•Tonight • Frerard • Completed•

Chapter Six

I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have because my eyelids were closed and sunlight was flowing bright and yellow right through them. And someone was gently stroking my back. It was warm and nice. I sighed, wondering if I was dreaming, then memories of the night before flooded my brain.

Wide awake, I rolled over, half expecting I'd imagined everything and no one would be there -- or worse, someone else would -- but there he was. Frank. On his side, watching me intently, hand now running along my side instead of my back

"Hey." I smiled.

"Hey." He tugged at my waist, pulling me closer, and kissed me.

"You stayed." Good job, Captain Obvious. Now tell him his hair is black.

"Is that okay?" His hand stilled, and he squinted at me, unsure.

"Fuck, yeah." Eloquent. "I just... I don't know. I thought you might have snuck back out to the couch before Mikey woke up."

"I love you." He said the words so plainly, so simply, but they didn't compute in my head. As much as I wanted to believe him, I figured he must be mistaken. "I think that's just the orgasms talking." Good. Give him an out.

He breathed out a laugh. I knew it. He wasn't serious.

He snorted again, and I realized he was trying, unsuccessfully, to stay quiet.

"It's not that funny," I whispered and he only snorted again.

Great. He's got a case of the giggles, and I'm dying. The more he tried to keep from laughing, the harder time he seemed to have keeping it under control. His body shook so hard the whole bed was moving.

I started to get annoyed. "What the fuck is so funny?"

He held up a fist and wiggled his thumb up and down to make the talking hand puppet mouth. "I'm a talking orgasm," he said in a phony French accent. "It was not me."

I stared as he dissolved into laughter again, pulling a pillow over his face to mute the sound. He held the pupper hand up again.

"Sorry," it said as he tossed the pillow aside. I couldn't help but chuckle. He took a deep breath and held it, wiping his eyes, then blew it out. "Seriously, sorry."

"It's okay."

He turned to me, eyes serious now, and touched my face. Just a light touch -- from my forehead to my jaw -- tender enough to send heartbreak and desire crashing over me in alternating waves, like fire and ice. "You and Mikey and your mom, you're like family to me, and you have been for years, but this..." He gestured between us, like he didn't have the words. "What happened between us... It's not about that. It's about you and me and how I've felt about you for a long fucking time. I love you." The words seeped in a little, melting over me. He said it again, his voice softer, face closer. I felt each word against my lips. "I love you."

And then we were kissing again. Hard. So hard I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't get close enough to him. He pulled me on top of him, and I grinded against him like my life depended on it, hands tangling in each other's hair.

The pounding on my bedroom door nearly gave me a heart attack. "Yo, Gee, I'm starving."

Mikey. Fuck. Impeccable timing, as always.

I was pretty sure I'd locked the door, and pretty sure Mikey wouldn't just barge into my room, but I panicked anyway. "Sorry, I overslept, I'll be out in a few."

"Thanks. Can you make the special? I'm hella hungover." He yelled through the door.

"Sure." I yelled back.