Archive of Our Own

“Our heirs, whatever or whoever they may be, will explore space and time to degrees we cannot currently fathom. They will create new melodies in the music of time. There are infinite harmonies to be explored.”

Clifford Pickover, Time: A Traveler’s Guide

*

Something is ringing somewhere far, far away from Frank. The side of his cheek is wet when he pries his eyes open. He wipes the drool off his face before fumbling for the source of the noise in the darkness of the room, finally managing to press the green button on his phone.

He can’t make out anything at first, just a jumble of noise, and he’s riding the tail end of his cold so he thinks his ear must still be blocked, but then Gee’s voice rings, distant.

“Just give me four more of this,” Gee is saying, and Frank rasps “Four what?” before realizing Gee isn’t actually talking to him.

The shuffling noises and Gee’s muffled conversation go on for a few more seconds, and Frank thinks Gee’s phone probably called on its own from his pocket again, when Gee’s voice comes back, right into Frank’s ear: “Frank? Frankie, are you there?”

“’Course I am, asshole,” Frank mumbles. He squints, rubbing his eyes blearily, trying to make out the numbers on the bedside clock. It's barely 3pm; not even half an hour since Gee left the hotel room. “Didn’t I tell you I was going to take a nap? Where are you? What's going on?”

Gee, unsurprisingly, just keeps asking more questions. “Are you okay? Frankie, are you... are you alone?” he asks, which is kind of weird, Frank thinks.

“Who would even be here while I took a nap?” he says. He hopes Gee either starts making sense soon, or just ends the call so Frank can go back to sleep. He’s determined to make the most of their last afternoon off by sleeping the whole time. The aptly-named tour kicked his ass all through Europe, and Frank needs all the rest he can get before they start contaminating the US. Mostly with his germs.

“Okay, Frank, listen,” Gerard says, and he sounds breathless, probably walking fast as he rambles on. Frank hopes Gee remembered to pay for his coffee with more than an autograph this time. “I need you to stay calm, okay? I didn’t realize it was today, but I’m on my way back, I’ll be there soon, it’ll be alright. You just have to keep calm until I get back.”

“What? Gee, what the fuck are you talking about?” Frank asks, rubbing his hands over his face to try and make sense of it all, because Gerard is starting to freak him out a little. He doesn’t manage to stop the stream of Gerard’s words, though.

“- going to happen,” Gee is saying, “and I just need you not to -“ but Frank never hears what Gee doesn’t want him to do, because his phone is knocked out of his hands and Gerard's suddenly right there, shoving his tongue down Frank’s throat.

*

Frank’s first instinct when it comes to Gerard is always to kiss back, so for the first few seconds, he closes his eyes and enjoys it, shutting out the tinny voice still coming from his phone on the floor. He does love Gerard's taste, and the familiar weight of him on top of Frank.

Something's off, though, Frank knows; he can't tell exactly what just yet, the haze of sleep and cold meds clinging to him stubbornly.

Gerard is not helping. He’s rubbing himself all over Frank in the most distracting way, murmuring “Miss you, miss you, miss you”. It's kind of silly, because Gerard wasn’t really gone that long, and suddenly Frank’s brain gets back online and Frank realizes Gerard didn’t actually come back.

In fact, that’s still him calling Frank’s name through Frank’s phone and if Gerard’s not here, then who the fuck is Frank kissing?

Frank’s eyes jerk open and he starts scrambling backwards on the bed, putting as much distance as he can between himself and the intruder. He’s breathing hard and his heart is pounding as he gropes around for the switch. When the light comes on he blinks and stares, and stares some more, and tries to make sense of things but his brain keeps coming back with “system error” because the person in front of him? The person in front of him, wringing his hands and biting his lips and giving Frank the pleading look Frank knows so well? That person is Gerard.

Gerard, dressed all in black, with short blond hair.

*

Frank doesn’t know how long the stand-off lasts, him and Blond Gerard staring at each other from opposite ends of the bed.

It most definitely is Gerard, Frank can tell, down to every last detail - how Gerard holds himself, his clothes, his voice, his teeth, the tiny birth mark near his eye. The way he kissed. The way he tastes, for fuck's sake. That's the kind of stuff that can't be faked.

Frank is thinking that this is the most vivid dream he’s ever had, if not the weirdest, when suddenly the door bangs open behind the Blond Gerard and Gerard, Gee, his Gee, with his red hair and his leather jacket, appears in the doorway, balancing two trays of Starbucks cups and his key card.

“Everybody keep calm!” Gee shouts. “I’m here now, everything will be alright.”

Frank clearly catches Blond Gerard rolling his eyes, but he’s too relieved to care. Gee knew something was up, and he’s here now, and Frank's sure things will be alright. Pretty sure, anyway.

Frank’s about to circle around the bed to get to Gee when a voice to his left says: “Can anybody tell me what the fuck is going on?” and Frank almost jumps out of his skin because there, in the corner, behind the armchair, is… well. Gerard. Another Gerard; a very young, chubby Gerard with spiky black hair, looking about as freaked-out as Frank feels right now.

“Seconded,” Frank squeaks.

*

Frank is standing next to Young Gerard at the foot of the bed where Blond Gerard and Gee are both sitting cross-legged. They’re both doing their best to look friendly and harmless, Frank can tell; nevertheless, Young Gerard, after establishing Frank’s identity, decided to stick with him for now. Or, well. Behind him, to be exact.

(“Hey, aren’t you Frank from Pencey Prep?” Gerard had said, frowning, and taken Frank’s shocked silence as confirmation.)

Frank is trying to concentrate, working hard to keep his thoughts on the interrogation he and Young Gerard are conducting. Or trying to conduct, in any case. Young Gerard keeps starting to talk to the others and stopping again, going back to gnawing on his fingers and muttering to himself. As for Frank, well, each time the Gerards on the bed give each other a look or smile at each other, his brain stutters back to a halt.

“You’re sure this isn’t a dream,” he repeats for what feels like the tenth time.

“Yes,” both Gerards confirm. Their mouths are pursed in the exact same impatient pout – such a mindfuck - but Frank does have an excuse. Usually, two Gerards on a bed is a pretty reliable sign he’s asleep.

But if it were a dream, would they even tell him?

Young Gerard makes another attempt at forming a complete sentence. “So, you’re saying you’re…“ he stops, clearly frustrated. “You’re saying that I… that we…” he stops again, gesturing wildly. “How? Why?”

The look Gee turns on him is kinder than the one he was giving Frank a second ago.

“Time travelers, yes,” Gee says again, slowly and calmly. “We know a little about the why. Not so much about the how. But, yeah, in certain precise circumstances, it happens.”

“What circumstances?” Young Gerard asks, finally stepping out from behind Frank and shuffling towards the bed.

“As far as we know, it’s about synchronicity,” Blond Gerard says, crossing his fingers on his knee. “I locked myself in my room at the – I was in a pretty bad place, and I wished it were over already, that I could… see the light at the end of the tunnel, I guess. And here I am.”

There are deep shadows under this Gerard’s eyes, and a tenseness around his mouth whenever he looks at Frank, and Frank finally places him. The hair screams Black Parade, of course, but Gerard's talking about the Paramour.

That explains the desperation in his kiss; Frank and Gerard weren’t exactly on talking terms for a while there.

“I wished I could see my future, too,” Young Gerard whispers hoarsely, and he looks so small and lost that Frank suddenly itches to gather him into his arms. He doesn’t, though. This Gerard’s hunched-over posture is screaming “DON’T TOUCH” so loudly that Frank would get it even if he didn’t remember learning that lesson the hard way. He keeps his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

Alright, so, he might be willing to accept that he’s not asleep. If he were, things would probably have moved on to the wet dream portion of the evening already. It looks like this is going more in a group therapy direction, unfortunately for his fantasy life.

He turns towards Young Gerard. “So… Where – or, I guess, when are you from?” he asks.

Young Gerard has the same dark circles under his eyes as Blond Gerard, and the same kind of haunted look. That, plus the hair and clothes, and Frank places this Gerard around…

“2001,” Gerard replies, confirming Frank’s suspicions. “September. It just happened…” He swallows, looks away, and then adds, “I quit my job today. I just… None of it matters, and I want to… I don’t really know what to do now.”

Frank’s heart breaks a little at how miserable this Gerard looks, and he’s about to step forward and give him a hug, body language be damned, when Blond Gerard clears his throat, startling him.

Blond Gerard and Gee are silent, yet they're in the middle of a heated conversation, Frank can tell. He's been hanging around the Way brothers for long enough. This is even more frustrating, though; the dialogue seems to be happening through the slightest nods, leaving him nothing to try and interpret. He wonders if time-travel comes with a bonus telepathic bond. He hopes not. He feels at enough of a disadvantage as it is.

“Right, I know,” Gee says, and then, turning back to Frank and his youngest self, “Um, since we’ve got the basic mechanics out of the way, there’s something you two should know before you freak out again. There’s, uh, someone else here right now. Another one of us.”

“What?” Frank exclaims, scanning the room. He can't see any more Gerards. “Where? Did he mess up his landing or something? Can you even do that? He’s not stuck inside a wall or something, is he?”

Frank assumes that would be bad, but neither Gee nor Blond Gerard look too concerned, and they seem to know what's up. He waits for the explanation.

“No, no. He’s in the bathroom,” Blond Gerard says. “He’s been… sleeping, but he’s going to wake up soon.”

“Sleeping in the bathroom?” Frank asks, incredulous, just as Young Gerard snorts, “He slept through time-travel?”

Frank’s about to make a joke but Gee’s looking at him in such a serious manner, Blond Gerard rubbing his neck in the way that means he’s really embarrassed, and suddenly Frank knows who it is. There’s only one possible past incarnation of Gerard who could have slept through being jolted out of his time and landing in the next room to a rather loud, four-person argument.

As if on cue, an awful retching sound comes from the bathroom.

Blond Gerard gets up from the bed with a resigned look. “I guess it’s my turn,” he says. “I’ve got this.”

“Tell him to use-” Gee starts, and Blond Gerard cuts him off. “Your toothbrush, I know.”

“Try and see if he'll use shampoo this time,” Gee says, and Blond Gerard shoots back an annoyed “You already know he won't,” before disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door.

Frank takes a step closer to Gee.

“Gee, is this really…?” he whispers, and Gee nods.

“Tokyo ’04, yeah.”

“Shit,” Frank says.

“What?” Young Gerard asks.

*

It does make sense, Frank thinks. He concentrates on the lukewarm latte Gee put in his hands before sitting back next to Frank, and tries to ignore the sounds coming from the bathroom: more retching, some crying, a steady murmur of words Frank can’t make out.

His mind goes back to that day in Japan, when he’d looked everywhere, everywhere for Gerard, but Gerard had just been gone, and when Frank had seen him last Gerard had been drunk off his head and high as a kite, so Frank really needed to find him.

Then, impossibly, after hours unsuccessfully looking for Gerard had turned Frank’s panic–fuelled anger into stomach-wrenching dread, Gerard had finally been found under the stage. Frank had checked under the stage before then, he knew he had, and Gerard had definitely not been there; but even in the following days, when Gerard was sweating through detox after his sudden decision to get clean, he’d refused to tell Frank where the hell he’d been that afternoon.

Later, once he’d been sober a few months, he’d come after Frank, chipping away at Frank’s doubts patiently, steadily, with the kind of self-assured single-mindedness Frank had only ever seen Gerard display about the music.

Frank had often wondered, over time, how Gerard could have been so sure that Frank would eventually say yes.

Of course, “because I saw the future” hadn’t made Frank’s list of possible answers. He squeezes Gee's hand briefly and makes a note to mention it to him later.

A particularly violent bout of retching brings Frank out of his musings, and he looks up to see Young Gerard wincing, looking pointedly away as he sips his own giant coffee.

“You alright, kid?” he asks.

“First of all, fuck you,” Gerard hisses. “I graduated college, I’m not a kid.” He gives Frank a withering look. “Aren’t you, like, younger than Mikey, anyway?”

Frank hears Gee chuckle. He’s been giving Frank shit about reclaiming his ‘youthful looks’ since Frank shaved his head three months ago.

Young Gerard only pauses for a beat, then asks, frowning: “Actually, what are you doing in 2011? You time-travel, too? When did you cut your dreads?”

Frank casts Gee a desperate look, and Gee just says, “No, this is our time. We’re both from here. Now.”

“So we’re… friends?” Young Gerard says, looking between his older self and Frank, and then across the room with a dubious look. Frank knows what Gerard is seeing. Two sets of bags, and one king bed. He tries to keep his expression neutral.

“So, Frank, you still play?” Gerard says, changing the subject abruptly.

Frank starts to answer, says “Of course, I-“ but then it’s like his brain freezes, and his heart starts pounding and his hands are clammy and in the space of a second he’s seized by sheer panic.

He was just about to tell the kid about the band, but what if that’s not what he’s supposed to say right now? What if he says something he shouldn’t? What if he changes something and alters his present by disturbing the past, or fucks up Gerard’s life by telling him too much, or creates a rift in the time-space continuum that swallows the whole planet?

His mind starts fast-forwarding frantically through all the comics he’s read and all the sci-fi movies he’s watched with the guys, looking for some sort of protocol on how to handle these situations, and he knows he’s been standing there, panting and staring at Young Gerard and saying nothing for a while, but he can’t make himself talk.

“Gee?” he finally squeaks, throwing him the most pleading look he can. To his relief, Gerard gets off the bed immediately and with an apologetic word to his younger self, guides Frank towards the secluded nook at the entrance of the room.

Frank latches onto him as soon as they’re out of view, gripping Gee’s shirt and pressing his forehead against his chest, chanting “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.”

Gerard cups a warm hand on the nape of Frank’s neck and shushes him quietly. “It’s okay, Frankie, shh, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here,” and Frank finally takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with Gee’s familiar smell. Gee’s smell is actually quite different from Blond Gerard’s, he realizes now, and the thought calms him down a little.

“Fuck, sorry,” he says, uncurling his hands and smoothing the front of Gee's shirt as best he can. “I guess it finally hit me.”

“Isn’t it insane?” Gerard says, wonder and delight in his voice. “Don’t worry, man,” he continues. “I’m freaking out pretty thoroughly back there, too.”

“He doesn’t look freaked out,” Frank counters, but Gerard chuckles. “Trust me,” he says, “I’ve been there,” and that’s just it, that’s exactly Frank’s problem right now.

“I haven’t!” he exclaims, and starts pacing as much as the tiny corridor will allow him. “I don’t know what’s supposed to happen! I don’t know what to say, or do, and what if I fuck things up? What if I tell him, or, or, any of them, something they shouldn’t know and reality shifts and suddenly I’m in Jersey working at Wal-Mart?” ‘What if I lose you’, he wants to say, but doesn't, because he doesn’t even want to voice the thought.

“That’s not how it works,” Gerard explains. “You can’t mess this up.”

“How do you know?” Frank insists, because this is too important and he doesn’t understand.

“Because I’ve been here, Frank,” Gee says calmly. “I’ve lived through this three times already, and I remember all of them, and it’s always been fine. You’ve never messed things up. Trust me, Frank. There’s nothing you can do that would change things now.”

Gerard’s hunched a little so they’re really level, giving Frank his most earnest eyes, the ones Frank is can't help but believe. He runs his palm over Frank’s head, rubs his fingers at Frank’s temples. It feels really good, relieving some of the pressure in Frank’s skull.

Frank feels the coil wrapped around his chest loosen a little bit, his breath coming a little easier. Until he thinks more carefully about the implications of what Gerard just said, and then he starts getting pissed off.

“So, what you’re saying is that basically, I don’t have a choice?” he asks, indignant. “I’m, like, doomed to follow whatever already happened in your past? I hope you realize how fucked up that is, Gee!”

Gerard pinches his nose like he does when he’s getting a headache. Well, good, Frank thinks, no reason he should be the only one.

“For the record,” Gee says, “this is not what I imagined was going on back here.”

He takes a breath, and then continues. “Of course you have your free will, Frankie. Nobody’s forcing you to do anything. It’s not like a record stuck on repeat, or whatever, it’s just… Okay, think of it this way: there’s four of me, but there’s only one you, right? From my point of view, today happened three times already, but for you it’s only going to happen this one time. Whatever you’re going to do is what I remember, you know?”

“But you already know how it ends!” Frank protests. “You say it like I can make it up as I go along, but it’s not true, Gee, you know what happens and I don’t, how can you know if I haven’t done it yet? Fuck, this is way too complicated.” He’s so frustrated; Gee’s making it all sound pretty sensible, but whenever Frank tries to wrap his brain around the idea, everything escapes him again and he ends up banging his head against an invisible wall. He hates not understanding shit.

Gee tries another approach. “Alright,” he says, “look at it this way, then. Let’s imagine there’s four of you, too. You’d still be exactly the same person each time, right?” Frank nods slowly. “So if you’re the same person,” Gee continues, “doesn’t it make sense that, given the same precise circumstances, you’d make the exact same choice? Like, not being cursed to repeat stuff, but more like… unknowingly choosing the same thing over and over, because it’s always the best choice! You know?”

Frank doesn’t know, not really, but he lets Gee continue. “Fuck, Frankie, listen, if you still don’t like the idea, you can walk out right now. I’m hoping that you’ll choose not to, but I wouldn’t stop you if you did. It’d be really interesting, actually, I wonder what would happen, if it’d change my memories...” Gerard trails off. He’s got his cute thinking face on. Frank sighs.

“You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?”

“Well, duh,” Gerard answers blithely, “I thought you’d read my comic?” He takes a step closer to Frank again, reaches out to touch Frank’s face. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but… Just turn off your brain and try and enjoy it, alright? It’s all gonna be fine, Frankie. Trust me.”

Frank does trust Gee, and ultimately that’s enough for him. He grins back at Gee despite himself, feeling the last of the worry seep out of him.

Suddenly, he remembers what Gerard said earlier. “So... What did you think happened in here?”

“Oh, I had a couple of ideas,” Gerard says, pursing his lips as he backs Frank up against the hotel room door. His voice is low and rough when he speaks, so different from before.

“I remember how it felt the first time around, suddenly being in this strange room with two dudes making out in front of me. I remember thinking maybe that was it, I’d finally taken too many pills and lost my mind… And then one of the guys turned out to be me from the future.” Gee chuckles softly, stroking up and down the inside of Frank’s arm. “And the other one looked a lot like this stoner dude I’d met at this house party, except he was so hot, Frankie, and I’d never actually wanted to fuck a guy till that moment, you know? Not for real.”

Frank swallows, letting his head fall back against the door. “But you did, then?”

Half of Gerard’s mouth twitches into his little smile before he ducks his head, and when he breathes “Hell yeah, I did,” Gerard’s so close to Frank’s neck that his breath tickles Frank’s skin. Frank closes his eyes and spreads his legs a little, inviting Gerard to press against him, shivering when he feels the warmth of Gerard’s body settle all along his front, familiar and exciting at the same time.

“I wanted you from the moment I saw that,” Gerard whispers. “I fought it pretty hard at first, but it was a lost cause from the start. I’m back there right now, wondering what’s taking us so long, wondering if we’re making out, if you’re on your knees for that future me while I’m just six feet away. Or if it’s me blowing you. I'm trying to hear, right now.”

Frank feels the wet press of Gerard’s mouth on his neck, the scrape of Gee’s fingers on the nape of his neck, where it feels so good, and bites back a moan. He pulls away a little, looks up at the white ceiling, struggling to string his thoughts together. The logistics of time-travel were hard enough to get a grasp on before Gerard started grinding against him.

“So, wait, what you’re saying is,” Frank pants, “seeing yourself with me made you want me?”

Gerard nods, licking along Frank’s jaw. “I know. Fucking mindtrip, huh?”

“You could say that,” Frank snorts, trying to get some friction from Gee’s leg.

“It’s a paradox, actually,” Gerard’s voice pipes up, and Frank startles, because Gee’s mouth is busy biting at his earlobe, which means that it’s not him talking.

Blond Gerard is leaning against the wall just behind Gee, his cool stance belied by his hungry eyes.

Frank realizes then that he stopped hearing noise from the bathroom a while ago, and he wonders how long Gerard’s been watching; realizes soon after that there is no way Gee didn’t know all along that they were being watched. Fuckers, both of... him. He grabs Gerard’s shirt front and uses it to wipe at his neck in retaliation. Not that Gee – or any Gerard, really – cares about a little drool on his clothes.

“Paradoxes have been used in mathematics since Ancient Greece, even in architecture,” Blond Gerard lectures, looking smug. Frank had forgotten what a pretentious asshole he was.

“If you quote Inception at me right now, I will kick you in the balls so hard it’ll send you back to 2006,” he says, walking past the two amused Gerards and back into the main room.

“He always says that, and I still don’t know what it’s about,” Frank hears one Gerard say to the other, but he doesn’t respond, because he’s suddenly faced with the only Gerard he really hoped he would never see again.

*

This Gerard looks terrible.

His skin is grey and his eyes puffy; his lips are cracked and pale; his greasy, damp hair falls limply into his face. He’s sweating, radiating misery even in sleep, curled up in a ball in the armchair in the corner of the room. He looks so small, wrapped in Gee’s big fluffy bathrobe. His hands are tucked between his knees in a way that Frank is only too familiar with.

Frank had pushed this particular image of Gerard far, far back into his mind, and being reminded of how bad it had been, how close it had come, is like a punch to the gut.

Still, it pales in comparison to the way Frank's heart breaks when he sees the way Young Gerard is looking at his future self.

“This isn’t me,” Young Gerard says fiercely, a mix of fear and pity on his face. He’s climbed onto the bed, sitting backed up against the headboard, a pillow clutched to his chest like it’s going to protect him from his future. “It’s not true. I’m never going to be like that.”

Frank bites his lip. Gee hadn’t exactly been sober when Frank first met him, and he’s heard enough stories of Gerard’s college and high school years; he knows even the youngest incarnation of Gerard is already into pretty heavy stuff, a lot of drinking and prescription drugs. He doesn’t say anything, though, grateful when Gee comes up behind him to lean his chin on Frank’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around Frank's torso.

Blond Gerard goes and joins his younger self near the head of the bed. “He’s a part of us,” he starts, his voice soft, but Young Gerard turns on him immediately.

“Fuck you, okay,” he spits out. “Look at him! Is this going to be my life? Is this what I'm supposed to see about my future? It’s supposed to get better, and this is this what I get? Stupid haircuts and, and, him?” he rants, throwing a defiant chin towards Frank. “What the fuck is the point of this?”

“Hey!” Frank protests and tries to take a step towards the bed, but Gee’s arms tighten across his chest, keeping him in place.

“Let him,” Gee says, ostensibly talking to Frank, but projecting his voice in a way that makes it clear he’s really addressing his younger self. “He’s a little lost right now, and scared, and confused, and angry at himself more than at us. I get it. In fact, I remember it.”

“That’s no reason to be an asshole,” Frank counters. He doesn’t care about what Young Gerard is implying about their relationship. Insulting Gee, however, is a capital offense in Frank’s book; even if this is technically Gerard insulting himself.

Frank feels Gee’s chuckle through his own chest. “When did that ever stop me, though?” Gerard replies, and Frank has to concede the point.

“Besides, he’s lying,” Gee continues. “He already wants you so much, Frankie, it’s totally messing with his head right now.”

Frank suddenly remembers being introduced to Gerard’s girlfriend when they first met. This Gerard still thinks of himself as straight, Frank reminds himself. It’s probably a lot to take in.

“It’s messing with me, too,” Blond Gerard adds, turning towards Frank and Gee. The hungry eyes are back, and Frank thinks he can place this Gerard even more precisely.

There had been a time at the Paramour, after Mikey had left, when Gerard had lashed out at anyone who tried to come close. Frank had never been one to tolerate bullshit, and the insane writing and recording process had put him especially on edge. Things had escalated quickly. For a few tense, miserable weeks he’d barely talked to Gerard, never mind let Gerard touch him.

Blond Gerard rises from the bed and starts advancing towards Frank, intent and predatory.

“Um, guys?” Frank takes a step back, but all that does is make him press closer against Gee's chest. Frank means to protest but Gee plasters himself to Frank's back, effectively shutting him up by scraping his teeth over the back of Frank's neck.

Oh god, Frank thinks. God, have mercy.

Blond Gerard has come to a stop in front of him, his face inches from Frank's. His breathing is labored already, like being this close to Frank is enough to make him fall apart.

“Frankie,” he is saying, looking down to Frank’s mouth and back up into his eyes, “Frankie, it’s been so long, you’ve gotta let me, just a taste,” and then Gerard’s lips are on Frank’s again and Gerard’s tongue is licking at the corner of Frank’s mouth, just how Frank likes it.

Gee is shifting behind Frank, stroking his hands up and down Frank’s sides, slipping under his hoodie to hold his waist, the tip of his fingers dipping the slightest bit under Frank’s waistband. “Fuck, that’s so hot,” Gee whispers, hips twitching forward against Frank’s ass. Frank can feel Gee getting hard. He presses back and Gee lets out a whoosh of hot air against his skin.

As if feeling that Frank’s attention isn’t on him anymore, Blond Gerard redoubles his efforts, bringing his hands up to tilt Frank’s face upwards so he can stroke his tongue into Frank’s mouth, shuffling closer so he can press his front against Frank’s. Frank’s hands twitch uselessly at his sides, unsure whether to reach for Gee behind him or clutch at Blond Gerard’s shoulders so he never stops kissing him.

Finally, he settles for grabbing one of Gee’s hands where it’s wandering across Frank’s stomach, and Blond Gerard’s hand where it’s stroking his neck.

“This is really fucking weird,” he pants when Blond Gerard lets go of his mouth, pressing his forehead against Frank’s, sort of sliding his nose along Frank’s nose and cheeks, like, breathing Frank in or something.

“But it’s awesome-weird, right?” Gee says, just behind Frank.

“It’s not bad,” Frank replies, leaning his head back onto Gee’s shoulder and squeezing his hand. “This is okay, right?” he checks, as he starts touching Blond Gerard’s face, bringing his hand up to card through the short hair. Man, he liked the hair. He loves Gerard’s red hair, and having longer strands to grab by the handful, but there was something about that blond hair that really did it for Frank.

“Fuck yeah,” Blond and Gee answer simultaneously, one breathless, one enthusiastic.

“Go on, touch him,” Gee prompts. “He’s gagging for it.”

Frank keeps trailing his fingers across Blond Gerard’s face, bringing them to his mouth, stroking his ear, enjoying the way Gerard is turning his face towards Frank’s hand like a sunflower following the sunlight. Frank grazes his nails down Gerard’s neck, brushes all the way down his shirt, lowers his gaze to the bulge in his pants.

“How long?” he asks Gerard. “How long since I let you touch me?”

Gerard moans, chasing more of Frank’s touch. “Weeks, fuck, Frank, it’s been weeks, I can’t take it, I need you, please.”

There’s a loneliness in Gerard’s voice that makes Frank’s gut clench, and he curses his younger self for being so cruel, even as he cards his hand through Gerard’s short hair again.

“Yeah, yes, come on, it’s okay, it’ll be okay,” he murmurs, and brings Gerard’s face to his for another hungry kiss.

Frank ends up backed against the closet’s wobbly door, shirtless, both Gerards licking at his neck and stroking his skin relentlessly. When he opens his eyes, he can see Young Gerard watching him from the bed, eyes huge, hands clenched on his jeans-covered thighs.

“You want to blow him?” Gee asks Blond Gerard, and Young Gerard gasps just as Frank moans. There is no answer from Blond Gerard, but he’s getting to his knees already, not wasting any time.

“Let me, Frankie,” he says as he brings both hands to Frank’s hips. “I want to, please.”

The only answer Frank feels capable of giving is a tug on the blond hair in front of him.

He lets himself be manhandled and undressed the rest of the way, and it’s overwhelming, hands all over his body, twin voices in his ears, a steady stream of Gerard in stereo. He presses one of Gee’s hands to his mouth while Blond Gerard starts licking and sucking him desperately.

Frank wants to thrust into the hot mouth but there are hands on his belly and thighs, keeping him still, and Gee’s hard and grinding against him, denim rough against Frank’s hip, and it’s too much, he’s so overloaded with sensation he doesn’t know how to deal with it, doesn’t know if he’ll even be able to come like this.

He opens his eyes, trying to regain some control, to get his mind to focus on something else than the heat and suction and the way Gee is licking at Frank’s neck and ear. It doesn’t help, though, because when his eyes refocus, what he sees is yet more of Gerard.

Tokyo Gerard is still fast asleep in the armchair, breathing slow and regular, but Young Gerard is staring, red-faced and wide-eyed, and while he’s not touching himself, he’s definitely tenting his jeans now.

Frank’s breath quickens at the sight and his hips make another futile attempt to thrust into Blond Gerard’s mouth. He never got to have Gerard that young, never got to see him like this, conflicted and hesitant but so clearly turned on. On that thought, he comes with a surprised gasp, keeping his eyes glued to the youngest of them as Blond Gerard swallows with a grateful moan.

Frank gives Young Gerard his best defiant look and turns his head towards Gee, who’s still at his side. He licks at Gee’s lips a little before pushing him to the floor, feeling utterly debauched as he brings both Gerards together by their hair, red in one hand, white in the other. He watches, fascinated, as they share a kiss, almost chaste, the barest hint of tongue, and gets the same flutter in his stomach he does every time he sees Gerard completely absorbed in something. Gee brings his hand up to his alter ego’s face, brushing against the corner of his lips before bringing his thumb to his own lips and licking it, and Frank’s flutter turns into a sharp zing.

He’s not the only one to appreciate the view, judging from the gasp that comes from the other end of the room then. Frank’s head whips up just in time to catch the tail end of Young Gerard’s orgasm, seeing his shoulders shaking as he presses a palm against his crotch, eyes squeezed shut.

Figures that he’d come from watching himself, Frank thinks. He wonders if it makes it easier for Gerard to reconcile this with his beliefs about his sexuality.

*

Young Gerard disappears into the bathroom immediately, locking the door behind him, so Frank and his two Gerards settle in his spot on the bed. Frank’s found his boxers and put them back on, feeling strange being the only one naked. He isn’t adverse to taking them off again, though, especially if he can convince Gee or Blond Gerard to lose some pieces of clothing themselves in the process.

Neither of the Gerards have come, and Frank’s considering what to do about this situation, wondering if maybe he can convince one of them to take care of the other – and wouldn’t that be a sight to see – when a sniffling noise comes from the armchair, followed by a pitiful moan.

“What the fuck?” Tokyo Gerard blinks his eyes half-open, shielding his eyes with a trembling hand. He looks confused until he realizes he’s not in the same spot he passed out, and then his face turns into a grimace of terror and he starts scrabbling backwards in the armchair as much as he can, which isn’t much. “What the fuck?” he repeats, frantic, “where am I? Who the fuck are you? Where’s my fucking band?”

Gee hops off the bed and advances on him, palms spread outwards in the universal sign for “I come in peace”.

“He explained it to you, earlier,” Gee says, jerking his head back towards Blond Gerard. “This is the time travel thing, remember?”

Tokyo Gerard frowns, then snarls when Gee tries to come closer. “Stay the fuck away from me,” he spits, and Gee takes a step back, shoulders slumping. Frank considers changing this one’s nickname to Mean Gerard instead. No one gets to hurt Gee. Not even himself.

“You’re not real,” Tokyo Gerard tells them. “None of this is real.”

There we go again, Frank thinks. He’s drawing a breath to explain everything about the mindfucking time-travel, when Young Gerard emerges from the bathroom. He walks up to the armchair and plants himself in front of his future self, hands on his hips in that fierce pose Frank always found so hilarious (and hot).

“Shut the fuck up, motherfucker,” he tells Tokyo Gerard, whose mouth drops open in indignation. “You better quit your bullshit and sober up, asshole –“

“Or what?” Tokyo Gerard interrupts. “You’re going to bitch at me?”

Frank would be amused by the Gerards standoff – no one pulls bitchy and unimpressed like Gerard, and this is Gerard squared – but the two older Gerards are looking decidedly unhappy with this turn of events, so Frank decides to take things into his own hands. He grabs two venti lattes from one of the discarded Starbucks cartons and shoves one into each of the bitchy Gerards’ hands.

“Why don’t we try a different course of action?” Frank suggests. “You both shut the fuck up. You,” he says, pointing at the youngest Gerard, who’s still got that hilarious bitchface on, “cut him a little slack, because you have no idea what he’s going through.”

Tokyo Gerard smirks a crookedly, but it’s short-lived, because Frank turns to him next. “And you,” he continues, “you better sober the hell up and get acquainted with your new best friend, and if you behave, this is what you’ll get at some point in the future.” He concludes his little speech by turning around, grabbing the closest Gerard and shoving his tongue down his throat.

It turns out to be a surprisingly effective strategy.

Frank walks the Gerard he’s kissing – Gee, by the strands of hair that are tickling his face – back towards the bed and climbs into his lap.

He can feel Gee’s erection through his jeans, the tension in his body, but there’s no urgency in his movements. Gee’s hands settle lightly on Frank’s hips, as if waiting for him to decide where he wants this to go.

And if it were just the two of them, Frank might just bring Gee off nice and lazy by rubbing against him, or maybe let Gee fuck his mouth, but all the loud breathing in the room makes it obvious they’re not alone, and Frank suddenly knows exactly what he wants.

He licks Gee’s lips one last time and looks at his face. There’s heat and also humor and approval in Gee’s eyes, and of course, Frank thinks, Gee already knows what Frank’s about to say.

He winks at Gee and looks back over his shoulder. “So, would you guys maybe enjoy watching him fuck me?”

*

Frank’s kneeling on the sheets, facing the foot of the bed. Gee’s behind him, slowly thrusting, barely inside Frank, breaching him just a little more with each move. It’s not Frank’s favorite position but he wanted to be able to see the other Gerards, and for them to see Gee. Frank knows exactly what kind of face Gee is making right now, and he knows it’s the hottest thing on earth. He wants all the past incarnations to look at what they'll become, to know how incredible it's going to be once they get together.

As for Frank, what he’s looking at is, well. Let’s say the evening has moved firmly back in a “wet dream” direction.

Tokyo Gerard had left his armchair while Gee had been preparing Frank, and slowly but surely, he’d come to kneel by the bed, appearing closer each time Frank opened his eyes yet never actually seeming to move – kind of like that creepy stalker cat in the YouTube video. He’s now looking up at Frank from behind his greasy bangs, eyes huge, chin resting on his folded arm at the edge the mattress, lips shiny and red. He alternates between licking them and taking sips of his coffee, of fucking course. Frank can smell it on his breath. He kind of wants to kiss him, but he’s not sure how it would go over. Instead he licks his lips and moans, Gee’s thrusts jolting him into the mattress, sliding him forward until his hand is inches away from Gerard’s.

There’s a sharp intake of breath from the direction of the armchair, and when Frank looks up, he sees the two other Gerards, Young Gerard resting in the V of Blond Gerard’s legs. From the way Blond Gerard’s arm is moving under his younger self’s clothes, it seems all qualms Young Gerard might have had about his straightness have disappeared. Or maybe he’s just thinking of it as masturbation.

Who cares, the only thing Frank knows it that it’s unbearably hot, kind of like when he watches Gerard touch himself and yet so completely different. It makes Frank long to touch too. He reaches a hand behind him, grabbing Gee’s hip and squeezing.

Gee answers by hitching Frank closer, giving him long, hard thrusts that fill him up, making him shiver. Frank is hard again, and he wouldn’t need much more to come, just a shift in angle and a hand on his cock, but he’s content to drag it out and enjoy the sensation and the sight and the noises for a while longer.

His eyes keep going from Gerard to Gerard, not knowing on which to settle, each one so hot in a such different ways.

Eventually, Gee’s moves take on a desperate quality and Frank knows it’s not going to last for much longer. He shifts, arching his back, and Gee grabs his shoulders and hitches Frank upwards, his back all against Gee’s front. He can feel Gee’s sweat mingle with his, the short, rapid thrusts of Gee’s hips, the little grunts he makes when he’s really fucking close to coming. Frank rubs his head back into the side of Gerard’s neck, rides out Gee’s orgasm, feeling his moan vibrate through his own ribcage.

He lets Gee pant against him for a minute, then starts grinding his ass back against him. Frank’s hard, really fucking hard now, and he needs to get off, but Gee’s going soft inside him and starting to pull out with a hiss. Frank lets out a disappointed whine, taking himself in hand. His eyes shut and he licks his lips, bites them, adding that little bit of sensation that makes him moan again.

“Oh fuck,” someone whispers, and Frank arches, spreading his knees, taking his other hand down to stroke at his balls, giving all of them a show.

“Shit,” someone agrees reverently. There's movement around Frank and he's being gently pushed forward again. He catches himself on one elbow, never letting go of his cock, speeding up his strokes as a hand travels down his back and to his ass, spreading him open, rubbing around his hole. Frank pants and arches back into it, feeling wanton and exposed, knowing that they're all watching him right now. The knowledge sends a thrill down to his groin and he whines, circling his hips, trying to get whichever Gerard is touching him to give him more, more, so he can fucking come.

He keeps working himself tight and fast, eyes clenched, head hanging low and finally, finally there are fingers pressing into his ass, pushing all the way inside in one single stroke, rubbing against his prostate and Frank seizes around them, shocked into coming, the weight of the Gerards’ gaze like a physical caress on his skin.

Frank collapses completely as soon as the fingers pull out, panting into the bedspread, little shocks of pleasure running through his stomach and legs. He's totally going to open his eyes as soon as he's pulled himself back together; he doesn't want to fall asleep and risk missing anything.

His body feels heavy, though, like he's sinking into the mattress. There are hands stroking his hair and hands lightly touching his back, stroking his arms, tracing his tattoos; he is warm and sated, surrounded by touches and whispers, and he lets himself enjoy it and keep his eyes closed for just a little while longer.

*

There’s a hand rubbing Frank’s head, and he stretches into it as he wakes up, relishing the touch and the soreness in his body.

He can hear hushed voices in the room, and for a second he’s not sure who's speaking. Is Gerard talking to himself again? Did Ray and Mikey come over? And if the guys are here, why didn’t Gee at least pull a sheet over Frank? It’s not like Mikey and Ray haven’t seen Frank’s bare ass before, but Frank’s not too happy about being passed out buck naked on the bed while they’re all having a little meeting without him. He doesn’t like being left out of things, is all.

Frank blinks his eyes open, fully prepared to bitch Gee out, but it’s not the guys Gee’s talking to, of course.

There are still four Gerards in the room, a kaleidoscope of Gerards, and Frank's annoyance turns into relief that they haven’t disappeared yet.

Young Gerard and Blond Gerard are perched on one of the chair’s armrests, whispering animatedly to each other; Tokyo Gerard is sitting cross-legged on the floor, his back to the wall, watching them talk.

Gee’s the one sitting on the bed next to Frank, stroking his hair. He scratches at Frank's scalp once he notices him waking up and gives him a grin and a eyebrow raise, all can you believe this shit? Frank answers with a grin of his own before shuffling closer to Gee. He shifts until his head is on Gee's thigh, reaching for a corner of the sheet to cover himself with, turning his attention back to the conversation once he's settled to his convenience.

“Really? A marching band?” Young Gerard is saying, sounding dubious.

“A parade,” Blond Gerard corrects snottily. “It’s a concept album, alright? I've got these awesome sketches for the videos already.”

A snort comes from the Gerard sitting on the floor, and Blond Gerard turns to him in a second. “I would shut it, if I were you,” he says, cutting and haughty. “We'll see how you like writing sober. At least my concept isn't taken directly from a Garth Ennis comic.”

Frank's hand tenses on Gee's leg as he watches Tokyo Gerard's face flush, even as his jaw sets in the stubborn way that means trouble. Blond Gerard is still literally looking down at his past self, drawing his breath, doubtlessly preparing for another unpleasant remark, and Frank is reminded of how harsh this Gerard always was regarding his past, shame and self-loathing manifesting as violent denunciation.

The atmosphere is still crackling with tension and Frank's wondering whether he should intervene when Gee's voice cuts in, quiet but firm.

“Come on, guys,” he intones. “Don't make us look bad in front of the kid.”

Frank sees then how the youngest of the Gerards is looking back and forth between the two others, holding himself tense again, eyes wide and a little scared, maybe.

“Tell us about your sketches, Gerard,” Frank says then, and Blond Gerard jumps right into an animated description of his visual inspiration and how Tim Burton relates to Joan of Arc relates to Freddie Mercury, and Frank breathes a sigh of relief as the other Gerards relax into attentive postures.

“Look at that,” Gee's voice whispers in his ear, “what an arrogant little fuck I was.”

“Was?” Frank snorts, earning himself a swat on the ass, but Gee hauls him closer on the bed and snuggles behind him.

“You love me anyway,” Gee says, and Frank can't do anything but agree to that.

They both watch in amused silence as Blond Gerard and Tokyo Gerard team up to try and convince their younger self of the combined necessity and awesomeness of band uniforms.

“So what you're saying is, even in a rock band, I'm still fucking uncool,” Young Gerard sighs, and Frank hides a giggle when Gee joins in with “You'll get it soon. When you're older,” and continues with his speech about growing up on your own terms and keeping it dirty and using art as the weapon.

Frank tunes it out. He’s heard it all before – repeatedly, thanks to all the press they've been doing lately – so he can concentrate on really watching the scene in front of him.

He looks at each Gerard in sequence; Young Gerard, then Tokyo Gerard, then Blond Gerard. It's crazy how different they are.

Hair, weight, age, those are obvious, but what strikes Frank the most is the eyes; there's intelligence and humor and sadness and hope and pain in each of them, but in varying amounts that translate to desperate, defeated or determined.

It shouldn't be this hard to believe they're really younger versions of Gee; Frank was there for all of it, he's known and loved each of them. But being so close to Gerard made the changes almost seamless; getting to see Gerard's past incarnations side by side is more like looking through one of the souvenir boxes Frank keeps. Like they're brothers, coexisting side by side; instead, Frank knows, no matter how much they resist it right now, one will turn into the other and eventually into the Gee Frank loves now.

Such a long way, Frank thinks, and then catches Young Gerard give his older selves a proud look, and it doesn't seem so long after all.

Frank shuffles backwards into Gee, feeling so proud he’s about to burst with how much he loves him. All of him.

Frank feels Gee shift behind him, then say: “Guys, guys, by my count there’s about half an hour left, so you need to speak now or... forever hold your peace, so to speak.”

The past Gerards make a collective noise of dismay.

“It's really going to happen? The band?” the youngest Gerard asks, eyes big and bright with hope, although he's trying to hide it. It’s adorable and heart-breaking, how incredulous he still is, even though he's got the evidence right in front of him. Gee must think so, too, because he jumps up from the bed and grabs Young Gerard, hugging him hard. “You’re in for such a ride, kid, just you wait. Just hold on tight, alright?” The other two share a look that reminds Frank so much of Mama Way's proud face that he can't help but laugh a little.

“What about you, Frank, you still have your band?” Young Gerard asks when he emerges from the hug, patting his hair down, and this question Frank answers right away. “Yes,” he says. “I do,” because he does. Things have been tough, tougher than they'd been in a while, what with Bob and scrapping the album and all the worry over the band’s future. But they made it through, and yeah, he has his band.

He decides against telling Young Gerard they’re in the same band, though. None of the other Gerards let it slip, either, so he figures they'll let the kid have some surprises.

“Hey, you’re planning on calling Matt, right?” Gee pipes up suddenly. Young Gerard nods. “You know Shaun's friend, Ray Toro?” Gee continues. “You should give him a call, too. See what he’s up to.”

“Oh my god,” Frank moans, because, seriously? Is there no end to how complicated things can get? He'd always smirked at Gee's origin story for the band, the supposed “good feeling” he loved telling reporters about.

“Don’t look at me like that, Frankie,” Gee says with a smirk, “I’m just passing it on!”

Frank's head is buzzing a little, and his brain hurts from trying to piece things together. This room, right now, is the start of so, so many momentous events... A thrill runs down Frank's spine, a mix of fear and excitement. He was welcomed into MCR with open arms, but he was still the last to join, and sometimes he regretted not being in at the very beginning. No wonder Gee always chuckled when Frank talked about it. Turns out Frank had been at the center of things all along.

When all this is over, he's settling down with his journal and a bottle of Advil, and he's going to draw some motherfucking charts.

The charts will have to wait, though, because when Frank shakes himself out of his bewilderment, Tokyo Gerard is hovering next to the bed, looking anxious.

Frank pats the rumpled sheets, bracing himself in case any new revelations are coming. Gerard looks – stares, really – at Frank through the strands of hair in front of his eyes, eyes narrowed, lips pursed and head cocked to the side. Frank feels strangely like he's being appraised. He resists the urge to fidget. Or pull Gerard's hair, like he used to do.

“When did you say we get together?” Gerard blurts out finally.

“I didn't say,” Frank points out, and Gerard makes his patented “whatever” hand-flail, gearing up for an argument. Frank is relieved when Gee steps in and says “soon,” which seems to satisfy the younger Gerard. He reclines on the pillows, still looking at Frank intently. Frank has a thought for his past self; he really had no idea what he was up against.

He's almost convinced himself getting down with this Gerard would not be such a bad idea, never mind the whole “being totally fucked-up” thing, when a touch on his shoulder brings him back to his senses.

“Frank?” Blond Gerard says, biting his lip, “can we...?” He beckons to an unoccupied corner of the room, and Frank follows. Gerard looks around quickly, making sure they are out of earshot of the others, and bends his head close to Frank's.

“How's... How's Mikey?” he whispers. “Is he...” There is naked fear in Gerard's eyes, and fuck, Frank should have thought of telling him Mikey would be fine, but he was busy living out his stupid fantasy. Fuck.

“Fuck, Gerard, no,” Frank reassures, “Mikey's fine. He's great. He's really happy right now, you'll see.”

Gerard's eyes get big and shiny, and he takes a step closer, sighing.

Frank reaches up to slide his fingers through Gerard's hair. “Mikey's gone blond too, actually,” he says, and Gerard gives him a small, crooked smile.

“I just... I miss you,” Gerard says softly. “Mikey's gone and nothing's going right and I know it’s all my fault, and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Frankie, and I know you're going to forgive me eventually or you wouldn't be here, but... Just tell me how long? I don't know how much more of this I can take before I go crazy. That house…” He trails off, and Frank grabs his hand and squeezes.

Frank knows, he remembers those terrible weeks at the Paramour, when Gerard blamed everything and everyone for Mikey's state and his eventual departure. Gerard would lock himself up in his room for hours on end, and when he came down to the studio, their conversations were so cold; no matter how much Frank pushed and cursed, Gerard remained curt and polite, which as far as Frank was concerned was worse than silence.

Frank remembers the dreadful feeling of walking up to Gerard's room at night and waiting outside, afraid to knock, afraid of the outcome of any conversation they would have. When the greenish ray of light under Gerard's door disappeared, Frank would go back to his own, cold room and stare at the shadows on the ceiling for hours, jumping at each strange sound.

The memory makes Frank's stomach twist, and he strokes Gerard's gaunt cheek, running his thumb along the darker skin under his eye.

“It'll get better soon, Gee, I promise,” Frank says, and it's like the nickname undoes Gerard, because he's launching himself at Frank, burying his face in Frank's neck, going “Frankie, Frankie,” like this is his Frank, the Frank he actually wants. Frank holds him tight and pets his hair, strokes his shoulders, rubs his back slowly. Gerard whimpers and goes tense, holding himself stiffly, and Frank is suddenly reminded that he didn't see this particular Gerard get off all afternoon.

“Come on,” he says, and sinks to his knees. “One for the road, okay?” He throws a quick glance at the other end of the room, looking at Gee for confirmation, and then starts unbuttoning Blond Gerard’s jeans.

Gerard's hands go to Frank's head immediately, rubbing at the short hair. He's still whispering but Frank can't hear what he's saying now, busy trying to tug Gerard's jeans and underwear off. Were his jeans really already this tight in 2006?

Gerard's not helping; in fact, he's stroking the back of Frank's neck in the most distracting way. Frank finally manages to free Gerard's hips from the damn jeans, Gee's underwear still half-covering his cock, revealing just the beginning of his pubic hair.

“Wait,” Gerard says. He starts shuffling awkwardly with his pants around his thighs. “I can't do this standing up.”

Frank puts a hand on Gerard's hip to stop him moving away. “I'm sure you'll manage, given a little help,” he says. “Gee, want to come over here and give us a hand?”

“I'll do it,” comes the answer, but when Frank raises his head, it's not Gee. Tokyo Gerard is standing next to them. “If that's alright?” He looks down at Frank, who looks up at Blond Gerard inquiringly.

“I don't know,” Frank says, “is it?”

Frank's cock gives a twitch, making its position clear on the subject of inter-Gerard fucking, but at the same time Frank's brain supplies him with a flash image of the reversed situation. Would he really want to make out with himself? Would it be gross, kind of like kissing a brother? Frank's an only child, but the thought of kissing Mikey or Ray does make him frown, so who knows.

Still, the idea of being on the receiving end of his own kiss, his own touch, is interesting. Maybe he'd finally get to feel what makes Gee lose it so fast when Frank licks his cock in that particular fluttery motion he discovered recently.

Saliva floods his mouth at the thought, and he gets back to the business at hand. So to speak.

To Frank's utter delight, Blond Gerard is kissing Tokyo Gerard over his shoulder, soft and careful despite the awkward angle. They're exactly the same height, Frank thinks, then mentally kicks himself.

“You still smell like beer,” Blond Gerard wonders aloud, making a face, and Frank's stomach twists in reflex before he remembers that everything is fine. Gee's been through this and he's fine.

“It's my hair, I think,” Tokyo Gerard confirms. “But... it's the last time.”

“It is,” Blond Gerard nods. He leans his head against Tokyo Gerard's shoulder, then starts stroking Frank's neck again, and Frank takes it as a sign that he should proceed. There's probably not a lot of time left and now that he's started, he finds he really wants to do this.

He slides Gerard's underwear off the rest of the way, shuffles closer on his knees, until he can rub his face against Gerard's hip. The scent here is one Frank’s used to, Gerard's usual soap brand and the sharp note that is unmistakably him.

Frank wants to tell Gee, but when he looks over at the bed he sees Gee is busy elsewhere, mouthing at the neck of the youngest Gerard, who's watching Frank with half-lidded eyes.

“Alright then”, Frank mutters, and licks a wet trail up Gerard's cock, swirling around the crown and dipping into the slit. Gerard lets out a harsh breath in response, so Frank does it again, and again, until Gerard's cock is wet all over from Frank's spit and it glides easily between his lips when he takes it all the way in.

Frank knows exactly what it would take to make Gerard lose it in less than three minutes, but he doesn't want to rush this, so he deliberately avoids all the tricks he's learnt along the years. He doesn't want to spoil Gerard about the awesome new tongue thing either, so he keeps the suction light, just rubs with his tongue under the head, bringing a hand up to stroke at the base.

Gerard's breathing seems to get louder – it's hard to tell, really, because the room is filled with a cacophony of pants and quiet moans coming from above and from Frank's right – and Frank moves his hand from Gerard's dick to his balls, letting his teeth scrape against the skin as he sucks some more.

Frank's ready for it when Gerard twitches forward into his mouth; he relaxes his throat to let him in, relishing the stretch in his jaw. He's not ready for two hands to land on his neck simultaneously, beside the one that's already resting on his head.

Frank moans, leaning into the Gerards' combined touch, which makes one of the hands tighten on his nape as the thrusting intensifies. Blond Gerard is fucking Frank's mouth now, rocking forward in a way that must make him rub against Tokyo Gerard on the backward thrusts, and Frank doesn't know whose hand it is that's pressing his head forward rhythmically, making him open wider, suck harder. He doesn't care. He moans again, mouth filled with Gerard's cock, surrounded by his taste and touches and smell; he'd be hard himself if he hadn't already come twice in as many hours.

Frank risks a glance to his right, to Gee and the kid, but it’s a mistake. Gee's still sucking at Young Gerard's neck, but now he's got a hand down the kid's pants, as well. A flash of heat goes across Frank’s face. He wants to feel Blond Gerard come right the fuck now.

He tightens his hand and his lips, sucking as hard as he can, fluttering his tongue, moaning, bringing out every trick in his arsenal. Fuck holding back, he wants to bring Gerard off and then watch – possibly even help - as Gee does filthy things to his young self.

It works, judging by the way fingers are digging into Frank's nape and scalp and shoulders, by the sounds coming from above; whimpers and moans and wet kissing sounds. Frank's jaw aches and his tongue feels numb but he keeps going, giving it his best, and then Gerard's voice raises, hoarse and desperate, calling his name, before Frank's mouth fills with come.

Frank pulls off and swallows as best he can. He's breathless, like he was the one getting blown, so he takes a second to compose himself, sitting on his heels at Gerard's feet.

Blond Gerard falls to his knees in front of him, chest heaving, and rests his head against Frank's shoulder. Frank cups his neck, combs his fingers through the cropped hair. Gee hasn't had short hair like this since. It made him look so vulnerable, Frank thinks as he presses a kiss on the top of Gerard's head. He wonders if it was voluntary.

Gerard raises his head, blinking owlishly, and gives Frank a kiss too, gentle and solemn.

Frank and Tokyo Gerard help Blond Gerard put himself back together - well, Frank helps, Tokyo Gerard kind of gets in the way, pawing at his older self - then the three of them sit down against the wall and watch as Gee brings Young Gerard off with a twist of his wrist and a sharp bite to his throat.

There's such a solemn pause, such stillness in the room suddenly, that Frank thinks this must be the moment the Gerards go home. He surprises himself with how sad the thought makes him.

Quickly, Frank leans closer to Blond Gerard and whispers in his ear: “Ask me about the spy guitar part, okay?” because they're running out of time, and he needs to make sure things will go as planned.

Gerard looks hesitant, so Frank gives him another quick kiss. “I know I said I couldn't do it. Ask me again anyway.”

Blond Gerard nods, and Frank starts to get up, but Gerard keeps him in place with an arm across the chest.

“Wait, wait, it's not over yet. Watch this,” Gerard says, nodding to Tokyo Gerard, who got up and is striding purposefully to the bed. He shuffles until he's on top of Gee, undoes the knot in his bathrobe belt and starts jerking off there and then.

“Oh my god,” Frank croaks, stunned by the sheer hotness of the scene.

“Right?” Blond Gerard says as, on the bed, Gee lifts his own shirt, exposing his chest. “It was so hot, I can't wait to be on the other side of it,” Gerard concludes.

Frank struggles to draw breath. He can't answer, can't even produce more than a silent gasp when Tokyo Gerard shoots all over his older self, groaning, and collapses next to him on the bed.

“Wow, that was even hotter than I thought it would be,” Gee says in kind of a dreamy voice. “But I’m sorry to say, it also means it's really time.” To Tokyo Gerard, Gee says “You better go get dressed.”

“Yeah,” Frank agrees. “I'm going to be freaked out enough when I finally locate you, I don't need to find you naked on top of everything else.”

How would that even work, Frank wonders? Would Gerard's clothes be transported back and dumped in a pile next to him?

“You’re going to be so pissed at me for disappearing,” Tokyo Gerard says as he closes the robe again and shuffles to the bathroom.

“I’ll forgive you,” Frank reassures him. He climbs back to his feet and catches Gerard by the shoulders. The smell of sweat and old beer gives Frank a headrush of bad memories, but he pushes on. “You've gotta know this about me, Gerard, even in your time. I’d give you a million chances. I won’t need to, though, because you’re going to get through this. That's the one thing you have to remember, okay? No matter what happens in the next few days, or months, or whatever. You're going to get through it.”

When Frank’s finished with his little speech, Gerard's cheeks are wet. He doesn’t even bother wiping his cheeks before he draws Frank into a hug, snuffles, and disappears into the bathroom. Frank clears his throat. His eyes are prickling. He swallows a couple of times.

“He's… I'm really going to be okay, right?” Young Gerard asks in a thick voice, and when Blond Gerard tells him “Of course you will, I'm here, aren't I?” Frank's eyes water all over again. He's not the only one, either; Gee's blinking a lot, suddenly, and when Frank catches his eyes Gee gives up the act and rubs at his face with a sheepish smile.

*

“It’s happening,” Gee says suddenly, once they're all back in the room, cleaned and dressed, huddled together on the bed. “Can you guys feel it?”

“Yeah,” Blonde Gerard says. Tokyo Gerard looks kind of dubious, examining his fingertips carefully like he’s expecting them to dematerialize before his eyes. Young Gerard looks... well, not so different from how he did when he first appeared: scared shitless and trying to cover it with attitude. The crossed armed/cocked hip combo doesn't fool Frank anymore.

“Does it hurt?” Frank asks Gee, because he knows Young Gerard won't, and because he wants to know. It would really suck to ruin the experience with screams and stuff.

Gee gives him a quick kiss. “No, Frank, it doesn’t hurt,” Gee says. “It feels weird, like really strong pins and needles? And at the same time, like... Like dreaming you're falling out of bed, but you’re not, you know? I don't know how to describe it, really. But it doesn't hurt.”

“How will I know it's going to happen?” Frank asks.

“You won't,” Gee answers with an apologetic smile, and Frank's heart sinks a little. He moves to the armchair, the better to keep his eyes on all the Gerards on the bed, determined not to look away.

In the end, though, Gee was right once again, and it's terribly anticlimactic. Frank’s trying not to blink in case something happens, but sure enough, there’s a laugh outside the room, the guys coming back from the city maybe, and Frank startles and loses focus for a second, and when he looks back to the bed, they're gone.

He doesn't know why he's so disappointed. It's just like when they showed up, really; one minute he was alone, and the next, the three ghosts of Gerards past had been there.

Still, Frank feels cheated.

Gee’s still there, though, and Frank moves gratefully into his open arms.

“I kind of wanted to keep them,” he admits into Gee's chest.

“They're not strays, Frankie, they have places to be,” Gee says, but he rubs Frank's nape soothingly. “Want to go back to Starbucks and get some warm coffee?” Gee asks.

Frank shakes his head, burrowing deeper into Gee, his scent so comforting and familiar. Frank sighs.

“Let's stay in until someone comes looking for us, then,” Gee says softly, and Frank nods and squeezes tighter.

*

Frank wishes he’d taken pictures.

The hotel room feels strangely empty, now it’s only him and Gee again, and the whole afternoon already feels like a distant, crazy dream. Frank’s body remembers, his mouth still a little swollen, his muscles starting to ache, but the warm, overwhelming Gerard-smell of the hotel room started to clear when Gee opened the window to smoke, and Frank’s already losing some of the finer details.

He really, really wishes he’d remembered to take pictures.

He joins Gerard at the window and says so, stealing a drag from Gee’s cigarette.

“Well, for all we know, that would have disturbed the fabric of time,” Gee says with a wink.

He gives Frank the cigarette and steps back into the room, looking around until he finds his clothes and rummaging inside his jeans for his wallet. He rifles through it, discarding receipts and movie tickets and who knows what else he’s always shoving in there, finally taking a piece of yellow paper out of one of the most hidden recesses.

“Here,” Gerard says, handing the folded square to Frank.

It’s half torn and almost falls in pieces when Frank unfolds it, the seams coming apart. At first, all Frank can see is a mess of scribbled lines and colors, patches of black and red and bold strokes of pen.

He squints at the drawing a little, tilting his head this way and that, and all of a sudden his eyes must focus or something, because it’s very clear what he’s looking at. The scribbles resolve into familiar tattoos, and yes, that’s his side, his outstretched back, here his bowed head, there the letters on his hands. He’s at the center of the drawing, folded in half, reaching towards what he now recognizes as a hunched figure at the bottom left of the drawing; behind his own form, Frank makes out Gee, head thrown back, bright hair filled in in red marker.

He strokes the paper lightly, reverently, looking up at Gerard who’s lighting another cigarette. In the bottom right corner of the drawing is Gee’s looping signature. No date, though.

“Gee?”

“I drew it that night, when I came back,” Gerard says in between drags, like he knew what Frank was going to ask. “All of a sudden I was in the basement again, and nothing made sense, so I took a bunch of Xanax and drew what I could remember and put it in a drawer and kind of… made myself forget about it.”

“Shit.” Frank thinks for a while. “You’ve been carrying it with you, though. Since when?”

“I found it again a couple of years ago, you know, when I went back to empty the basement?” Gerard replies.

“So you had to remember this was going to happen, then? I mean, with the red hair, and stuff… How didn’t you know, today?”

“Well, there’s no calendar in the room, for one, so I had no idea of the actual date. I mean, when I dyed my hair, and you shaved yours, I knew it would be coming soon, but it’s only when I found myself at Starbucks that it clicked. All of a sudden, I just knew.”

Frank nods thoughtfully. “Only you would be late to your own crazy time-traveling party, dude.”

“That’s the point, though,” Gee replies, pursing his lips as he ashes. Frank’s mind flashes back to Blond Gerard. “It’s like we said before. We can’t change things. This is always how it happened before; it's how it’s always going to happen. Even if I’d somehow known that it would happen today, I still wouldn’t have made it here on time, I’m pretty sure.”

Frank thinks about it for a minute. “Eh, I guess it’s better than most of your excuses!” he says finally, earning himself a swat in the shoulder.

Gerard puts out the butt of his cigarette on the windowsill and lights another one. “It’s kind of sad, actually,” he says eventually.

“What is?” Frank asks.

“This was the last time I got to live through this.” Gerard looks pensive.

“Oh,” Frank says, because, yeah. If he had the opportunity to relive the afternoon, he’d take it in a heartbeat. He looks at his drawing again.

There's another pause, the muted sounds of Gerard dragging in smoke and blowing it out.

“I don't know what happens now,” Gerard says around an exhale.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” another drag, another exhale, “I didn't really know the details, but I knew I would be okay. Well, obviously not the first time, seeing myself drunk and depressed and stuff.“ Frank's mind flashes to Gerard's headlong descent into booze and drugs, and how he never for a minute seemed to stop and think about it.

“But in the end, I knew I'd be okay. More than.” Gerard gives Frank a quick smile. “Until today. Now it's all a blank page again,” he concludes.

“I think it's exciting,” Frank says. “Not knowing? It means anything could happen.”

Gee considers this thought for a while, then fingers the drawing, running his finger over the worn edge.

“You might be right,” he says, and takes the drawing from Frank and draws Frank into his arms instead.

Frank wraps his arms around Gerard's waist. 'You'll be fine. We'll be fine,' he tries to tell Gerard in the language of hugs. Gerard squeezes back.

It's going to be time to go to the venue soon. Frank doesn't really want to leave the room, but the excitement of playing a show soon is starting to bud in his stomach.

He's starting to think about what kind of stuff to put in his backpack when a thought occurs to him. “Hey, is this the only time something like this happens? Is it going to happen again? Do you remember anything else?”

Gee says nothing, just winks at him.

“Fine then, don’t tell me,” Frank grumbles. “I liked you better when you were young and impressionable.”

Gerard snorts. “I was never impressed by you.”

Frank tilts his head to the side. “Yeah, you were.”

“Yeah, I was.” Gerard squeezes Frank's neck. He lights a cigarette around Frank, hands it to him, and grabs another one for himself.

“So fucking weird, though,” Frank mumbles around the butt in his mouth.

“Tell me about it,” Gerard answers.

*

The end.

*