•Tonight • Frerard • Completed•

Problem.

"He's not gay, you know."

If I had a dollar for every time Mikey reminded me that his best friend, Frank, wasn't gay, I'd be able to afford my own place instead of sharing an apartment with the two of them. The first time Mikey had said it, I thought I was going to die. I was sixteen, and we were sitting in the kitchen of our old house, eating leftover pizza and drinking coffee. Frank had just left after being at our house all day. We'd watched a Star Wars movie marathon and followed that up with a Mario Kart battle. It was the first time I'd gotten to hang out with Frank for more than a few hours, and I was near delirious with the rush.

"I mean it, Gee. He's not. I'm not trying to be mean or anything, I just don't want you getting your hopes up."

I could still feel the bite of pizza stuck in my throat as my cheeks burned crimson. Forcing myself to swallow, I choked down the mouthful and shrugged. "I'm not."

"Good."

That was five years ago, and I still can't eat pizza without hearing those words. He's not gay. Not that I need pizza to remind me. For a few years, pretty much any time we'd all hang out, Mikey would bring it up as soon as we were alone. Once I'd hit college and started dating, he stopped mentioning it.

Until a few weeks ago, when Frank moved into our apartment.

Mikey and I had offered up our couch as soon as Frank mentioned that he'd be needing a place to stay.

"Are you sure?" Frank asked uncertainly.

Mikey answered before I could. "Of course we're sure. Shit, you're here eating our food half the time anyway."

That was about as close as Mikey could come to expressing compassion.

Frank ignored him and turned to me. "What about you? You sure it's okay? I know you've got a lot going on with finals."

That was true. I had exams and an art portfolio that needed finishing so I could complete my grant application for my junior year. Frank would be a huge distraction, plus I always did my sketches and painting in the living room, which is where we kept the couch we offered him. But hell, I'd never say "no" to anything where Frank was concerned. Besides, I wasn't about to let him sleep in his car just because his roommate was being a dick, and his new place wasn't available yet. "Consider the couch yours. I'll move my drafting table over by the window so you have a place for your stuff."

Frank's smile warmed me in ways I knew he didn't intend. Anything that drew my attention to his mouth my brain set on paths I'd been trying to keep it from taking me for years - light colored lips smooth, the lower one so plump and tempting, I wanted to lick it, bite it, and rub various parts of my body across it.

As usual, Mikey kept his thoughts to himself until Frank left to go get his stuff. I counted in my head, wondering how many seconds it would take him to mention it.

One one thousand, two one thousand, three-

"He's not gay, you know."

This time I laughed. Under three seconds. That may be a new record. "He's not?" I gasped and clutched my chest, falling backward onto the couch - the couch where Frank would soon be sleeping in every night.
Does he sleep nude?

Mikey whacked me on the head with a pillow. "I mean it, dork."

"I know you do. Don't worry. I'm more than well aware."

Not that it stops the fantasies. Speaking of which, do you happen to know if he sleeps nude?