gala_apples

Title: Get Down With The Sickness
Pairing: Frank/Jamia/Gerard. A brief mention of Mikey/Alicia/Pete, and insinuations of Gerard/Lindsey/Mikey.
Rating: nc17
Wordcount: 3296
Summary: In hindsight, no one is really surprised when the band's exposure to The Sickness starts with Frank. He’s always the sick one, and they’re always trying to make him feel better.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Author's Notes: Sorry it's late. But it's also the longest of the ones I've written, so it evens out? This is mostly canonical, with a few changes like a tour break I don't think they actually had, and Frank not quitting Skeleton Crew yet. You said you didn't mind a little fudging.


It’s at a meet and greet before their last show that a fan sneezes on Frank. It’s disgusting, but he’s had worse. More than once. Between his babies, and his dogs, and alcoholic Gerard, and occasional food poisoning, Frank has seen dozens of worse bodily substance events. At least this girl is repentant. She apologises about a million times for it. It’s hard to stay mad.

Frank hopes he’s not going to get sick from it, but it’s not the worst timing if he does. He’ll be at home. That means the brand of Kleenex that he thinks is the softest, which the rest of the band mistakenly disagrees with. That means fresh blankets that are washed with his own detergent, not the five am roadie run to the laundromat brand. That means being able to throw his sweater in the dryer for five minutes if he’s chilled and wants toasted clothes. Besides, it’s hard to feel shitty when he’s got his babies and his lady in his arms.

He’s got a to-do list for getting home. It looked much different when he was living alone, changed with marriage, changed with all his best friends moving away to only sometimes crash in the spare, and it’s different again with children. But at the end of the night, no matter how full the house is, he still wants Jamia in his arms.

The first night back, they really don’t have much alone time. He still gets Jamia and Lily and Cherry, but it’s with Mr and Mrs Way, and his mom and dad and grandpa, and Jamia’s family, and Gerard and Lindsey and Bandit. It’s not often that Gerard and Lindsey come to Jersey. With all the studio shit out in LA it’s much more often Frank’s going out there. But everyone knows there’s a sacred relationship between grandmother and grandchild. Mrs Way- even after nine years he can’t call her Donna, his mom would beat him- and Bandit have a bond. So Lindsey’s been in Jersey for a few days with Bandit, and when he and Gerard fly home, they have a party.

In his absence, Jamia’s been juggling the kids and their company. Frank’s pretty sure he’s going to resign, life is way too busy to be doing this much longer. Convincing Jamia they’re too busy for this is on his current mental to do list. When she finally gets a two second break from Skeleton Crew she’s exhausted. An orgasm will be that final push into a perfect sleep, and Frank wants to push.

Except it feels wrong. It’s so dissatisfying that he can’t even come. Jamia seems to share the same feeling. She’s normally good for at least three orgasms, and she hasn’t had one. Frank would write it off as bad timing, but there’s still a current of want in them both. It’s just not wanting this. And as he’s lying there sweaty and unhappy, a poor combination, it occurs to him. Something snaps in his brain, and he knows exactly what he -they- need. He gets up and gets dressed, barely remembering to tell her he’ll be back soon before he leaves.

Gerard answers the door. It’s a little after midnight, and he’s still fully dressed, smudges of poorly washed off paint on his hands, even though all the windows show there are no lights on in the house. If Frank could think, he’d probably think something about that. But he can’t think, all he knows is Gerard’s who they need. He’s sure of it.

He doesn’t even go in the house, to explain. Frank just takes a step so he’s leaning over the threshold and kisses the shit out of Gerard. It’s been a while, and now it has a different motivation than it used to. Gerard’s technique is still the same as it was three years ago, and the scattering of times before that. It’s possibly his favourite, not that he would ever say that to anyone else.

“Me and Jamia need your help.”

“What kind of help?”

“Please!” He’s holding on to Gerard by the ass. He doesn’t remember grabbing him, but now that he is he can’t let go. When Gerard turns to head back to tell Lindsey Frank can’t stop himself from clinging harder. The smallest part of his brain is pointing out it’s probably bruising levels of pressure, but the other ninety nine percent is occupied with making sure Gerard doesn’t leave him.

“Okay, fine.”

Gerard stops trying to move away from him. Instead he pulls his cell out of his hoodie pocket and calls her. Deeper inside the house he can hear the phone ring. He explains Frank needs him for a bit and they leave.

“This is that joke medical hoax online, isn’t it?” Gerard asks, clicking his seat belt closed as he settles into the passenger seat.

“What joke?”

He doesn’t really listen to the answer, not that Gerard gives him much of one. Gerard pretty much goes quiet after Frank unzips his pants at a light and tries to give him a handjob, not just because he twists to start sucking a bruise onto Frank’s neck. But that doesn’t feel right either. It’s as wrong as being with just his wife. He needs Gerard and Jamia, he can’t feel better without them both.

Before they get home Gerard pulls out his phone a second time. He tells Lindsey they need to eat the ticket costs and book a flight back home for tomorrow. Frank’s not sure why, but he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t want an answer. All he wants is Gerard and Jamia in him and on him and surrounding him. He needs both of them with him, and he knows Jamia needs it too.

He wants to taste them both at the same time. His mind fills with images of licking at Gerard as he’s fucking Jamia, but he’s not sure if that’s actually possible. Maybe if he laid on his back and she rode him.

Finally back in the driveway he doesn’t bother to lock the car, just runs inside. His hand is clenched around Gerard’s thin wrist, pulling him behind him, but it’s not enough. He wants to be naked, he wants to be pressing Jamia’s wrists to the mattress, he wants to lick the loose curve of Gerard’s neck. He wants everything so bad he aches with it.

There’s a split second when Gerard freezes in the door frame. It doesn’t make sense to Frank, Jamia’s not being still at all. In fact, she rises to her knees on the king sized bed, breasts swinging beautifully, and grabs Gerard by the hand Frank doesn’t have clutched. He surrenders and lets her yank hard so Gerard stumbles half on to the bed. And maybe that’s Gerard surrendering too, because he doesn’t ask anything dumb like if they’re sure.

Jamia gets Gerard undressed as Frank does the same for himself as quick as he can. Gerard’s not quite naked when he’s done -probably because Gerard was wearing more than boxers and a ratty shirt- but it’s fine. It gives Frank time to get the bottle of lube from their toy drawer, the top drawer of the dresser. He knows what he wants and he knows Jamia will be happy to watch. She likes gay porn more than she likes straight.

Almost everything is better when Gerard gets that first finger into him. The room sighs in unison; Gerard lower and Jamia higher than his own register. Gerard doesn’t stop, barely pauses, and Frank would tell him it’s not like fingering a girl, except he wants it all. He would take Gerard’s hand if Gerard tried it.

When Gerard finally removes his fingers and pushes his cock in Frank exhales hard, hard enough to spray the pillow with a light mist. On his side he can see Jamia sitting at the edge of the bed against the low footboard, beautifully naked with her hand between her legs. Her knee is against his shin, her free hand curled around Gerard’s ankle, not trying to hold him down, just clinging.

Frank’s mouth stays open as Gerard fucks him. He can feel the wet spot growing bigger as he pants and clenches his fists, but he can’t seem to stop drooling. He can’t possibly close his mouth. The longer Gerard goes, the less certain he is that he can control anything his body does. He doesn’t even want to regain control. Who would want coherency when they could be fucked in the ass by someone they love but never thought they could have?

It’s the feel of Jamia kneeing him hard, the sound of her wail as she comes the first time that refocuses him. “Okay, stop stop stop!” he demands as he wriggles himself off Gerard’s cock. He licks his lips as he sits, trying to suck in his saliva. It might be embarrassing, except he can’t feel like that right now.

“What? Yeah, no, okay. But why?”

Frank would have thought it would be obvious. “I don’t want to come yet.”

“What do you want to do then?” Gerard’s hand is curled around his dick, probably trying to stop the lube from getting cold in the air of the room. Frank wants to lick around his fingers, knows how dirty that is and wants to do it anyway.

“Fuck me, Gerard.”

“Yeah?” Gerard looks at him.

“Go for it.” Gerard should be looking at her for confirmation. He doesn’t own her.

They all realise the problem approximately one minute later, when Frank can’t find any condoms in the toys drawer. It makes sense, they haven’t needed condoms in a while. There are two options Frank can see; Jamia can not fuck Gerard, or they can get more condoms. The first is obviously easier, but it’s not fair to her.

It doesn’t take much discussion to decide Gerard has to leave and drive to the nearest store. Now he’s the one not fully dressed when he runs out the front door, just jeans and the hoodie, with underwear, socks and his t-shirt still on the carpet. Each minute he’s gone Frank curls tighter into Jamia, and Jamia curls into him. Each minute it feels worse. Not just anticipation, but actual physical pain.

By the time he’s back Frank’s half out of his mind. They both stand and rush out of the bedroom down the hall, still trying to be as quiet as they can. If the twins wake up now, he just might collapse into a tantrum on the floor.

Gerard doesn’t need much encouragement to rip his clothes off, pulling the four pack out of his pocket as he strips. He fumbles for a moment before getting it open and on. Frank throws himself against the sculpted iron headboard, not caring when the metal rose digs into his spine. Jamia nestles between his spread legs in a way that puts delicious pressure on his erection without it being enough to get him off prematurely. Gerard kneels between Jamia’s. He leans in for a second to kiss them both in turn -fuck, Frank loves Gerard’s biting kisses- and then pulls Jamia by the knee closer to him so he has a better angle. Frank’s got a hand in Gerard’s hair, the other on his wife’s breast. He can’t remember ever being happier.

Gerard comes when he’s inside Jamia, Frank can tell by the way he tosses his head, not caring that Frank’s grip wrenches his hair. He doesn’t pull out immediately, instead coaxing Jamia into her second orgasm as he sucks on her neck. Frank thinks about the way Jamia’s juices must be dripping down his best friend’s softening cock and shudders, dick giving an interested twitch.

“I need to eat out Jamia.”

“Go ahead. She’s your wife.”

“I need you to touch me while I’m doing it.” Everything hurts when they’re not both touching him, like someone has poured rat poison on his bones and stitched his skin on over top.

Gerard pulls out of Jamia, giving her neck one final hickey before he moves to the end of the bed. Jamia whimpers and reaches for him. “You need to touch both of us. Please. It’s hurting.”

It’s a bit of a mess rearranging, but sooner rather than later they’re sorted out, and Frank has his face where he most wants it. He holds her open and licks once, then pants. He has to. She likes the way it feels, it makes her writhe, but it’s not for her. It’s for him, to give himself a chance to breathe. She just tastes so good, so fucking good he could come without touching himself.

And he does. It doesn’t really count, because Jamia’s thighs are pinning his ears, and Gerard’s fingers are running the length between his asshole and balls, occasionally pressing down when Frank’s least expecting it. He’s not touching himself but they are, and it’s all he could ever want, and of course he comes, groaning as her liquids flood his face.

He moves, just a bit, enough to rest his head on her belly. He’s all fucked out, though he’s not yawning like Jamia is.

“Okay. Wow. So that was interesting.”

Frank grabs for the blanket, suddenly shy like he wasn’t a half hour ago. It’s impossible to budge with both of them sprawled on it. He loves his wife, but she’s prone to understating things. “That was more than interesting. Um. Holy shit. I’m sorry, I guess? I don’t know why I needed it so bad.”

Gerard shrugs. “It’s because you’re sick. Ray emailed me this stupid thing about a threesome virus going around.”

“I have a threesome virus?” Frank’s had some pretty fucked illnesses before, but none compare to this.

“Not anymore.”

“What?”

“It’s kind of like an old school email forward. It goes away if you pass it on. So Jamia and I will have to have sex with people to get better, but you’re fine now.”

“Are you serious?”

Gerard shrugs again. “It’s not on television news yet, but there’s a bunch of different blogs talking about it. Ray thought it was a joke, you know, like people blogging about 'them being outside' on national zombie day. I guess it’s not a joke.”

Just as Frank starts worrying about what comes next -he was never good at the morning after- Jamia speaks up. “I’m about thirty seconds from passing out. Get off my blankets, if you’re not gonna sleep.”

“I’m gonna sleep at home, so-” he leans in and gives Jamia a kiss. Not like before, just a sweet side of the cheek grandma approved kiss. Frank follows him to the front door, stopping for a second to bend and pick up his socks. They’re more hole than fabric, and Frank smirks for a second as memories of Bob bitching at Gerard about his shitty socks run through his head.

“So, uh-” he doesn’t know how to finish that. Doesn’t know if he’s allowed to give Gerard a hug goodbye, after what’s happened.

“Don’t get all thinky Frank. I’m gonna go have another threesome, then Lindsey will have to have one. Jamia will have to. You know how colds work, and colds are spotty. From what I’ve read anyone that’s exposed gets it. So, like, half the country is gonna be having a threesome in the next few weeks. Just let it go.”

Frank’s not sure it’ll be so easy, but he does hug Gerard before he locks the door behind him.

Frank doesn’t ask Jamia where she’s going when she leaves after feeding the kids breakfast with him. He knows himself. If it could be anyone, he’ll start off being suspicious of everyone, but then he’ll feel dumb about being so suspicious and that part will settle down. If he knows he’ll just get pissed off and never talk to the couple again. It’s irrational, not to mention not fair, but it’s still true.

He does keep CNN on low volume all day, so he can find out the exact minute the producer decides something everyone already knows is breaking news. The breaking news reporter crashes in in the middle of the afternoon, billing it as the CDC coming on to discuss strategies for a new and strange brain altering disease. Frank makes sure Lily isn’t hitting Cherry and turns the volume up a few notches, scowling at the mandatory commercial break.

The representative does nothing of the sort. There are no strategies aside from not kissing anyone. It spreads through saliva, the contagion being immediate and unavoidable. Once it’s been successfully transmitted, the infected is forced to seek out their most desirable partners. Upon hearing that Gerard makes all the sense in the world. He’s thought about it, before. He never expected to experience it.

Of course, there seems to be a lot of that going around.

A day later he gets a text from Mikey saying dont go on twitter.

Frank wasn’t planning on it. He really has to be in a certain mood for using the site. Still, he texts back asking why.

Three come rapid-fire. The first is cuz you talk to fans on it, the second is fans will want to know about this, and the third is a link, which Frank immediately opens. It’s Youtube, not their official band channel, or one of their pseudonym accounts where they can subscribe to Epic Meal Time and other funny gross stuff that the fans would roll their eyes at. It’s a random account, a video that’s obviously been ripped and re-uploaded. And if one person has, that means hundreds of people will have it saved already. Their fans pass around links like wildfire.

The video is shitty, poorly lit and shot with a cellphone made worse by being downloaded in a low quality format then upped the same way. Still it’s easy for Frank to see what it is, and when he thumbs down to see the comments, everyone else seems to agree. It’s Mikey and Pete and Alicia kissing messily; first a three-way kiss, then each pairing in turn.

Frank decides it’s best to ignore that Mikey has the same pattern of hickeys that he and Jamia have. If they’re not freaked about it, why does he have the right to be? It would matter if that too had gotten filmed, but this way it’s just a suspicion of his, and he has information the fans don’t. It’s gonna be okay. It’ll be a secret, rather than a public relations nightmare. He’ll never ask, and Gerard and Lindsey and Mikey will never be given the opportunity to confirm or deny. It’ll be fine.

Pete’s twitter is going to be way worse than his, Frank knows that much. Frank will just ignore his account for a few months, but Pete seems incapable of that. Pete’s fans practically demand a personal relationship, it’s what he gets by being online every day. Every person that’s ever listened to Fall Out Boy will have thoughts. There will probably be gifs on Tumblr. And they’ll all be asking the same thing Frank’s wondering; who he and Ashlee will pick as their third. Perez Hilton will probably tell him before Pete does, it’s not like they’re close friends.

Bottom line though, is that Frank’s got enough shit on his plate as it is. Worrying about Pete Wentz, King of Drama, will only make things exponentially harder. So he texts Mikey back wow. yeah no twitter and starts gathering the bibs for another load of food and spit covered laundry. Worldwide freaky contagious threesomes or not, Frank’s got babies and dogs and a wife to be with.