Entry tags:

just frankie, mcr: frank iero, mcr: frank iero/matt cortez, mcr: matt cortez, my chemical romance

FIC: Just Frankie: Going In Circles 1/3--mature

title: Going In Circles
author: lisa roquin
rating: mature/adult
fandom: MCR
pairing/characters: Frank Iero, Matt Cortez (Frank/Matt), Gerard, Mikey(/Pete), Bob, Brian, Ray/Christa
series/sequel: Just Frankie
disclaimer: lies, fiction, untrue. completely and totally made up. I know no one, know nothing of thier personal lives. I make no claims of knowing much of anything.
summary: He could give seminars on mental avoidance. Don't want to think about it, Don't have to in three easy steps. It was breaking the habit of hiding even from himself that was a bitch.
warning: transgender, mild violence, passive self-injurous behavior, implied drug use/abuse in background characters (canon)
author notes: happy very belated birthday to gwionfawyr. this picks up the morning after Even Just The Road Gets Lonely

authors note 2: these are mostly early twentysomething guys in a rock band living on a bus for the most part. They tend to act like it. Not necessarily putting a whole lot of thought into things before sticking their foot in their mouth or behaving kinda stupidly. Despite a few things slipped out of characters mouths the subject matter is not taken lightly in the least.


Previous Stories:
Just Frankie || Stumbling Forward || Nothing That Can't Be Dealt With || Taste of Chaos || Even Just The Road Gets Lonely || Going In Circles




Matt awoke at the shift, Frank waking up and trying to maneuver out of the bunk. His gut tightened. Fuck what had he done? Frank was his best friend. If things were fucked up-shit.

*

Bob stopped cold staring at the shorter man he'd nearly plowed over coming out of the bathroom.

Frank.

In the muscle shirt that fit, not exactly tightly but right, he'd worn for their second set which had been a last minute fill in due to some minor food-poisoning (or possible major hangovers) in another band and his undershorts and wad of clothes under his arm. No brace.

"Is that-? You have come on your shirt." Bob said a bit dumbly.

"Yeah. I noticed. Done with the bathroom?" Frank sounded a bit strangled.

"Yeah."

Bob was glad all Frank did was slammed the bathroom door rather than give him the punch he knew he probably kind of deserved for that. It wasn't like he made a habit of looking at Frank's chest and honestly, it was hard to tell if and when Frank had his brace or binder or whatever the fuck it was off because he would have baggy, heavy shirt on of some sort when it was off. Old hoodies with the sleeves mostly hacked off in the summer now but...damn. Kinda really jarring, especially without caffeine yet because it was Frank.

"Oh Jesus, really classy there, Cortez, you still have your fucking shoes on." came from further up the bus.

"Fuck you, Toro."

Well, that kinda answered whose come. Though that really wasn't a surprise. This was going to be a long day.

"Oh shit." Matt groaned sitting up, shirtless in the jeans, unfastened, and shoes he'd been wearing the night before.

Bob thought he'd seen and put up with just about everything with the Used. Apparently he hadn't. Because shoes? That was Ray's big problem with all this? Shoes?

"Frank-" Matt asked.

"Met him coming out of the bathroom."

Ray's eyes narrowed. "Did you say anything stupid?"

"Yeah, I pointed out he had come on his shirt."

"Is there coffee and who had come on his shirt and why the fuck are we-" Brian muttered coming up. "This is news?" Brian frowned at Matt.

Ray and Gerard gaped at Brian.

"What the fuck ever. I need coffee." Brian muttered.


*

"Do I even wanna know what I missed this morning?" Frank muttered as Matt leaned over his shoulder trying to figure out what the hell was up with his guitar. Any thought of awkward put on hold with the disaster of a fucking day this had been.

"Probably not. Ray was horrified I left my shoes on. Brian thought we have-- since Japan maybe and Bob is planning on hiding until he's sure you won't kill him." Matt murmured in Frank's ear. "Fucking fuck."

"Goddamn motherfuck" Frank agreed with a snarl because something was seriously screwed with his guitar or the amp and fucked if he could tell which. And Neither could Matt and fucking nothing was working. "Ray-" Frank shook his head.

Matt laughed in agreement at Ray's upset being baffling, the sound cut off abruptly by "FUCK." Still goddamned nothing.

"Try the back up amp?" Which was ancient and shitty way beyond being a cheap-ass piece of crap when it had been new, and really should have been left in a ditch along the road somewhere but if they had just enough room, Ray insisted on dragging it. Just in case.

"Yeah, and pray," Matt muttered.

"Yes!" Frank hissed as the switch of amps made the difference.

"Yeah great." Matt muttered. No matter which way they looked at it, still a major fucking piece of equipment down.

"We can work around an amp. My guitar is harder." They had a spare amp. Frank's other guitar was about seventeen hundred miles away at the moment.

Matt nodded.

Frank narrowed his eyes at Matt. "Which one?" Frank growled. He knew the guys, way too freaking well. They hadn't come at him, which meant they'd probably ganged up on Matt.

"Gerard. He was worried about me getting jealous over the act...." Matt choked shaking his head.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Frank gaped.

"Told him it was fucking hot." Matt told Frank with a wicked grin.

Frank choked. "I should beat you too. Jesus."

"I've got our keys. Brian already got the rooms."

"Our?"

"Mmm." Matt snorted. "We're rooming. Ray and Mikey, Bob and Gee."

"Two nights right?"

"Yep. Not playing tomorrow or the day after. Can even hit the laundromat."

"Cool. Assholes."

"You love ‘em."

"Gonna beat ‘em one of these days."

"Yeah, I know."

"Ray was fucked off over your shoes" Frank repeated baffled, the problem with his guitar settled so he could bother with whatever else. "The fuck?" What the fuck difference did shoes make?"

"I guess it's bad etiquette to leave your shoes on in someone else's bunk?" Matt snorted.

Frank rolled his eyes. Some days he swore he was in a band with a bunch of fucking girls. Shoes? He wasn't even going to try to make sense of why Ray was fucked off about shoes. On his list of shit to worry about, be terrified or fucked up about- shoes were no where near the same fucking reality. Good god. Shoes.

*

"Here." Bob handed Frank a bottle of water and his pack of cigarettes.

"Thanks." Frank said giving Bob a wary look. He lit himself a cigarette and handed the pack to Bob opening the water. "How long we got?"

"Bout fifteen. Brian and Gee went to haul Mikey's ass back over here. Ray went to make sure they didn't lose Gee in the process of finding Mikey, I think."

Frank snorted. "Uh huh. You wanted a chance to say something when I wasn't likely to take your head off." Finding Mikey wasn't that hard, and Mikey had sworn to be there with ten to spare once they'd gone over their equipment. Mikey was good as gold about that and showing up on time, at least for their sets, so it wasn't like search parties were necessary. It wasn't like it had been the last months with Pelissier. Just Mikey'd been sucked into Pete Wentz' orbit when he wasn't needed otherwise for now. Mikey was having fun and giggling and being a bit of a goobering idiot, but what the hell? The last year or so had been a bitch and if Mikey was having some fun, who cared? Mikey was fucking smiling and looking a little less haunted on occassion. He was where he was supposed to be when they needed him. Whole different situation even if the shuffling up just before they were due on stage seemed reminicent, it wasn't. They knew where Mikey was. He was there for sound check and triple checking, and made sure someone knew where he was. Wasn't the same as all as it had been with Pelissier, or even a few of the worrisome late shows of Gerard's and frantic searching for Gerard and Bert during Taste of Chaos. All of them wondering if Gerard had slipped up and gotten smashed with Bert or if they'd gone at each other and killed each other. So Mikey was having a bit of fun. Not that big of deal.

"There's a reason I don't speak before my second cup of coffee."

Frank choked. "I fuckin' noticed. Understatement, Bryar."

"How bad do I need to apologize or grovel or whatever?"

Frank looked up at Bob assessingly. "You don't," He said quietly.

"Still feel like shit. Think I probably woulda decked anyone that said anything that stupid to me." Or stared, though Bob wasn't quite brave enough to mention the staring and have Frank try to kill him when they were going on stage in just a few.

Frank snorted. "You don't have how thin the ice gets in the back of your head constantly."

Bob stared down at Frank. He opened his mouth...closed it and stared a moment more. "There is no ice, Iero." Bob said quietly. "No fucking intelligence before caffeine, but no. fucking. ice."

Frank stared back.

"Solid fucking ground, dumbass. Do you need your ass kicked for just being stupid or them for not making it clear?"

Frank shook his head. "Not them.." he murmured.

"There they come." Bob looked at Frank consideringly a minute. "There ice with-"

Frank shook his head. "None that doesn't involve fucking up shit with one of my best friends over not much of anything."

Bob tilted his head. "Huh? Dude, Cortez would walk over hot coals for you."

"Would for him." Frank nodded. "That's kinda the problem." Because the people he could count on, the people who kept him sane and knew shit about him...yeah it was a pretty small goddamned circle. More than plenty had, more than he'd ever dreamt he could have in the band and Matt and even Brian and Worm outside his mom and Jamia. And any chance of fucking it up made him want to just curl up and die. Especially if it was because of something stupid, because of what he did.

Bob frowned slightly. "Yeah, I guess I can see that. That'd suck."

"Welcome to my life. C'mon. Time to play."

*

Fuck the shower felt good. The hot water sluiced over his back. Easing the headache that seemed to start between his shoulder blades and crawl right up to his eyeballs.

The thought of the package Brian had brought with him from Jamia was daunting but...yeah. Better than any thing he had for a few pairs of jeans that required something for appearances sake.

He tugged on the sweatshirt, a heavy older one of Gerard's with the sleeves hacked away at and pulled on his sweats heading out into the room. Sleep in a real bed and hopefully getting rid of the damn headache and he'd be able to deal with that in the morning. It'd been a fuck of a long enough day.

"What the fuck?" Frank frowned. "Who shot your puppy, Cortez? Take that back who made a bonfire outta your porn?" Matt looked like shit, hunched on the edge of the bed and slightly ashen, one hand curled between his legs and the other arm pressed against his stomach.

Matt choked and laughed weakly. He shook his head.

"Don't fuck with me. My day started with Bob informing me I had come on my shirt."

"Yeah well mine started with Ray being scandalized by my fucking shoes. With a side of Gerard worried I was going to get stupid about the fucking stage show..."

"And..."

"And. Mikey."

"Mikey?"

"Mikey."

"What the fuck did Mikey do?"

"Went off on me..."

"For?"

"The chick from the catering crew? Hot little redhead? Nose ring and a rose on her neck?"

"Manda? Amanda? Miranda? Anda? Something like that," Frank frowned. The tatt he remembered, and her jeans with the rip on the back of her thigh right under her ass. "The one you hooked up with a week or so back?"

"Yeah her. Think it's..Randa. Whatever. She caught up with me and was wondering about hooking up tomorrow sometime maybe."

"Mikey..." Frank frowned weakly.

"Kinda got pissed about me maybe cheating on my boyfriend...."

Frank stared at Matt queasy.

"Then got even more pissed about me fucking using you when I tried to say it wasn't like that and fuck, kicked me so fuckin' hard I puked."

"I'm. Going. To. Kill. Him." Frank growled he moved and sat heavily next to Matt. "You okay?" He'd wrestled around and danced with Mikey more than enough to know how damn strong those toothpicks Mikey called legs really were, and the fact he was wearing his fuck-me boots earlier...he glanced down at Matt's crotch with a wince. "Fuck..."

"Yeah.." Matt snorted. "Can safely say that whatever her name is isn't going to happen...she's under the impression that I'm dating one of Mikey's bestest friends who is practically as much family as Gee, caught himself and stuck ‘sister' in there so-not that fuck, you know he doesn't think--"

"Yeah yeah. That is- that's not about me, that's you. And yeah public." Frank agreed. "It's that he fucking-"

Matt nodded.

"You-want an ice pack or something?" Frank frowned because Matt did look like shit.

"Probably not a bad idea,"

Frank hurried out with the little bucket that was sitting on top of the tv and headed for the ice machine down the hall. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He really was going to kill Mikey because if this was what made things fucked up with Matt...damn it.

Frank snorted softly at Matt's blush as he helped him out of his clothes and settled him on the bed. "Be a nice cold wet spot later.."

"Can sleep over by me." Frank shook his head. "I don't fucking believe them...think we need to put them on testosterone insteada me. Fuck."

Matt raised his eyebrow, "You thinkin'?"

"Been...been since...Europe." Frank said softly. Fuck the day Matt found out and Ray's babbling, stuck on the edge of his awareness since Ray had asked if and.. "Just that requires...shrinks and doctors and shit...I..fuck I don't know."

Matt nodded.

"Wasn't-nothing. I mean fuck...you...are right there with Jamia." Frank swallowed.

"Jamia?" Matt murmured.

"Yeah. I-"

"Yeah I-I get what you mean and yeah. You're..the same for me."

"They're going to be the ones making this awkward and fucked up and.." Frank sighed and flopped back next to Matt hissing through his teeth at the sudden sharp jab low on his side. He absently rubbed the ache. Great. That was just going to make the week fucking perfect.

"And add those to tomorrow nights shopping list." Matt snorted.

Frank's eyes widened. "You-"

"Pay attention. I ain't that fuckin' stupid."

"Never thought you were just-"

"Pay attention." Matt murmured.

"I'm...going to kill them." Frank murmured.

"No you're not."

"I want to at the moment."

"Me too. At least Mikey," Matt agreed.

*

Bob stared at them. He really wished Brian hadn't already disappeared to where the hell ever with his phone and his laptop.

"Iero's going to fucking kill you." Bob shook his head.

Gerard looked a little green, as if he was pretty sure his little brother was going to be murdered slowly. At the very least that they were going to need a temporary bass player, probably Matt in all honesty, because Matt was there and knew their songs and could play bass.

"Just pissed me off so fucking bad." Mikey snarled.

Bob shook his head.

"It's Frank's business..." Ray said firmly, despite his own shock and blurting that morning it was. Bob's remark earlier of Frank and Matt being grown men and the two of them could fucking figure it out on their own just fine had rung true.

"Cortez would walk on hot coals for Frank. They'll do what they're going to do." Bob declared. "And I want no part of it."

That got three violent glares turned in his direction. Bob sighed and sat down on the bed. He kinda wished he could have kept his damned mouth shut. "Their business. Other than where yeah, expect stupid comments if I'm not awake and Frank has come all over his fucking shirt. Frank and I settled that. But guys..."

Gerard nodded. "Matt wouldn't hurt Frank, and Frank wouldn't hurt Matt- not on purpose."

Mikey couldn't argue with that.

Gerard started giggling. "I can't believe you said that Bob.."

Bob stared at Gerard.

"Well at least Frank didn't punch him." Mikey snorted.

"He didn't yank up Frank's shirt!" Gerard retorted.

Ray started laughing as well. "Brian thought it was spiders."

"Grocery lists."

Bob stared.

"Lucky shit. I mean really. How did Brian tell you?" Ray managed. "I mean-oh god."

"Offered me the job, then started telling me all the reasons I should think twice. Including he thought Cortez and Iero were fucking and he was going to kill them both if Iero got pregnant.That made no fucking sense and I thought Bri was losing his damned mind" Bob shook his head. "Grocery lists?" he had to ask. Because after this much time he still hadn't figured out what the hell grocery lists had to do with porn. He'd figured out quite a few of their quirks and even was catching a good chunk of comic references these days but...

Gerard winced. "One of these days he's going to kill you, Mikey."

Mikey looked down at his shoes.

Ray threw his arm around Mikey's shoulders and pulled the younger Way brother to his side tightly. "Frank knows you don't mean any harm."

Bob thought that Gerard had a point once he heard the how the others had found out.


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