn’t a rumor monger but Frank wasn’t going to risk raising the who-knew stakes, raise the risks of..everything blowing up. Of...of...fuck it all he just wanted to play.

“Undo your brace. Mikey already said he’s riding tomorrow with Pete. Ray and Bob wouldn’t dream of bringing anyone back and Gee’d do his ridiculous check.”

“Ngh,” Frank muttered.

“C’mon, you passed out with it on yesterday,” Matt glared.

Frank groaned as every muscle seemed to protest that much..

“Can–I will, would but–“

Frank dropped his arms. “Yeah...yeah. I–“

“Littlefuckersareabitch,” Matt muttered at the hooks on the brace undoing them one by one with clumsy fingers.

Frank closed his eyes and cursed himself but he was just fucking beat and he hurt and Matt. Fuck if Matt..

Frank hissed as the brace was slid off. Carefully, with Matt managing to only touch his back and rib for half a second.

“Wore it too long, didn’t you?”

Frank made a noncommittal noise and swallowed hard, fighting the urge to slip his hands up under his shirt and ease away the ache. He had worn the brace too long. He hated thinking about the damned thing, paying any attention to...well, just didn’t pay attention to things he didn’t have to. His band mates not so much when they were worried about him. Christ that had been the band meeting to end all band meetings when they’d sat down and warily hashed out touring. Though the most comical had to be everyone staring at Mikey when Gerard announced to Bob he was bi. Mikey’s wide eyed, “No really, Gerard does girls too” had gotten him punched in the shoulder by his brother. And a bit later Gerard’s jaw on the floor when Bob reluctantly pointed out yeah, he was a little shocked, but it was kinda the girls too part, especially after Bert. Ray had gone off all OCD on his rules to the point they decided the back lounge was Ray’s for a little traveling studio. Because he was going to have a nervous breakdown if he didn’t have some outlet. Gerard was on an addiction kick, and supposedly they were cutting down smoking (not) and Matt’s porn was limited (on the front lounge tv anyway, laptop in the bunks was something else entirely. There was actually a tv schedule that included porn, sci-fi and zombies) Frank’s brace had come in somewhere down the list well under the no booze on the bus, and no sex on the bus for either Way–unless they were both having sex on the bus and were sufficiently distracted to not accidentally catch an unwanted earful or eyeful. That led to the sidetrack of Ray declaring no threesomes or orgies on the bus. Not that that wasn’t already kind of unspoken after Otter in...was it France? Germany? Yeah that had been...yeah. Frank really thought he kind of liked the old system of ignoring as much as possible and just forgetting it. Threesome/Orgy-on-bus banning had been followed by did Alien or Zombies having sex count as sci-fi, horror or porn question from Mikey, but actually honest enough with some of that anime crap. Bob had to think he landed with the nerdiest deviants on the planet...he just might have.

“You are rubbing your own chest, Iero. I’ll get your back and your legs.” Matt said with a swallow. He’d seen the automatic weak twitch of Frank’s hands upwards. Reflexive habit, unthinking followed by the fleeting look of..something and swallow. Matt moved toward the foot of the bunk and pulled Frank’s shoes off, setting them in the little cubby underneath. “Pants off, Iero,” Matt glanced back up and Frank’s hand was under the front of his shirt.

Frank’s face flamed. But fuck, the brace was already starting to get worn with the workout that it got on stage and a spot had rubbed and dug in the way the brace and curled a bit on the edge.

Matt swallowed and forced himself to roll his eyes and reach for Frank’s belt buckle. There was just a moment of ‘oh fuck’ when Frank’s shorts tried following his jeans down and off but that disaster was avoided.

“C’mon, roll over, man, back first. I’ve got some lotion in my bunk.”

“Course you do.” Frank managed to tease.

“Uh huh. Yeah right. And you never–“

“Not– not much.”

“Why the hell not?” Matt caught himself staring and quickly went for the lotion from his bunk just above Frank’s.

Frank choked between horrified and amused. “Jesus, Matt...” Only Matt. Only Matt would so sincerely say something like that.

Fuck, what a way to put his foot in his damned mouth but, if there was one thing that he’d learned, especially when it came to Frank, that bulldozing forward was probably best. And hell he–didn’t have a therapist or anything, he had them, and tended to go nuclear if they shied away from something once it was accidentally said. “Well, I mean hell don’t you get horny?”

“Duh,” Frank muttered. That was the stupidest fucking question on the goddamn planet, and Frank put great effort in conveying just how fucking stupid it was in his voice.

“So why not? I’m sure you can identify all of us by sound, even just heavy breathing...” You got too damn tired, a little drunk, a little high, thought you were alone or everyone was asleep, sometimes you weren’t as quiet as you could be, it happened. Not often, and they all pretty much ignored it but it happened. He could pretty much identify the others...except Frank now that he thought about it.

Frank snorted. That was a given. Bob immediately recognizable because he was the one Frank didn’t immediately recognize the muffled bit of sound.

“So, why not?” Matt repeated settling himself at the foot of Frank’s bunk as comfortable as he could get and started with one foot.

“Just more fucking frustrating when you can’t..” Frank groaned and buried his face in his pillow.

“Can’t–“ Matt winced, glad Frank wasn’t looking at him. “Cause oh hell, Frank, cause well..”

Frank groaned. “No. Maybe..I..just can’t ...relax to..”

“You did when– you did right?” Matt frowned. “When we got back from Japan...that you–“

Frank groaned again. “Yes. I was fucking drunk and...”

“So was I.” Christ he’d been drunk, and jet-lagged and just ready to drop and while he basically didn’t have a shred of embarrassment for himself, he did pay attention to limits and well, hell it was Frank. Frank had enough of his own shit without them screwing up and making it worse or weird or doing something stupid.

Frank near-moaned as Matt’s thumbs dug into the back of his calf.

“Too hard?”

“Good.”

“Okay,” Matt said softly and concentrated on unknotting Frank’s muscles. Then moved on to Frank’s other foot and calf. “You gotta know–none of us would think anything of it anymore than anybody else.”

“And hell, Mikey’s favorite porn is the shots of the girls fingering themselves and..” I’m not, and it kinda makes me sick if any of you ever had that image...

“You’re Frank,” Matt said quietly. Frank was Frank, and so there’d been panicking emergency runs for things that guys generally did not need by Matt or Worm or Brian, Frank was Frank. Even sitting through hours of Frances pictures with Frank’s grandma and seeing Frank in stolen shirts a size too small of Jamia’s without the brace, Matt just couldn’t see Frank as anything but Frank. The rest of the guys, Brian and Worm were the same way because they knew Frank before there was a clue of Frances ever existing. Okay yeah, moments of surreal and awkward not knowing what the fuck to say or worried about setting Frank off, it was still Frank. “We might pick at you taking breaks from the brace but that’s cause we’re worried about you...your ribs or your breathing when you start getting all wheezy and sick. Your health, dumbass.”

Frank swallowed back a noise as Matt’s hands reached his thigh, hitting the worst knot.

“You guys are worse than a bunch of girls,” Frank managed and his voice wasn’t too moany–he hoped.

Matt snorted, his hands working over the strained knotted muscle of Frank’s thigh. Conversation slipped away as Frank lapsed into soft muffled groans and sighs, little moaning-whimpers and occasional sharp intakes of breath.

Frank buried his face in his pillow. Fuck that felt good. He tensed as strong calloused fingers pressed into his inner thigh in conjunction to matching fingers on the outside of his thigh and thumbs dug into the worst part of the knot on the back of his leg. The whine he let out was as much horrified as anything else because goddamn. The warm-pleasant from Matt’s hands working away the aches and knots that had been kind of everywhere, despite the horror of being so exposed in just his shorts and t-shirt, started to shift and heat, concentrating low in his belly.

“Frankie?”

“Feels good.” Frank managed to keep the whine out of his voice and pressed his face further in the pillow because goddamn it felt too good, and not just like it was meant which was a fucking nightmare because it was Matt and goddamn...feels good and yeah, my inner thighs–kinda really sensitive in the insta-horny way and your hands feel good and been for fucking ever since...and... Yeah. Yeah that would just be so fucking wonderful to say. To let on. To fuck up a friendship and fuck up the band and fuck up everyone.

Frank whimpered when Matt’s hands moved from one thigh to the other. Matt swallowed hard. Because he just did not think Frank sounded sexy. He didn’t.

“Where the fuck is everyone?”

“Hey, Brian.”

“Brian,” Frank muttered from his pillow. Oh. Jesus fuck

“Mikey’s on Fall Out Boy’s bus. Riding with them tomorrow. Gee’s with some little baby tech for Avenged Sevenfold and the one merch girl. Kid was having a shit week so they’re hanging out. Bob was with a bunch of sound guys and I think Ray’s under Fall Out Boy’s bus with Trohman and Hurley.”

“Under?” Frank snorted from the pillow with a whine that was entirely to do with Matt’s attention to the bruised-feeling if not bruised-looking knot of muscle. “Hiding from the sweet little dudes with Trohman’s weed?”

“Pretty much.” Matt agreed.

Frank hissed as Matt hit another knot. “Fuuuck” he whined.

“What the hell did you do?”

“Slipped.” Frank grumbled, not looking up from the pillow.

“Bout tore your hamstring and your back yesterday. Asshole threw a water bottle on the stage, Frank skidded out on it, bout did the splits and landed on his ass, pissed him off enough to be even more of a lunatic monkey on crack for the rest of the set and today.”

Brian shook his head. “I’m gonna crash in back...”

“Yeah, you look like shit.” Matt agreed.

Brian flipped him off and headed for the back lounge. Toro could fucking deal with him flopping on the sofa back there. It’s not like Brian would touch any of Toro’s shit. Anything that kept this bunch of lunatics functioning and sane was fine with Brian, he wasn’t going to fuck with what was working.

Frank swallowed back a moaning whimper as Matt’s hands moved up, easing the knot and Jesus, fingers so high almost to his crotch thumbs pressing against the crease of his thigh, his ass.

“Hurting?”

“Matt, you’re a fucking idiot. No.” Frank growled before he thought better of it. Or thought at all. Because...did he just. God.

“Fuck sorry I–“ Matt’s hands stilled a second. No. Not going to make it more awkward. He knew Frank well enough to know ... shit.

“I know,” Frank managed as Matt’s hand moved upwards onto the small of Frankie’s back.

Matt paused to add more lotion to his hand and shift straddling the back of Frank’s thigh’s hunched in the confines of the bunk, he worked on the knots on Frankie’s back. Doing his best not to think that Frank’s sounds were, yeah kinda hot and his skin felt nice.

Frank moaned softly into his pillow as the lethargy of a fucking awesome back rub took some of the edge of the heat coiled low and annoyingly in his belly. That annoying frustrating coil sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere though. Not with Matt’s weight settled on his thighs, rough calloused hands under the back of his shirt, massaging the worst of the aches of his muscles away. Not when Frank could feel Matt’s breath just barely on the back of his neck, the way Matt was hunched in the bunk over him...and when it almost sounded like Matt was a little turned on too, at least by his breathing. Matt’s bunk was directly above Frank’s. Matt had stayed with him while Gerard cleaned up, and the couple weeks they had between Taste of Chaos and Warped. Matt was Matt and loved his fucking porn, knowing what that particular walking hormone he lived on a bus with sounded like when he was turned on, even by just his breathing was kinda hard not too. And the bus was silent. Brian had shut the door to the back lounge and possibly just flat out passed out, or was working on getting there with headphones on.

“Turn over, Frank, front of your legs...”

“Matt.” Frank said a wary note almost pleading in his voice. Low heated coil notching up a little more at the thought of Matt’s hands. “Just–“

“Frank.”

“Goddamn it, Cortez–“ Frank whispered brokenly. It had been too fucking long since he’d been able to come on his own, let alone have anyone else touch him. And...”Matt, miserable enough already please–“

“Miserable?” Matt frowned. Blue balls fucking hurt. “Like, ya know, painful?”

“Do you know how fucking much I hate being the one to ask about girls. Especially the what do girls think or shit...I don’t know half that shit.” And he didn’t and how the fuck was he supposed to know if the merch chick was into whoever or whatever. Gerard usually had a better clue than Frank did most of the time. The only reason that Frank didn’t lose his mind over that was that Gerard was asked too. Hell, just as often Gerard was asked first, a matter of who was ran into first.

“You have Jamia. Can you see Ray asking his sister or something?”

Frank choked. God...giggles erupted at the thought because Ray would probably fucking die.

“Blue balls hurt like a fucking bitch in my opinion but it’s not like I know about anybody else..” Matt said quietly. And fuck, it wasn’t like the girls he hooked up with from time to time were interested in anything but the same thing he was, getting off just then and nice knowing ya. The few and far between girls he’d actually dated were, well, “Wanna try...?” and “Go away, I have cramps” were about as far as any sort of conversation near –well anything like this went. He hadn’t meant to even let the words out. Hadn’t meant to ask but he had...and it wasn’t....

“Not painful. Just...” Frank buried his face in the pillow. Matt’s words..this was Matt, he knew Matt hadn’t meant to...”Tense, uncomfortable, all twisted up in a knot and so fucking close and you want to and can’t and just frustrating,” Frank managed in a ragged tumble.

“Think I’d probably take the head off of the first one I heard jackin’ off or goin on about how good the hookup the night before was.” The latter was more likely to be the crew, or guys from other bands, or completely likely to be. Almost. Though occasional references to long past and less than fondly remembered lovers had been made by the rest of the guys.

“Tempting some days,” Frank snorted, shaking laughter and nerves tangling up into something not quite either or maybe both.

“Frank–you’re going to be paying for it if you don’t get the muscles unknotted, c’mon turn over.” Matt swallowed and shifted off Frank so he could turn.

Frank looked up at Matt settling on his back, face hot and eyes wide. Shouldn’t it be fucking easier? This was Matt. Matt. Matt with his goddamn porn obsession and put up with Frank’s grandmother and Frances’ fucking pictures and passed out next to Frank after splitting a bottle of Tequila and watching zombie movies shoulder to shoulder with Frank til three while he shook apart and wordlessly had a minor nervous breakdown next to Matt. Matt had seen all the remnants of Frances’ existence, was the one that generally got sent to get necessities when Frank couldn’t himself and it wasn’t like he could send a runner for those without questions and Matt didn’t see Frank as less than Frank.

Frank swallowed. God please...please...don’t take this as as...don’t look at me different. Fear coiled cold and churning in his gut nauseating counterpoint to the coiled heat lower.

Matt’s heart pounded loudly in his ears and his hands trembled just a little as he resettled over Frank’s shins and started working one knotted quadriceps because –oh hell Frank was looking scared and messed up and oh fuck that was the sexiest sound Matt had ever heard another guy make. Please don’t hate me, don’t want to fuck this up, fuck you up.

Frank’s eyes traveled downward for a second. Yeah. Fuck. Matt was...and he was a little horrified at how much that wratcheted up the heat-frustration. The whimper as calloused fingers slid light-soft over his leg to move to the other had Frank gritting his teeth and...

“You don’t I don’t..” Matt managed to get the words out. “Legs–“

“Sensitive as fuck, yeah.” Frank swallowed.

“Well, like I woulda known. My neck. Fuck..that’s..just drives me nuts.” Matt offered. Fair trade. Oh fuck that sounded fucked up in his own head. But it was Frank, and hell he didn’t know. Just that he had enough of Frank’s secrets, they all did, that Frank had to depend on them to keep that...that somehow the little things had to be even. Maybe. Fuck he didn’t know.

“Matt–“ Frank swallowed. He was going to fucking regret this he just knew he was but...he, he trusted Matt and god he...he... made a strangled sound as calloused fingertips slid lightly over the skin of his inner thigh. Fuck that felt good, even if...even if he just ended up frustrated enough to scream it–worth it, worth it just to have someone touch him. Oh god, just as long as it didn’t-- that-- that Matt didn’t think different of him or ...fuck he didn’t know what. He trusted Matt. And that was what fucking terrified him that he’d...this would fuck up everything...and..

“When was the last–“

“More’n a year–“

“What about that you.... weren’t frustrated?” Matt asked hesitantly.

“Night we got back from Japan..”

Matt was kinda horrified because he’d probably explode or go insane because that was fucking months ago. His heart felt like it was going to slam right out of his ribs as he leaned down. “Don’t kill me,” he whispered shakily and brushed his lips across Frank’s

“Don’t...don’t look..” at me different, don’t see...I’m not..I’m... Frank trembled and slid his arms around Matt, one slid around his back, the other around his neck, his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of Matt’s neck.

Matt slowly shifted, one leg settled between Frank’s thighs as he followed Frank’s nudging.

Frank groaned softly as Matt’s weight settled over him. A shift to pull the bunk curtain shut had Matt’s hip pressed hard against Frank’s pelvis and that felt good. He rocked up just a little, because...damn it...felt good. Felt good to have Matt’s weight against him, the pressure, little bit of friction from the movement of his hips. Not quite not quite the right spot cramped and tangled as they were in the bunk but good

“Not gonna look, Frank,” Matt murmured. “Like–like this..” clumsy bumbling and an elbow nearly in Frank’s eye. Matt shifted pressing down against Frank as he tugged his shirt off. “Just this, just like this.” Matt whispered pressing another kiss to Frank’s lips.

This. Yeah. This Frank could do. Even if that heat stayed there simmering and coiled up and fucking frustrating as hell, this Frank could do. He was fucking human and this was Matt. He trusted Matt, and hell there weren’t any surprises for Matt to stumble across and...Matt who didn’t flee to the back of the bus when Gerard semi-defiantly put on gay porn. Ray did, comically. Of course, Ray fled from any porn that got played in the front lounge that wasn’t fairly well vanilla-het or bad-wannabe-lesbian-porn-masquerading-as-het because of the guy sitting there watching the girls on screen, or actual lesbian porn. Bob kinda tilted his head and said huh to any and all of it and went back to his video game or magazine, or latest ‘reading assignment’ from Gerard of classic comic story arcs. Worm shook his head and called them equal-oppurtunity perverts and generally joined Ray in the back when he’d had enough. Brian tended to not notice unless he was on the phone that almost needed surgically removed from his ear and then only to demand “turn that shit down” no matter what was on the screen. Matt would sit and watch it though. Maybe...maybe...god please...he could handle being ‘safe’ for curious about making out with a guy but not not if Matt thought ...looked at...

Frank shifted just a little more. The rub of Matt’s jeans against his bare thigh...yeah, that felt good, the pressure of Matt against him though not right not quite the right way or spot felt so good and god...Frank shifted his leg a little shivering at the feel of denim against skin. And yeah, almost fucking embarrassing how sensitive the skin of his inner thighs was. A fact Jamia knew and had exploited shamelessly in the past, but yeah no one else that was more than a random hook up, and that had pretty well stopped after high school because there’d been Pencey and too many questions and too much risk for fucking destroying so much and...

“Relax, Frank, just this...not...just this.” Matt whispered.

“Yeah, yeah,” Frank agreed and nudged Matt’s head down for another kiss shifted enough, raised his leg, wrapped it around Matt’s and there, Matt was pressed against him just–just right. Another little shift as Matt adjusted his weight, leaning on one elbow, the other hand moved cautiously to Frank’s hip, slid lightly there and a little ways down his leg. Pressed down just a bit rocking against Frank. Good. God. Good. “Yeah,” Frank breathed. Matt leaned his head down. Kiss slow, hesitant at first, deepening, wet, hungry...

The whine in the back of Frank’s throat shot straight through Matt. “Fuck, Frankie..” Matt gasped as he struggled for air, Frank’s mouth moved to his neck. He shuddered and ground down against Frank’s leg. Fuck. Frank writhed angling upwards against Matt with a sharp press and another whine. “Frank,” Matt grated.

“Close,” Frank breathed against Matt’s neck. Wriggle-grind pressure-rub just just...fuck just right. Just just right

Matt groaned and trailed wet sloppy kisses against Frank’s jaw as Frank whined and shook and ground/writhed up against him before trembling under Matt with as much fear as exhausted aftershocks.

“Fuck..Frank..” Matt rasped hand working between Frank’s leg and himself, fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans, he groaned as a shaky roughened hand moved over his back, Frank’s mouth on his neck as he fisted himself, angle was shit and sweat on his palms not helping the dry-catch of jagged callouses from moving equipment and fuck it only took a moment, Frank trembling and sated (and fuck, goddamn scared) beneath him kissing his neck and goddamn.

Matt looked down at Frank, oh god don’t let this be a mistake, don’t...he leaned in and kissed Frank softly. “Don’t tell me I’m gonna fuckin’ lose my best friend over this, Frank.” Matt said almost scared.

“Name two guys you’ve ever jerked off thinking about, fuck even one–“ Frank demanded.

“Gerard.” Matt said without hesitation his face heating a little. “Steve Bell in ninth grade.”

“I–“

“You’re Frank, dumbass.”

Frank took a deep shuddering breath, holding onto Matt for a moment.

“Shift your ass a bit, Iero, I’m beat, my bunk's too far.”

Frank snorted. “Yeah, right up there, Cortez,” but he let Matt shift them into something resembling comfortable. “Fuck, I’m gross.”

“Mmm,” Matt agreed. “Me too. This...this okay?”

“Yeah.” Frank swallowed. It was okay. Yeah. “Fuckin’ beat, shut up and go to sleep if you’re stayin,” he managed. His answer was a bit of shift and Matt’s arms settling a little more soundly around him. He was beat, and aching and that–this was good. Somehow, wasn’t going to lose Matt for a friend. “Getsfuckinlonely,” Frank mumbled into Matt’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Matt agreed, his voice barely a breath of sound. “Even just the road does.”