"Not everything in my life does have homoerotic subtext, Gerard, shut the fuck up!" Frank rolled his eyes, groaning as he leaned back into the sofa, hoping that it'd swallow him whole so he wasn't forced to deal with the fact that Gerard fucking Way hadn't stopped laughing since the moment they'd gotten out of school.
"Fucking Megan's parents faces, though, Frank, it's like-" Gerard continued to lose every ounce of chill that he may have ever once possessed. "Fucking hell, it was a beautiful moment, you have to admit-"
"It was not a beautiful moment!" Frank protested: cheeks flushing pink, as his eyes darted frantically around their living room: desperate for something besides Gerard to fixate on, but by now it was evident that Gerard was the most important thing in the room, really in any room, Frank had figured, which, in hindsight, did sound a bit gay, but no homo, no homo. Frank, of course, only had platonic feelings for Gerard - everyone knew that. Well, apparently not Megan's family, but-
"It so was." Gerard insisted: cheeks as red as Frank's, and in truth, the both of them were overly giddy and all laughter and blushing, and that just may or may not have something to do with the bottle of wine that lay almost empty on the coffee table, because it was apparent that Gerard had the taste in alcohol of a thirty nine year suburban white mother of three, and also because he had insisted that they celebrated Frank surviving parents evening in one way or another.
"I know what a beautiful moment is." Frank's face gave way to a rather pouty frown as he pulled his knees up into the sofa and sat cross legged for a moment. "And it's not that." He concluded, flashing a glance up at Gerard, who seemed to have frozen in place just to look at Frank for a while.
"What's a beautiful moment then?" Gerard found himself daring to ask: movement coming back to his body slowly, with slight twitches of his fingers, and then his legs outstretched down the sofa, leaving his foot pressed against Frank's knee.
A smile fell over Frank's lips as his gaze followed Gerard's legs and all the way up to his face. Frank took a moment to think about the light in his eyes, and the pink undertones of his cheeks, and the way that he highly suspected that he wore mascara on a daily basis, but he'd never yet been able to prove it- or maybe Gerard did just have naturally long and black eyelashes. He thought about the way it didn't matter at all, and the way Gerard smiled, the way he held himself, the way he held his gaze, the way his hair was hardly styled, but instead just pushed back out of his face, and yet always managed to escape in front of his vision. Frank took another moment to realise that he'd been staring, and of course the connotations of that in regards to the question at hand.
Frank chose not to answer the question as he pulled his gaze away: cheeks pinker than ever before. Instead, he chose to address the question posed to him with another, because that was always the best way to avoid your problems, and it was okay, because they weren't drunk, just a little bit tipsy, little bit drunk. Just a little. Like how Frank wondered if he was just perhaps... just a little in love with Gerard. Just a little drunk, just a little in love. However, at the nature of such a conclusion, Frank began to wonder if he was just that little be more drunk than he had anticipated.
"Remember when you used to hate me." Frank let out a sigh, eyes locking with Gerard's. "You know, when we first met, and when I was- what even was I? The fucking stuck up English teacher and all that?"
A smile graced Gerard's lips and he found himself looking down. "I didn't hate you." His words were like a promise entwined with the gentle tapping of his fingertips against the side of his half empty wine glass. "Just found myself with a stubborn and uneducated dislike of the person I thought you might be."
"Mmm...?" Frank raised his eyebrows: utterly unconvinced. "That just sounds a lot like 'I hate you' in pretentious artist motherfucker language."
Gerard rolled his eyes, because in a way, Frank was right, but that wasn't what he'd meant at all. "I thought you were a pretentious english motherfucker. Like someone who stresses the importance of an oxford comma like it's a serious world issue."
Frank paused for a moment, "oxford commas are quite important, though."
"Oh my god!" Gerard fell back against the arm rest with a shriek of laughter. "You are a pretentious english motherfucker. It's a fucking comma."
"Gerard Arthur Way." Frank met his eyes with the deepest sincerity: sitting up a little and facing him properly. "If you say. I love prostitutes comma, my mother no comma and Megan Clifford." Frank had to question just what the fuck were the first three things that came to his mind in response to the statement 'I love'- well, truthfully, they were the first four, but 'I love Gerard' was something Frank just wasn't quite drunk enough for yet.
"Right..." Gerard's eyes widened significantly, but nodded for Frank to continue regardless.
"It sounds like you're calling my mother and Megan Clifford prostitutes, as it's like how you'd refer to them in a clause such as 'I met the prostitutes comma, my mother and Megan Clifford comma, and we- blah, blah, blah'. And as you can tell, it can cause confusion, therefore if you say 'I love prostitutes comma, my mother comma, and Megan Clifford,' it makes it clear that they're items in a list."
Gerard let out a sigh, taking a sip of his wine. "You're such a nerd." He looked up meeting Frank's eyes, and noting the red tone to his face. "I love it." And that had Frank grinning within seconds.
"Like you're not." Frank rolled his eyes, "I love nerds, Gerard Way no comma and-"
"Frank Iero." Gerard finished for him, laughing slightly. "What if Megan does become a prostitute, though?" He phrased it like a genuine question, which was really what had Frank with his eyes wide and in disbelief.
"What if." Frank repeated, shaking his head. "I think Ryan's more likely to be a prostitute, honestly. Or a drug dealer. Megan actually has potential in life, I think. She could write the new '50 Shades Of Grey' judging by the kind of shit she has submitted for English assignments."
"Has she ever wrote any porn about us?" Gerard asked: all too fucking casually.
"Excuse me?!" Frank shrieked: suddenly unnecessarily flustered, "I think I would- I-"
"Oh my god she has." Gerard let out a sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. "She so has."
"Okay fine. Maybe." Frank bit his lip, looking away.
"Why are you so embarrassed, did she say you had a tiny dick or something, or like gave you a weird kink or something-" Gerard took a moment to assess just what the fuck their current state of conversation even was, before deciding best to just disregard it.
"Gerard..." Frank let out a sigh. "Well, so Megan wrote this thing, and I read about four paragraphs, and like... there was this thing, and I was like that is not accurate, so we had a vote in class, and like literally ninety five percent of the class agreed with Megan and I just- I don't think that's accurate."
"You had a vote in class about the porn Megan wrote about you and me." Gerard summarised for him. "This is what you're getting paid to do."
"Yep." Frank nodded, looking oddly pleased with himself as he leaned back into the sofa. "That's what I'm getting paid to do."
"So..." Gerard continued, smirking, "what exactly was this key detail in Megan's... what is it..? Ferard-"
"Frerard." Frank corrected him. "Megan says Ferard is what the posers call it. You don't want to be a poser fan of a fictional relationship involving yourself and me, do you?"
"Course not." Gerard gave him a nod, "anyway, what was it that you didn't like in her frerard porn? Are you sure she didn't say you had a small dick or something?"
"It's..." Frank trailed off for a moment, "this is going to sound weird, like really weird, but if we hypothetically fucked, which one of us would be the one to hypothetically get fucked in the ass?"
Gerard's laughter was so violent that he nearly fell off the sofa. "You're pissed because you don't think-" Gerard let out a sigh as he got himself comfortable again. "Oh my god, what did she make you?"
"I'm not saying." Frank held his expression: stern and uncomfortable. "Tell me honestly what you think it'd be like. Hypothetically."
"Well... hypothetically..." Gerard's lips gave way to laughter, "I guess I don't know, so I guess we might have to find out." He held Frank's gaze for a moment, watching his eyes widen in disbelief, before bursting into another fit of laughter. "Hypothetically."
"Fuck you." Frank rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, that's not what you'd be doing." Gerard flashed him a smirk. "I'd say you'd bottom-"
"Ohmygod, not you as well, jesus fucking christ, what is it about me that just screams bottom to you? What is it about me that just screams bottom about me to ninety five percent of one of my classes?" Frank groaned, burying his head in his arms as Gerard continued to laugh.
"So you'd fuck me?" Gerard raised an eyebrow, catching Frank's gaze as he tentatively pulled his gaze up to meet his. "Would you?"
"Hypothetically." Frank let out a sigh, "do you really think me fucking you would be worse than you fucking me- are you criticising my dick or-"
"No." Gerard smiled, "I'm not criticising your dick. Not at all. I promise. I'm just- hypothetically, if it came down to it, I think I'd like to fuck you, just because I feel like you'd be this really whiny, loud bottom, like god, would you ever shut the fuck up, like you won't shut the fuck up about a fucking oxford comma, and I-... I guess I'd like that. Hypothetically."
"Oh my god I am so kinkshaming you!" Frank let out a screech, pointing at Gerard accusingly. "Oh my god-"
"Shut the fuck up." Gerard leaned back into the sofa, rolling his eyes and regretting his entire existence. "It's not like I bought a massive dildo, is it? Which really is what screams massive bottom with a size kink, isn't it?"
Frank decided not to respond to that. "I'm still kinkshaming you. I don't care if you're kinkshaming me, I will kinkshame you harder."
"I'm not kinkshaming you." Gerard hit him with a smirk, "I think hypothetically I wouldn't be at all opposed to the idea of you fucking yourself with a massive dildo-"
"Gerard!" Frank shrieked in horror, spilling wine all over himself, "why are you such a fuckboy?I hate you."
"You don't hate me." Gerard told him, sitting up and moving closer to Frank, and attempting to help clean up the wine, but failing spectacularly. "See, I'm a lovely person, why would you hate me at all, ever?"
"I think you're a dickhead." Frank told him, but didn't fail to lean into Gerard's side, and let his head rest against his shoulder. "You're the worst person in the world."
"Stop lying to yourself, Frankie." Gerard told him, reaching forward slightly to place his now empty wine glass back onto the coffee table.
"Stop being such a fuckboy." Frank's words were followed with silence, as Gerard found himself resisting the urge to ask the most fuckboy question there was, but of course, the question that was on everyone's minds.
"Do you still have the dildo?" Gerard found himself daring to ask, giving into the fuckboy inside of him... figuratively. Frank found himself shooting eye daggers in his direction.
"Fuck off."
"But do you?"
"Fuck off."
"Oh my god. You do!" Gerard shook his head in utter disbelief.
-
Frank really came to regret their choice of celebration come nine the following morning and the amount of classes he had to teach with a hangover. Well, teach was perhaps an overstatement, as all that Frank would be likely to do that day was apologise briefly and go to sleep on his desk, which he didn't doubt his students would particularly mind, of course. In fact, Frank decided to go even further and just start sleeping before his students even came in: putting his headphones in and writing a note that explained his situation on the whiteboard, before putting his head down and closing his eyes.
And really, Frank was having a fucking lovely time sleeping, and he even managed to get in a good solid twenty minutes before he woke up and practically had a heart attack because spotify played an advert and hearing about some dude yell about some random brand of beer really wasn't that calming at all.
As he pulled his headphones out, he found that half the class had actually just left, which was definitely not something he could possibly blame them for, seeing as his class wasn't exactly the most exciting and mentally stimulating thing ever. Amongst the students that remained, they were mostly just on their phones, although a small group had actually started playing cards against humanity in the corner and seemed to be yelling about something called 'matton', which had Frank greatly confused.
Frank wondered what the reaction would be if he just got up and left, like sure, he was kind of legally required to be there, and it was his job and all of that bullshit, but he could simply lie and say he was going to the toilet or something, when in all honesty- actually he didn't have any idea where he might be going. Which left him to his natural response, which was of course, questionable, but of course, Gerard.
He found himself pleasantly surprised in the fact that he wasn't at all questioned as he made his way out of his classroom and down towards the art department. In fact, he just stood outside Gerard's room for a good minute or so, just basking in the realisation of the fact that literally no one at this school could give less of shit. He also wondered if perhaps he should have gone to the nurse's office instead, considering that she might have actually been able to help him with the fucking lovely headache he had going on, but he figured that looking at Gerard practically had the same effect. Platonically, of course.
When he walked into the room, he found that Gerard was sat in his chair, having obtained a fucking blanket from somewhere and was curled up, likely browsing the internet on his laptop as the class appeared to just be doing some random painting or arty shit - Frank really didn't know much about the teaching of art, but that was okay, because it wasn't his subject after all. Admittedly, however, he didn't know much about the teaching of english, either, but there were definitely worse teachers than him, like at least he wasn't pedophile. Frank wasn't sure whether the fact that he wasn't pedophile being the best thing going for him really was a good stage of his life to be in, but quite honestly, he couldn't care as he made his way over to Gerard, flashing him a grin from behind his laptop.
"Aren't you supposed to be teaching?" Gerard threw him a smirk, leaning back in his chair in order to look up at Frank. He suspected that several of his students had noticed Frank's presence and were likely wildly gossiping about it, but he could honestly not give less of a shit.
"Aren't you?" Frank threw him one right back: pulling his laptop screen down so he could see, and confirm that Gerard was actually just watching videos of cats on youtube. "Cat videos, honestly?"
"At least I'm in my classroom." Gerard retorted, seeming to have woken up considerably at the sight of Frank. "And what were you even doing when you were actually in yours? I don't imagine that it was teaching, you know?"
"I was sleeping." Frank admitted, "head down, note on the board when they walk in. Half the class just left, so I mean, what was the point in me being there?"
"Of course." Gerard rolled his eyes, "I think maybe we should wait for Friday for alcoholic based celebrations, don't you?"
"Yeah," Frank gave a nod, glancing across Gerard's classroom and noticing Megan and Ryan in the corner. "Ryan... doesn't take art, does he?" He asked, pointing Ryan out to Gerard.
"No." Gerard gave a nod, eyes wide, "you're right. He does not. That was a very correct observation."
Frank rolled his eyes, "so you're not going to kick him out even though he's not in your class?"
"You're not in my class, should I kick you out?" Gerard countered, and of course, Frank gave a shake of his head, pulling up a chair and sitting down beside Gerard. "Let's pretend I'd noticed before now, but like come on, it's better than him setting some part of the building on fire, isn't it? And he even appears to be helping Megan with her- no that's not her work... I think that's..."
"A picture of Mr Urie." Frank confirmed for him. "You can tell by the forehead." Gerard put his head in his hands and let out a groan. "You're not seriously annoyed by this wonderful work of art, are you?"
Gerard shook his head, "it's just that he's using the good quality paper."
"Ohmygod." Frank shook his head in disbelief, "you're such a fucking paper nerd-"
"Excuse me, I'm not being a paper nerd, that's fucking watercolour paper that shit is fucking expensive." And well, Gerard did kind of have a point.
-
Ryan had to admit that he was still largely astounded as to just how the fuck Brendon had managed to convince his mother that he was actually a qualified and responsible headteacher, and that letting Ryan stay behind to have 'private tutoring' with him would be a perfectly fine and acceptable idea. Of course, he wasn't in the least bit complaining as he found himself kneeling on the floor of Mr Urie's office, receiving a great amount of education as he proceeded to suck his dick.
You had to admit, however, that Ryan was some form of dick sucking supreme so this was surely just him showing Brendon how it was done, and that this was indeed a perfectly healthy display of educating and learning, which was of course the entire basis of Ryan and Brendon's 'relationship', after all.
Ryan did wonder just what his mum would say if she could see him now, sucking his headteacher's dick and doing an absolutely fucking brilliant job of it. He hoped that she would be proud of him and accept his talents as a dick sucker, because Ryan knew that if all else failed, he'd make an alright hooker, and that was the kind of security he needed to keep in his mind.
They remained half naked in Brendon's locked office, blinds down of course, for quite a while after all questionable acts had come to an end. Ryan was sat cross legged on the floor, with his shirt thrown next to him: his gaze fixated upon his cellphone as he found himself furiously texting Megan and trying his best to talk her out of impulse buying four guinea pigs from the pet store, which was something that he had to do more than he expected now that he thought about it.
As Ryan sat there texting, Brendon, who was actually only in his boxers, sat in his office chair, spinning around absent mindedly and contemplated the absolute shining example of high school education that he was representing in that moment. He took another moment to realise that to some degree he was getting paid to fuck Ryan, which to some degree, made him some form of prostitute, which succeeded in putting a grin upon his face, as he leaned back in his chair and came to accept his achievement of one of his long term goals.
Brendon found himself wondering if he should actually attempt to teach Ryan something, because as much as he just wanted to fuck him, he didn't want him to fail either, and Mrs Ross- Susan might notice that something was off if Ryan didn't actually retain any extra knowledge despite all the time he'd spent being tutored, because truthfully, Ryan was a good kid, and he had potential, even if he was choosing to express such potential through the means of seducing his headteacher and entering what was easily one of the world's weirdest relationships.
Brendon looked at his boxers, at the outline of his dick particularly and let out a sigh. Ryan looked up, as it had been quite the loud sigh, and then of course, the fact that it was let it out as he stared at his cock did immediately have Ryan's attention. "Ryan, do you think my dick is too small?" Brendon looked at the seventeen year old with wide, oddly sad eyes, and a very sincere tone of voice.
Ryan took a moment to compose himself to ensure that he didn't laugh, because as amusing as the situation was, laughing really just wouldn't be appropriate in this situation. He did however put his cellphone down, leaving Megan's latest text message ignored and hoping that the amount of guinea pigs purchased remained minimal, but he had higher priorities than Megan's lack of self control in pet stores when Brendon Urie was feeling self conscious about his dick.
"Brendon," Ryan let out a sigh and came and sat on his lap, which was simultaneously the best and the worst thing that had ever happened to Brendon Urie. "Brendon," he repeated, looking into his eyes, now just centimetres away from his face, as he found himself brushing hair from the older man's face. "Your dick is fine."
Brendon let out another sigh, "it's not- it's not that, I mean- it's not a bad dick." He paused, "it's just, Ryan you're seventeen, and your dick is so much bigger than mine, like your dick might still grow and I-"
"Brendon you can't compare your dick to my dick." Ryan gave him a smile, "we're all different, it's like you getting pissed because the diameter of my arm is greater than yours or whatever the fuck. Personally, I think you have a beautiful dick."
"Yeah, but it's like," Brendon shook his head, "dicks. I want a big dick. It's natural. It's all I've ever wanted and-"
"And so you became one to compensate?" Ryan asked, raising an eyebrow. Mr Urie just glared for a moment before leaning in and kissing him.
"Aren't I such a dick? Kissing you like this, and being a wonderful boyfriend literally breaking several laws just to benefit you personally on a daily basis?" Brendon's face relaxed into a smile as they finally pulled away. "You know, I really should actually try to teach you something-"
"What? Like teaching me about your childhood dreams of having a massive cock?" Ryan looked skeptical, "have you ever actually taught a class in your life?"
"Excuse me." Mr Urie raised his eyebrows. "Of course I have."
"Okay," Ryan flashed him a smile, "so what did you teach? You know, before you were a headteacher, what was your subject?"
"I did music and drama." Brendon replied, avoiding the skepticism held sternly in Ryan's gaze, "which are two very academic and knowledge based subjects."
"Okay." Ryan got up from Mr Urie's lap, which was actually the worst thing that had happened to Brendon since that time Ryan had sat fire to that maths classroom and he'd had to go outside in the cold for that fire assembly. Like seriously, it was some traumatic stuff.
"Don't 'okay' me, Ryan." Brendon retorted, looking personally offended, "this isn't the fault in our stars. I know my love life is shitty but we're not getting to the level of a John Green book, okay- god fucking damn it. Isn't 'maybe okay will be our always' literally the worst line ever written like, I'm not an English teacher, but how the fuck is that a poetic thing? Anyway, this isn't the fault in our stars. I'm not dying, you're not getting cancer, none of that bullshit-"
"What about Paper Towns?" Ryan asked, pouting slightly and running a finger over his eyebrows. "I think I've got those Cara Delevingne brows, don't you think? I'd make a good Margo-"
"Ryan." Brendon let out a sigh, "why are you such a John Green stan? I thought better of you-"
"Why are you literally sat in your boxers in your office after fucking a student?" Ryan countered, before going over to check his phone and the current guinea pig situation. "I thought better of you," he added, before looking down and finding that Megan had sent him a picture of two guinea pigs with the caption 'Guinea Jahmed', followed by about four hundred and twenty seven heart emojis, and then about sixty six thousand ok hand sign emojis.
"What is it?" Brendon asked, noticing Ryan's sudden change in expression.
"Well..." Ryan began, "I.. I told Megan that there were two people in the Smiths called Jack Smith and Ahmed Smith- don't ask. There's also a Michael Smith and a Gavin Smith, anyway, sometimes when I'm not there to stop Megan, she goes into pet stores, and then when she goes into pet stores... well she gets emotionally and rationally weak around small fluffy animals, and since I was busy reassuring you about the size of your dick, I wasn't there to stop Megan impulse buying two guinea pigs and naming them after these imaginary guys called Jack and Ahmed who she is convinced are in the Smiths." Ryan held up his phone so Brendon could look at the photo of Guinea Jahmed.
"They're pretty cute guinea pigs." Brendon's face fell into a smile. "I wouldn't call this a bad decision at all."
"Course you wouldn't." Ryan rolled his eyes as he copy and pasted all the emojis Megan had sent him and sent them back to her in the form of his sole response; he did this regularly - she was yet to notice. "I also told her that Jack and Ahmed were gay, and that they're called Jahmed, so that's basically one of her major OTPs and not only is it not actually real, the people in it don't exist at all either. Neither do the other members of the Smiths - Michael Smith and Gavin Smith-
"No, wait," Brendon interrupted him, eyes wide as he attempted to recall something, "isn't there a kid called Michael Smith? At this school. Really annoying fucking kid, I think once he was in the nurse's office when I was in there because I had a hangover and he kept looking at me all funny, it's like fuck you Michael, at least I don't have to sit through geography on a regular basis."
"I have no idea who that is." Ryan admitted, which totally didn't have anything to do with the fact that he was far too caught up in his own ego to notice anyone else... totally.
"Neither do I, honestly." Mr Urie found himself admitting, "honestly, I don't actually know who the fuck a lot of the students who go here are."
"Maybe if you actually did something you would. You know, I'd like to see you as a drama teacher, Mr Urie." A smirk fell over Ryan's lips.
"Ryan, I am not teaching classes again, you do not-"
"I'm not saying teaching classes. I just think... that a school play would really improve the school and bring us all together under the wonderful canopy of music and drama, and of course dance, at Bertfield High School. And I really do think that'd help you to get to know the kids more."
Mr Urie instantaneously shook his head, "we are not doing some fucking High School Musical shit, because it's either that or it's like fucking Romeo and Juliet, and both are horrible. Like what the fuck is relatable about that? No one would actually want to be in those plays. Like if we were going to do a play it'd at least have to be one that most kids would actually know and like and want to be in."
Ryan had never looked more smug. "Don't worry, I have the perfect idea." Mr Urie's eyes widened in a mix of horror and intrigue. "The Fault In Our Stars by John Green. Adapted into a play by Brendon Urie. Now how does that sound?"
"Ryan are you-"
"It's perfect, we've got tragedy, we've got romance, we've got comedy-"
"Who the fuck is going to want to play that absolute dickhead of a character Augustus Waters?" Brendon found himself asking the real questions here.
"I will." Ryan flashed him a smile. "I'm being serious. I will make a fucking kickass Augustus and you get to look really good and professional because you got bad kid Ryan Ross who never turns up or participates to be one of the lead roles in your play, and I mean, you run this school, no one's going to tell you no, are they? Also it's a perfect excuse to not even pretend to have to do work, like you get to laugh at the shit kids who think they can act coming and auditioning, like-"
"Ryan, I..." Brendon stood up, still practically naked, "do not dare quote me on this, but I think that you might actually be a genius. This can be like my fuck you to John Green, because we all know, I will make a much better play of this than the book ever was, and you will be the most miraculous and handsome dickhead that Augustus Waters could ever be."
Ryan grinned: as someone who main motivation was chaos and making people doing stupid shit he was having a fucking field day. Everything was good in the world: Megan Clifford thought that the Smiths were comprised of Michael Smith, Gavin Smith, Jack Smith, and Ahmed Smith, and had gone and bought two guinea pigs which she'd named after Jack and Ahmed, and he'd convinced Mr Urie to do a school play based on The Fault In Our Stars, which would absolutely get him out of so many classes by due to the vigorous rehearsals they would of course require for such an eloquent, abstract, and beautiful play.
In short, Ryan just wanted to watch the world burn: sometimes literally, sometimes figuratively, and of course, look at Mr Urie's ass as he did so.
-
honestly the shit i have planned for the next few chapters no one is fucking ready
vote and comment if u enjoyed
love u guys lots :)