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A lot of people are kind of intimidated by Grant when they first join the faculty. He's noted for his work, and, apparently, a shaved head and a sharp suit make him even more imposing. But the new assistant professor - Frank Iero, he remembers from the English faculty luncheon earlier that week - is not, and it's Grant's own fault. He overhears Grant talking to a student the very first day of classes; it's one of his favorites, a sweet girl who's painfully shy in class but really intelligent, and Grant can't help but to be encouraging.

He sees Professor Iero watching from the doorway of the department office, lips curled up in a half-smile, and Grant chuckles and says, "My mysterious and intimidating genius persona isn't going to stand a chance now, is it?"

"I read a transcript of your keynote speech at the annual dinner in the CPR journal last spring, so I know what 'genius' means to you."

Grant barks out a laugh. This one has such a dry tone, it's hard to even tell if he meant it as a smart remark. But Grant thinks he did. He's immediately fascinated, and he replies, "You actually read that? That was such bullshit."

Professor Iero bites his lower lip for a moment and looks Grant up and down, then replies, "Maybe. But I think you want everyone to believe you believe it. And I just spent five years at Cambridge, so I'll give you the 'mysterious' bit, but you just shot yourself in the foot with the 'persona' part."

Grant eyes him for a moment. He knows how certain academic circles see him. He thinks it's pretty hilarious, but it suits his purposes a lot of the time, too. "Well, you may as well come have coffee with Gerard and me in my office if you refuse to be intimidated by me, Frank." And he winks. "May I call you Frank? You may as well call me Grant after dissecting that entire statement."

Frank blinks. And looks at his watch. "I suppose I have time before my office hours. Grant," he says very seriously. And smiles. He has a gorgeous smile.

Grant is not entirely sure what to do with this tiny, bespectacled creature. He's definitely considering Frank's dubiousness a challenge, especially since it seems to be matched by a certain amount of good-natured wit. Also, to be honest, he's dying to see what Gerard thinks of him. He's pretty sure he can guess.

Frank follows Grant to his office and Gerard is already there scribbling in a notebook. When he doesn't have the pen in his mouth, that is.

"About time," Gerard mumbles. "Oh, you brought someone. Who's this?" He looks Frank up and down with interest. So predictable.

"Gerard Way, art department," Grant tells Frank, because clearly someone has to observe social niceties and it's usually not Gerard. "This is Professor Iero. He's new to the department," Grant says to Gerard.

"And he didn't scurry away from you with his tail between his legs before you could drag him here? Grant, your reputation is suffering," Gerard says seriously. And then cracks up.

"I suspect Professor Iero is made of sterner stuff," Grant drawls. "He came here from Cambridge. Nothing to fear from the likes of me. Don't you scare him away with your artistic degradation."

Frank blushes a little and it's fucking cute. Oh, Grant likes this one. He's a delightful blend of confident and bashful. He looks at Gerard who is still looking at Frank. Clearly admiring him... aesthetically. He even clears his mess of notebooks off of Grant's threadbare office couch and insists Frank sit next to him. Grant refrains from rolling his eyes and makes coffee; he sits at his desk and joins Gerard in their typical afternoon gossip session. Frank clearly hasn't quite decided what to make of them, but he is indeed quick-witted and friendly enough.

Grant waits until he leaves, at least, to tease Gerard, "Looks to me like you've found this semester's conquest. Honestly, Gerard, I don't think that is what the university had in mind as peer mentoring."

Gerard smirks. "Maybe if more new professors were getting laid regularly, they'd be less uptight."

"You're so public-spirited. What's your schedule like today, Gerard? Are we going out tonight?"

"We are if you don't mind Mikey joining. He's spending the weekend with me," Gerard replies.

"I never mind Mikey," Grant says. "I have a meeting too, Professor Way. You may stay here as long as you like, though." He tangles his fingers in Gerard's disordered hair and gives it a gentle tug.

"Enjoy," Gerard says. "I'll probably stay until office hours. One of the other professors in my wing has terrible taste in music and is inflicting it on the rest of us. I expect better from artists."

"Haven't you learned yet?" Grant laughs and picks up his satchel. He really is always happy to see Gerard's brother. He'd been idly hoping for more of a tete-a-tete tonight, but Gerard's unpredictable. So is Mikey for that matter. Every once in a while he'll disappear while he's visiting and Gerard receives a text message that makes him roll his eyes.

Grant sees Frank once more late that afternoon, sitting out on the quad with a notebook and a pair of headphones. He barely looks any older than the undergrads, though Grant knows he must be nearly thirty. He has the feeling that Frank Iero is going to make things very interesting this year. At least the most interesting since Gerard's first year teaching. Perhaps more so.

When he arrives at their favorite pub that night, he slides into the booth next to Gerard and greets Mikey. His first question for Gerard is, "Is it really four years you've been teaching here now?"

Gerard laughs. "Starting on number five. Freshmen I taught and advised started graduating last spring. It's fucking weird."

"Doesn't feel like four years," Grant muses.

"Just picture all the hours you've listened to him complain about paperwork," Mikey suggests.

"Innumerable," Grant says. "I can't really count that, as he has listened to me complain nearly as much."

Mikey looks dubious. Grant laughs and orders a round, then another.

Grant laughs out loud when Mikey disappears about an hour later and Gerard gets a text. He really wants to know when Mikey will fess up to whatever - or whoever - he's really doing on campus.

"What?" Gerard asks.

"Nothing much. It's getting crowded in here and the music has turned for the worse. Fancy a nightcap back at mine?" Grant asks. He literally lives down the block, another reason this is his favorite pub.

"I'd love a nightcap," Gerard replies. "Mikey won't turn up until morning, probably."

They settle the tab and walk to Grant's place chatting amiably about how the first few days of classes have gone.

They take the elevator up to Grant's floor. Grant holds open the door for him, but only so wide, forcing Gerard to brush against him. Gerard shoots him a look that says, So it's like that tonight.

"Care for a drink, pet?" Grant asks him, crossing to the kitchen and holding up a bottle of absinthe.

"Please," Gerard replies and sits in the stool next to the counter. Grant knows Gerard doesn't particularly care for the flavor of absinthe, but he absolutely loves the ritual of it, loves watching Grant prepare it.

Grant gets out his kit, places the spoons over the glasses and sugar cubes on top of the spoons. He sets the glasses underneath the absinthe fountain and sets the water trickling over the sugar and down into the absinthe. And then he turns his attention to Gerard and watches his fascination as the louche starts to bloom.

"What shall we toast to?" Grant asks when the drinks are ready.

"New beginnings," Gerard says promptly. Gerard lifts his glass and Grant clinks his against it. It feels like a promise, all of a sudden. They go to take sips and Grant pauses just so he can watch Gerard pretend not to grimace.

"Come on," he says, closing his fingers around Gerard's elbow and tugging. "Come sit with me." He leads Gerard over to the living room sofa.

He pulls Gerard down next to him and wraps an arm around his shoulders. Gerard settles against his side with a contented sigh. They don't indulge in this sort of closeness very often, but it's Friday at the end of the first week of classes and Grant hadn't seen Gerard for a month before Monday.

Grant picks up the remote that controls his sound system and starts some music playing. Quiet, nothing to distract. They sip their drinks and after their earlier time at the pub, the absinthe makes its presence known quickly. Grant swirls his glass gently in one hand, strokes fingertips through Gerard's hair with the other. "I rather miss you when I don't see you," he murmurs quietly.

"Yeah," is all Gerard says; he rubs his cheek against Grant's chest.

"Keep nuzzling me like that and you won't be missing me at all," Grant warns him gently. They always give each other an out.

Gerard looks up into Grant's eyes under his lashes and then rubs his cheek deliberately over Grant's chest. Grant tightens his fingers in Gerard's hair and tips his face up. He leans in and presses his lips against Gerard's. Gerard makes a tiny noise in his throat and tangles their tongues together right away. The first few times they did this, it had been after sharing a bowl or a few pieces of hash. These days, when they indulge in absinthe, he tastes like licorice instead.

Grant's favorites are still the one or two times they'd been completely sober and Gerard had tasted of nothing more than himself. Sometimes he wonders why they haven't ever really taken it any further, but mostly he just wants to enjoy Gerard when he can.

Gerard pulls back and drains the remainder of his glass. He swings himself around to straddle Grant's lap. "Hello," he purrs as Grant's hands settle low on his hips. "It's been a long summer. Very long. It's so boring when you go back to Scotland," Gerard murmurs directly into Grant's ear, then sucks the lobe into his mouth.

"That sad tale would be sadder if I didn't know you're quite good at entertaining yourself," Grant murmurs back, sucking in a breath as Gerard nips at his jaw and starts his hips flexing.

"But I like it best when you're here to help keep me entertained," Gerard says and kisses his way back to Grant's lips. Grant sticks one hand up the back of Gerard's shirt, twists the other in his hair, and lets Gerard have his way. Grant knows this has every possibility of lasting for hours, if their moods are sufficiently lazy. Maybe a lot less. Maybe they'll get distracted in the middle by some sort of obscure discussion. It's always something new. The unpredictable nature of their little trysts is half the fun.

Gerard wraps his arms around Grant's shoulders and presses his entire body against Grant, grinding his hips down hard. That's...new. Usually their clothing stays on, and amongst the kissing, there have been only a few breathless handjobs, a lot of lazy frottage. Rarely anything so...insistent. Grant lifts up experimentally on the hem of Gerard's shirt and Gerard pulls back, but only to take his shirt off completely.

"This'll be better if you take yours off too," he whispers. New.

Grant grabs Gerard around the waist and deposits him in the corner of the sofa. He strips his own shirt off and covers Gerard's body with his, but not before Gerard gets his hands between them, spreading them across Grant's chest with a satisfied noise. Feeling Gerard's skin against his is astonishingly good. And then Gerard wraps his legs over Grant's thighs and thrusts up against him and Grant has to moan. "This is different," he says against Gerard's throat.

"You feel good," is all Gerard says, as if it explains everything. Perhaps it does. He starts moving his hips against Gerard's, finds Gerard's mouth again and kisses him deeply, exploring Gerard's skin with his hands. Gerard arches into his touches, especially when he runs his fingers over Gerard's nipples. Grant kisses down his neck, his chest, and swirls his tongue around one while rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger.

Gerard makes the most unsurprising but still arousing noises, Grant discovers. He doesn't know how far this is meant to go, but when his mouth travels down Gerard's stomach he supposes he'll find out within moments, or inches.

"Grant," Gerard groans and he looks up into his face. There's no hesitation there. Only desire. Grant holds his gaze as he unbuttons Gerard's fly and pulls down the zip. "Please." It's small and quiet and Grant leans down to mouth at Gerard's cock through his underwear. He can feel Gerard's fingers cradle his skull, oh so gently. Gerard's cock is hard, already leaking a bit. Grant wonders how long he has been. He presses his tongue against the damp cotton. "Please," Gerard says again. This time it's more urgent, more forceful.

Grant tugs the waistband of Gerard's briefs down and takes his cock in hand. Just a loose fist, no movement. Gerard moans and his hips twitch impatiently. "Do you want my mouth, Gerard? Ask," Grant tells him when all he does is moan again.

"Grant, please. Suck me," he begs and Grant leans down to take the head of Gerard's cock in his mouth. Gerard curses and his fingers tighten on Grant's head. He tastes incredible. He feels incredible. Grant sucks a little, then takes more of the shaft in his mouth, jerking his fist loosely. "Grant!" Gerard gasps.

Grant grips Gerard's hip with his free hand. He wants to do more, wants to explore Gerard's body thoroughly, but something stops him. He concentrates on using his lips and tongue and hands, marking the things that draw a gasp or a curse or a thrust of Gerard's hips.

It doesn't take long for Gerard's breathing to get even quicker, for the thrust of his hips to become more insistent. "Grant," he moans. "So close." Grant takes him in further, swallowing around him then pulling back to jack him faster. He's probably leaving a bruise on Gerard's hipbone. He sucks hard around the head again, works his tongue until he feels Gerard coming, hot spurts in his mouth and fingers massaging Grant's head.

Grant swallows it down and sweeps his hand over Gerard's belly. He shifts his hips against the couch, enjoying a little bit of friction as Gerard comes down. He can tell the moment that happens, when Gerard pushes at his shoulders until Grant's pressed into the opposite corner of the couch, climbing back on top of him and fumbling for his crotch even as he crushes their lips together again. He's uncoordinated but practically frantic in his insistence. This is still not the slow, lazy making out Grant's used to. But he's not going to say no.

Gerard gets his pants open and shoves them down his thighs. "Fuck, Grant," he whispers and wraps a hand around Grant's cock. Gerard runs his thumb over the head. Grant sucks in a breath and shoves his hand into Gerard's hair.

Gerard leans down and lets his teeth graze over one of Grant's nipples. Grant is hard-pressed to hold back a whine. Gerard's hand feels amazing too, especially after he starts stroking.

Gerard sits up on Grant's thighs. "This is a two-hand job," he says with a little smirk.

"Let me help you with that," Grant says, wrapping his hand around Gerard's and keeping them both moving. He captures Gerard's other hand and sucks the fingertips into his mouth. He's a little scared of what he might say, otherwise.

Gerard groans as Grant swirls his tongue around his fingers. Gerard speeds up their hands and Grant's eyes slip closed for a moment. He forces them back open, though. He wants to see Gerard still flushed from his own orgasm with his wild hair and lips red and shiny from their kisses. He's beautiful, sexy to a ridiculous degree - and ridiculous too. He wears it all with no self-consciousness.

Right now he's concentrating hard on his hands - the one jacking Grant so expertly, the one he's running over Grant's lips and cheeks. Grant thrusts up into Gerard's hand and reaches out to grip his hips. His fingers dig in hard when Gerard runs his thumb over the slit of Grant's cock again. Grant bites his lip, holding back the words that would admit how much he's craved this. Then Gerard leans down and bites Grant's lip for him. Grant moans into his mouth and wraps a hand around his neck. He holds Gerard's lips against his and licks into his mouth.

Gerard's mouth is familiar, but this frantic, desperate kissing, this is different. Gerard shifts his mouth, down Grant's jaw and neck, and when he bites down hard on the side of Grant's neck, Grant groans and thrust hard into their hands and comes. Gerard lets go of Grant's cock and brings Grant's fingers up to his mouth; he sucks them clean and then settles down on Grant's chest.

Grant wraps Gerard in his arms. He can't stop the soft kiss he presses into Gerard's forehead. With his free hand, he picks up his abandoned absinthe glass and drains the last few mouthfuls of it as Gerard traces tiny circles into his chest.

They don't talk for a while. Grant thinks they're both afraid to break the spell of whatever it was that just happened. Finally he just asks, "Would you like a refill, pet? Some water?"

"I should probably drink some water and go home," Gerard murmurs.

"Anything you want," Grant says, tipping his chin up and kissing him one more time before slipping out from underneath him, When he comes back from the kitchen with a tall glass of water, Gerard has his shirt back on and he's grinning at Grant.

"Thanks," he says and takes the water. Grant busies himself with pulling his own shirt back on, but becomes abruptly fascinated by Gerard's throat working as he drinks. Gerard pulls the glass from his mouth and quirks his head at Grant. Grant shakes his head.

"Will you be okay to get home?"

"Of course," Gerard says with a smile. "I'll just take the bus."

"All right. Call when you get home, else I'll worry," he says.

"I wouldn't want that," Gerard says, touching Grant's cheek and handing the glass back. Grant reaches out and tugs Gerard close for one last quick kiss.

"Always a pleasure, Professor."

"See you Monday," Gerard replies.

"Monday," Grant says. "Perhaps I'll get us some of that coffee from the roaster you like."

"You are so good to me," Gerard grins lazily.

"I am, aren't I? Goodnight, Gerard. Enjoy the rest of your weekend with Mikey." Grant stares at the door for a good few minutes after it closes. That was not at all what he'd been expecting from the evening. Grant should know by now not to expect things. Not that he's complaining. He's just not certain what, if anything, it means.

Gerard calls twenty minutes later. "'M home," he murmurs. "In bed."

"Good. Sleep well, pet," Grant murmurs.

***

By the time Gerard has a moment to go over to the English Department on Monday, he's close to screaming.

"Gerard," Grant greets. "You look terrible."

"I drew the short straw. Got the eight am general ed drawing class," he says. "Please tell me there's coffee."

"I promised you coffee, didn't I?" Grant says, going over to the pot he keeps on a bookcase in his office.

"Because you are the best. At this point, I'd probably take last week's dregs if I had to," Gerard replies. Grant turns back toward him with a steaming mug Gerard knows is just how he likes it. "Thank you," he breathes, catching Grant's wrist and squeezing with his free hand.

"Anything for you, pet."

Gerard's chest tightens a little bit just like it always does when Grant calls him that. He takes a sip of his coffee and breathes in deep through his nose. "Fuck, that's good. You really are good to me."

Grant doesn't make the expected joke this time around, just smiles and pours his own coffee. That's...hm. Gerard had gotten used to the way things were between them. He supposes maybe he'd been the one to initiate what happened Friday night. But he couldn't help himself.

Gerard never has a problem pulling - Grant thinks it's hilarious, because Gerard usually barely even has to exert himself - but this summer hadn't brought anyone exciting, and Grant had been gone, and Gerard had missed him a shocking amount. And he'd missed Grant's kisses and touches almost as much. It's not as if he got them that often to begin with. It's never, ever been a problem, though - this thing they do - and Gerard's not ready to let it become one now.

"So how was your time with Mikey?" Grant asks, voice totally natural.

"It was great," Gerard replies as normally as he can. "Went to a show Saturday night."

"Nice. And besides the eight am from hell? Anything exciting on your agenda?"

"Sitting here with you and grading, and cursing myself for assigning homework the first week?" Gerard asks hopefully.

"Not just lurking in the English department in case a certain of my coworkers comes by?" Grant inquires.

"That's just a happy side benefit," Gerard says and waves his hand dismissively. An awesome side benefit. But mostly, he just likes sitting here with Grant. His department head is a friend of Grant's, and he'll occasionally stop by and threaten to give Gerard's office away "since you seem to prefer this one," he teases. It's true, really. He is usually in one of the studios or in Grant's office when he doesn't have office hours.

Gerard does keep one eye on the open door, though, and not only in case of student invasion. He really wouldn't mind another eyeful of Professor Iero, who's a sinfully attractive little morsel. It's Grant who actually spots him, though. "Professor Iero, you look like you could use some coffee," he calls.

"I would kill a man for some coffee," is the reply, and then Frank Iero hurries through the door, arms full of papers. "Not you," he assures Gerard. "If you don't make any sudden movements." Grant is watching from his desk, looking amused. This is a different Professor Iero than Friday.

"You had your first eight am, didn't you, Professor?" Gerard asks him.

"Call me Frank," he mutters absently in reply, eyes fixed on the coffee maker. Gerard laughs and gets up to take the stack of papers away from him.

"I can laugh," Gerard says, "Because I had one this morning too. If there's a god, he invented eight am classes to make us miserable." Frank nods fervently as he drinks down at least half of his coffee. Before actually sitting down.

"You might as well get a refill," Grant tells him. Frank smiles a bit and does so before going to sit down on the sofa by Gerard. Since Gerard is watching, he sees the urge to sprawl that Frank quickly checks. He crosses his legs at the knee instead. Gerard finds himself mirroring the motion, taking the opportunity to give Frank another once-over. Glasses, neatly tied tie, tattoos peeking out from under his shirt. Gerard might as well have had him custom-ordered.

"So what manner of eight am hell have they inflicted on you?" Grant asks. "Freshman comp?"

"No, thank god. But only a step above. It's the freshman lit class for majors. So at least they're reasonably articulate. My comp class is in a couple of hours," Frank replies.

"Ugh, fuck you," Gerard says. "I'm stuck with general ed drawing."

"Our hearts bleed for you," Grant says.

"Says the man who hasn't had to teach a general ed or anything below upper division or graduate level in years," Gerard grouses.

"It's called tenure, pet," Grant tells him. "You're nearly there, never fear."

Frank looks speculatively between them before saying, "Fuck you both. I have years to go."

Grant laughs. "Trust me, they go fast. And you'll find yourself missing the freshmen sometimes."

"Not as long as I'm still being mistaken for one," Frank says.

"They're not giving you any trouble, are they?" Grant asks.

"No, but only because I'm being a hardass. I really didn't want to be the stereotypical first year professor, but multiple people asked me if I was a TA during the first class," Frank says and grimaces.

Yes, Gerard was right about this one. He's adorable - and a lot less tightly wound than Gerard had originally thought. In short, fascinating.

"You're prepared for all the girls to fall in love with you, yes?" Grant asks.

"Not a problem," Frank says immediately.

"And some of the boys too," Gerard adds.

He turns a little pink this time. "Still not a problem."

Gerard tries and mostly succeeds at keeping the smirk off his face. He glances over at Grant who gives him a shrewd look. "And you're prepared for the senior professors to take advantage of you?" Gerard teases.

Frank glances over at Grant, who immediately throws his hands up, palms out. "Only if explicitly invited," he says. Frank's mouth twists in amusement before he straightens his face.

"I think I can handle that too," Frank replies and takes a sip of his coffee. "Perhaps a little differently in that situation."

"He's a tough one," Grant comments to Gerard. "Didn't I tell you?"

Gerard laughs. "And when have I ever doubted you? Frank," he says, leaning over confidentially, "he is a terrible influence. Don't let him fool you with the designer suits and the self-deprecating charm."

"Are we talking about the same person?" Frank deadpans. "Although the coffee is a check in the plus column."

Grant gives Gerard a faux dirty look. "Gerard is no innocent angel, either."

"Only because you corrupted me."

"That process started long before you met me," Grant tells him.

"Ah, but you encouraged every single one of my weirder tendencies," Gerard counters.

"Someone has to. 'Mentor' sounds better than 'terrible influence'," Grant says to Frank.

"If you'll keep sharing your coffee, point taken," Frank answers amiably.

"My office is nearly always open to those desperately in need of caffeine," Grant says.

"So I'll be here nearly always, then," Frank says. "Except for right now," he says with a grimace. "Next class."

"Me too," Gerard says. "I'll walk with you. Talk to you later, Grant."

Frank slings his bag over his shoulder and Gerard hands him his stack of papers, then picks up his own bag. They both walk out of the building and turn in the same direction.

"So where's your class?"

"Benson Hall," Frank replies.

"I'm right next to that in Kline," Gerard replies.

"I heard Kline is supposed to be haunted. True or BS?" Frank asks as they walk across the quad.

"One hundred percent true, I swear to god... and I'm not hazing you," Gerard says. "I mean, it's a mostly friendly ghost. Mischievous."

"You're telling me ghost stories sometime," Frank tells him. "But this is me. See you around, Gerard."

"See you," Gerard replies and watches for a moment as Frank walks into the building. Oh, he is definitely in trouble.

***

Classes the rest of the morning go okay. Frank likes material that's vaguely related to what he actually studied in grad school, so that's a bonus for today's sections. He doesn't let himself think about Gerard Way or Grant Morrison until it's over and the last student is gone.

Frank's met a lot of the English department by now. Dean Martin - which still makes him laugh, because smooth he is not - is all right if you don't mind old dudes who like the sound of their own voice. Frank's officemate is named Pete, and he seems pretty cool. They've had some rad discussions of the Beats and Hunter S Thompson already.

Morrison is - not what Frank expected. He's heard all the gossip, of course. Most of it skewed against Grant because you don't go to grad school where Alan Moore is a fellow and not hear rumors about how Grant Morrison is Wrong and also an ass. Frank's the particular brand of stubborn that likes to make up its own mind, though. Plus, the man's stuff is practically required reading in a lot of grad-level classes.

So far, he's pretty fascinated. Morrison is funny and warm and very obviously extremely intelligent. He likes debate and talking to all kinds of people. And while Frank can see why others might find him intimidating at first, Frank is fairly certain that's just the act of a man who is actually a bit shy when it comes right down to it. He's certainly generous, and well, Frank's not sure exactly what descriptor best covers his friendship with Way, but mentor is as good as any for now.

He's curious about Way and Morrison's relationship. Way clearly spends a lot of time in Morrison's office. There's an undercurrent between them he's pretty sure he'd have to be dead not to notice. But at the same time, they're very casual together. Maybe it's nothing. Way - Gerard - is definitely an incorrigible flirt. Frank can't deny it's gratifying to be flirted with. Especially after spending so much if his time assuring people that yes, he is old enough to be a professor, would you like to see his diplomas? And no, he is not lost. Being treated as an adult, as someone appealing enough to flirt with is just fucking nice.

Though not when you walk in on it in your own office, Frank grimaces, as he nudges the door open to see Gabe Saporta perched on Pete's desk. Talk about undercurrents.

"Frankie!" Pete exclaims. "How's your second Monday been, man?"

"Eh, not bad. Eight am classes are evil and should be banned," Frank answers.

"I like them," Gabe says. "Not because I like being up and teaching that early, mind, but because I enjoy the looks of despair."

"You don't get enough looks of despair as a philosophy prof at normal times of day?" Frank asks.

"About as many as you get when you say 'iambic pentameter', I would think," Gabe says.

"Touché," Frank replies with a grin.

"We're going out for an early dinner if you want to come with," Pete offers.

Frank glances between them. "Think I'll pass this time, but thanks for the offer."

He goes home by himself instead, after doing some work on his computer for a while. He's gone home by himself every night of his life, so really, he should be used to it. And mostly he is. But starting a new thing always makes him wish he had something familiar to come home to. Maybe he should get a dog now that his situation is more permanent. He gets himself a beer, turns on Food Network, and calls James instead of opening up Petfinder on his laptop. James has funny stories and random shit about his life to tell and is basically exactly what Frank needs. He hangs up and marks a batch of passages to add to his lesson plans and calls it a night.

He doesn't have classes on Tuesday, but he has appointments with his advisees. Hopefully he remembers the department handbook well enough that he doesn't give bad advice or sound like a tool. He doesn't go to Grant's office at all that morning, so he's surprised when a cup of coffee lands on his desk with a clink around eleven. He stares at the coffee for a moment before looking up to smile.

It's Grant in front of him with a slight smile on his face. "Professor," Frank greets. "Thank you. To what do I owe the pleasure? And the coffee."

"To the papers I needed to deliver to George, and to my good nature, of course."

Frank gets the distinct feeling that he's been made Grant's project. He wonders if this is how it started with Gerard. "Well, if you've already delivered the papers to the Dean, feel free to take a seat. I have a bit before my next student is supposed to show up."

Grant steals Pete's chair from the other side of the partition and leans back, the picture of relaxation. "You share an office. With?"

"Pete Wentz," Frank replies. "He's... a character. But at least he has good taste in music."

"Ah. Mr. Wentz. Bright young man. Not in my concentration."

"He's got a thing going on with a guy in the philosophy department, and I don't think he really has many advisees, so I don't see much of him. Suits us both," Frank says and sips his coffee. "This is really fucking good."

"Of course it is, Iero," Grant says. "I have excellent taste."

"You're still trying to convince me of that reputation of yours, aren't you?"

"I cannot help it," Grant replies. "It's that Cambridge pencil mug, staring at me."

Frank smirks. "If it makes you feel better, I saw Moore perhaps twice in my entire five years there."

"Hiding in his den, combing his beard, I imagine. You'll be much more appreciated here." Grant's eyes twinkle. Frank tips his head back and laughs.

"It's actually kind of hilarious, hearing all those rumors about you and then coming here and meeting you. My friends there are going to be so disappointed when I tell them you don't have fangs."

"That you've seen."

"I suppose I'll just have to spend more time with you to learn the truth, then," Frank says.

"If you insist," Grant says lazily. It's refreshing to meet someone with as dry a sense of humor as his. "You can join Gerard and me for dinner tonight if you'd like."

"I would like," he says. This is definitely a more appealing invitation than the one to join Pete and Gabe. He pauses. "Um. If it wouldn't be a fifth wheel thing. Are you two..."

"Gerard and I are many things. Together isn't really one of them," Grant replies evenly. "We do, however, have standing dinner plans at least a few times each week, whenever our class schedules permit."

Frank wonders at the "really" qualifier, but doesn't ask. It's none of his business. "Well, if I wouldn't be intruding, I'd love to join you. What time? And where should I meet you?"

"Meet us at the library, then, at six. We can walk from there."

"I'll be there," Frank says. At that moment, one of his advisees knocks on the doorjamb.

"Professor Iero?" Frank glances down at the file in front of him. Upperclassman transfer. She's having problems getting credits registered and the Dean asked him to review the course materials.

"Just a second, Meghan."

Grant stands. "See you at dinner, Frank."

Meghan's watching him walk away too, so Frank doesn't feel bad about looking, just for a moment. "So that's Morrison?" she asks when she turns back around.

"Yup. Nice guy. Don't listen to the rumors. Let's get started."

Frank likes his one-on-ones a lot more than the lecture classes, so he's glad to spend some time on them in between working on course notes. The rest of the day goes by pretty fast and before he knows it, he's walking toward the library. Gerard's already there when he walks up.

"I sort of pegged you as the 'perpetually a few minutes late' sort."

Gerard laughs. "I get that a lot. I'm actually really punctual. Like, I get anxious if I'm not on time. Grant, on the other hand, needs to be pried away from his computer if he's working. He's usually not too late to our dinner dates. He started setting alarms for himself after he was nearly half an hour late and not answering his phone one time."

"And you freaked out?"

"I have an active imagination," Gerard says, making a face.

"So, we can expect him to be a little bit late?" Frank asks.

"Yeah, a bit. Usually no more than five minutes. I'd just show up five minutes later than the originally agreed upon time, but I can't seem to train my brain to realize that it's okay to do that." Gerard wrinkles his nose at himself.

"You can spend five minutes telling me about yourself," Frank suggests.

"What do you want to know?" Gerard asks.

"Desert Island Albums is always a good one, but since we only have five minutes and I'm pretty sure you'd take longer than that, how about you just tell me about your family," Frank says.

"Two parents, still living in the same house in Jersey where I grew up. My brother Mikey is three years younger than me. He lives in the city now. Comes up to visit a lot. You'll probably meet him sooner or later."

"You grew up in Jersey?" Frank asks. He might have known Gerard was a Jersey boy.

"Yup. Belleville."

"Get out. Small world. I was just down the road."

"And now you're here, via a small detour to England." Gerard laughs. "Works for me."

Frank laughs too. "Sometimes I'm still not quite sure how that one happened. I was millimeters from quitting college altogether for my band. And then my band fell apart and I switched majors and here I am. But this wasn't supposed to be about me."

"Too bad," Gerard chuckles, but continues, "I always wanted to do art. There was a brief detour into soul-crushing corporate work and coke addiction, but I went back to school and… just decided to keep going," Gerard says and shrugs.

"That's probably a good call. I mean, I haven't seen your stuff, but I assume it's pretty awesome. Just because -" he sort of sputters to a stop and blushes. Dammit.

Gerard just beams. "I have your book sitting on my desk. And I'm pretty sure it's good too. Even though I haven't cracked it open yet."

"The poetry collection or the short stories?" Frank asks curiously.

"Short stories," Gerard replies. "Though I have the poetry on hold at the library. I suspect I am waiting behind a line of pretty eighteen-year-old girls, though."

"You could ask nicely if the author has copies he loans out," Frank says.

"That would have interfered with my plan to read it and then impress you with my knowledge," Gerard says. "But I suppose I can do it now."

"I suspect you'll like the short stories better. The poetry is... No one but eighteen-year-old girls will rhapsodize over my pathetic romantic history immortalized in verse."

"You're not giving yourself enough credit," Grant says and Frank turns to see him walk up. Gerard nudges him playfully in the side.

"Yes, yes. Five minutes late. As usual. At least you had a companion this time," Grant says.

"You read my poetry?" Frank asks nervously.

"I did. I will grant that some of it reads like it was written by an undergrad undertaking a very ambitious final project." Frank has to chuckle. That's exactly what it was. "But more of it reads like the work of a very gifted writer."

"Let's take the Praise Our New Colleague show on the road," Gerard says.

"I am stealing your wristwatch," Grant replies. Gerard shoots him a dirty look, and Frank a confused one. "It was the first nice thing he bought for himself after finishing grad school. I could never actually steal it," he explains to Frank with a sigh. They start walking toward the main thoroughfare running next to the university. "Really, Frank. Some of those poems are extraordinary. You manage to be stark and romantic at the same time. It's strong work. Gerard will love the short stories, though."

Frank's face is burning by the time they walk to the restaurant. Gerard pats him on the back and leans in close. "I know how you feel. He's the best at flattery."

"So where are we eating?" Frank asks to change the subject.

"Grant's favorite place. It's kind of Asian fusion? Lots of vegetarian dishes."

"Oh, good. Sometimes it's hard to find good vegetarian," Frank says. "Which one of you - or both -"

"Oh, I'm a carnivore," Gerard says with an arch look.

"Marginally," Grant adds. "He's generally just as pleased to eat vegetarian as not."

"Also, I'm lazy. Meat is effort," Gerard says.

"You'll have to tell me where else I should go. There was a place almost on campus in Cambridge that I basically lived at."

"If you're really lucky, Grant will cook for you. But that only happens like once a semester," Gerard says. Grant reaches out and pats Gerard's cheek.

"I have neither the patience nor the will to cook regularly, but I do enjoy doing it for friends once every few months," Grant says.

The restaurant isn't crowded, on a Tuesday, and they're seated right away. Gerard makes a point to sit next to Frank - close to Frank. Grant recommends several dishes to Frank and they all order. "See?" Grant says with a chuckle when Gerard orders a vegetarian dish. "Not at all devoted to the cause of the carnivorous."

"Just occasionally," Gerard says, snapping his teeth playfully in Frank's direction. Frank looks down and takes a sip of his water.

"Gerard, don't frighten him away," Grant scolds.

"Was that supposed to be scary?" Frank says, holding eye contact with Gerard.

"Under certain definitions of scary," Gerard hedges with a coy smile.

"Leave it to the Theatre Department, Professor," Frank says, patting Gerard's hand.

Gerard looks affronted. "I'll have you know I was the best Peter Pan Belleville Middle School ever saw."

"You are... particularly suited to musical theatre," Grant says. Frank can't help but giggle.

"Grant Morrison, what are you trying to say?"

"I am merely trying to say that you have a flair for the dramatic that works well with musical theatre, pet," he replies with an innocent little smile.

Gerard opens his mouth clearly ready to object, but then laughs and runs his hand through his hair. "Okay, you're right."

"Professor Morrison is used to being right, I think," Frank murmurs.

"That's because he nearly always is," Gerard says.

Grant laughs and runs a hand over his head. "I shall call you for my next book jacket blurb."

"I would be an excellent jacket blurb choice. You'd have sudden interdisciplinary appeal."

"I'll let you design the jacket too. I know you've been just salivating to get your hands on my...work."

Frank watches Gerard look at Grant from under his eyelashes and say, "I really have, it's true."

God, these two. Frank can barely concentrate on anything else. Grant says they're not together, but they're certainly something. The waiter delivers their food and Frank takes an absentminded bite. Maybe they just fuck. Maybe they used to fuck. He's so distracted by the thoughts that he practically inhales a pepper. He coughs and reaches for his water.

"All right?" Grant asks.

"Take it easy," Gerard says, rubbing his back. Fuck, that feels good. Sometimes he forgets how much he craves contact. This, he frowns, is why he needs a dog. Or something.

"Hey, do either of you know of any good dog adoption agencies in the area?" he asks. Might as well.

Grant replies, "One of my friends volunteers with one. I don't remember the name, but I can get it to you tomorrow. Thinking of getting a dog?"

Frank says, "It's never been the right time. For years. I'm starting to talk to myself now."

"You'll just start talking to the dog instead," Grant says. "I talk to my cats more often than not."

"I don't mind talking to the dog. It's better than the alternative."

Gerard laughs. "I just talk to myself. I keep meaning to get a dog, but never seem to get around to it."

"Want to come with me?" Frank asks.

"I… sure! If nothing else, animal shelters are like, the best places ever to visit," Gerard replies.

"Cool, it's a date," Frank says and keeps eating.

They talk about all sorts of things for the rest of the meal. And it's fun. Relaxed. He never really expected friends like this in the faculty so fast, certainly not people like Grant and Gerard, but he won't argue.

***

They walk with Frank until their paths to their apartments diverge, but Gerard keeps walking with Grant. He doesn't want the evening to be over yet, even if he just turns around when he gets to Grant's door.

After a block, Grant asks, "Are you coming home with me, or going on to your apartment?"

"Come home with me? I don't have any absinthe, but I do have your favorite lager."

"That sounds good, Gerard."

"Frank's really great," Gerard says after a few paces. "I'm glad we've adopted him."

"Yes, I agree," Grant says. "He is something special."

They get to Gerard's building and climb the stairs up to the second floor. Gerard lets them in and grabs a lager for Grant and a Coke for himself; he still has some quizzes to grade because he promised them to his students. He sits next to Grant and pulls his legs up onto the couch. Grant's flipping through the stack of quizzes, chuckling at some of the questions. "Shut up," Gerard says. "They're art quizzes."

"And I love them," Grant says. "You know I'd never disparage what you do or how you do it. Teaching art is an entirely different animal than teaching English."

"I know," Gerard replies and leans into Grant's side a little bit.

Grant takes a sip of his beer and reaches out to run a hand through Gerard's hair. "You're looking tired," Grant tells him.

"I guess I am. Didn't really register until we got up here," Gerard says.

"I can leave, pet. I know you have work still to do," Grant offers. Gerard shakes his head.

"You staying is better motivation to stay awake."

Grant smiles. "Shall we come up with some kind of reward system for you? Provide even more motivation?"

"Can't hurt." Gerard's really not that surprised when Grant leans down and kisses him.

"Mark five quizzes and you'll get another." Grant picks up the stack of comic books on Gerard's coffee table and looks over at him, eyebrow raised.

"Right," Gerard says and picks up his stack of quizzes and his pen. He gets the first five done in relatively short order. One of them even has a hilarious smartass answer that Gerard and Grant laugh over for a bit before Gerard marks off some points, but not as many as he probably should, and moves on. "Done," Gerard announces.

"Very good," Grant says, sticking a finger in the comic to mark his place before leaning over and kissing Gerard again. He makes it soft and thorough and not nearly long enough. "Five more, pet," he whispers against Gerard's lips when he pulls back.

Gerard's suddenly not sure if this reward plan was a good idea. Because all he can think about for a moment is more kisses. Also, he's rapidly becoming really unhappy that this is a class of thirty or so and not one of the huge two-hundred-person PHIL-101 lectures. Though, really, if it were one of those he'd just cruelly pawn them off on his student worker and not make promises about getting things back to students so fast. It's just. He really likes kissing Grant.

Gerard grades the next set of five in silence, stops to complain about one student's need for an attitude adjustment in the five after that. He's not sure if he's imagining it, or if the kisses are getting longer. The next five includes someone who has terrible handwriting and Gerard feels like burning the paper. His kiss after that set is definitely longer. Grant is clearly staying firmly within the boundaries of "just a little making out" this time. It's expected, but Gerard is a little disappointed anyway.

When he finally finishes the last quiz, it's the longest yet. Grant doesn't touch him much, just holds onto his shoulders and lets his tongue explore Gerard's mouth a bit. He tastes like his lager, and Gerard's starting to debate the merits of crawling into his lap when he disengages gently.

"You should put yourself to bed now, Gerard."

"Yeah," Gerard says. He's suddenly exhausted again. He wants to ask Grant to stay, just to sleep. But that's probably stupid. And they've done it before, but never when sober or near-sober.

"It was lovely as always," Grant tells him, pushing Gerard's hair off his face. Gerard turns his head into Grant's hand.

"Yeah. Thanks for the motivation."

"My pleasure," Grant replies and stands. "See you tomorrow, Gerard." And then he's gone. And Gerard is too tired to think, or else he might have stopped him.

The next morning he has his eight a.m. again and drags himself out of bed and into clothes of questionable cleanliness. He's pretty sure he looks like a stereotypical crazy professor. His feet take him to Grant's office on autopilot after class, but a hand finds his shoulder halfway there.

"Rough night?" Frank asks.

"Ugh," Gerard replies.

"That good, huh?" Frank asks.

"Stayed up too late and slept weird," Gerard says. Frank gives him half a hug.

"I've been told the coffee is this way."

Gerard wants the other half of the hug.

Frank holds up a paper bag as they walk toward Grant's office. "I brought pastries," he says with a smile.

"Marry me," Gerard says, reaching for the bag as they walk through the open door.

"Isn't it a bit early for marriage proposals?" Grant asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Frank brought us pastries. I'm keeping him."

"I did see him first," Grant says mildly, holding out a hand for a pastry. Gerard hands him one and pours them all coffee.

"But I called dibs."

"I didn't realize anyone over the age of eleven called dibs."

"Please, continue fighting over me," Frank says. "That's not good for my ego or anything. Although technically I saw Grant first, not the other way around."

Gerard smirks. "That sounds like a challenge."

"Just a comment." Frank bites into a pastry and chews with a smug little smile on his face. Gerard's too busy chewing to answer, but he shoots a look at Grant who gives him a grin and a little challenging look.

Gerard is having a hard time telling if Grant is just yanking his chain or not. For all the crap he gives Gerard about sleeping his way through the new profs, Grant...doesn't do the same. Gerard tries to remember the last time Grant had a boyfriend. He can't. In fact, unless he's very much mistaken, the only person Grant has been with at all in at least a year is... Gerard. Huh.

"I guess if it comes down to fairness I've got to defer to my elders," Gerard says after he swallows his bite.

"If you suddenly became deferential, my life would be very boring indeed," Grant murmurs.

"I think you'd have fun with that," Frank comments, looking from one to the other. Gerard looks over at Grant who stares back steadily.

"Perhaps. In the right context."

"Well," Frank muses. "I'm an assistant professor, so I guess I've got to practice my own deferential face."

Grant laughs. "Somehow I'm having trouble picturing you as deferential."

"I get that a lot." Frank says and takes another swig of coffee, finally sprawling out over the couch. Gerard can't help but stare at the curve of his body against the cushions, at the line of his jaw turned toward them. He's gorgeous. Gerard wants to draw him.

"Careful, Frank," Grant says. "That's Gerard's art project face. He'll have you posing soon."

Frank looks at him with interest. "You still haven't shown me any of your art."

"None of it's here!" Gerard says.

"That's a lie," Grant interjects. "You have your sketchbook and there are two pieces framed behind my head."

Frank pops up like he's on springs and crowds behind Grant's desk with him to study the drawings hanging there. "Holy shit, Gerard," Frank breathes after a moment. "These are incredible."

Gerard really is pretty proud of those. They're multimedia collages illustrating two of Grant's novels and using sentences and chapter headings from them.

"They are one of the best gifts I've received in all my years writing," Grant says.

Gerard looks at Grant and just smiles. "That's how those books made me feel," he says quietly.

Frank returns to the couch and sits down practically on Gerard, this time. "Sketchbook," he demands.

Gerard laughs and feels his face heat a bit. He reaches into his bag and rifles through stacks of papers and a couple of textbooks to find a moleskine. "This is literally a sketchbook," he tells Frank before passing it over. "Some artists have all nice and polished shit in these and call them sketchbooks. This is not one of those."

"Don't care," Frank mumbles, already turning pages. He leans solidly against Gerard's side.

"That's my brother," Gerard says when Frank flips to a pretty decent drawing of Mikey.

"He looks familiar," Frank says.

Gerard laughs and Grant joins him. "Everyone says that."

"He looks a little like you, I guess," Frank says after a thorough study of Gerard's face.

"We look pretty different on first glance, but similarity is there if you're looking. Mostly, if you lived in Jersey and went to any shows in the area, you probably saw Mikey," Gerard says.

"Maybe that's it," Frank says, returning to the book. "Is this... an Iron Maiden album cover homage?"

"I was listening to The Number of the Beast," Gerard replies. "It just happened."

"Do awesome things just happen to you all the time?"

Gerard glances involuntarily at Grant. Grant quirks a little smile at him. "Not all the time. Just often enough."

Gerard steals the book back when it's time for their walk to their next classes. "Still want those ghost stories," Frank reminds him.

"Definitely. We could have like, a ghost story night. Grant has some good ones too. Scottish ghost stories, even," Gerard says.

"Dude, that would be great. I'd say we should do it on my birth--Halloween, but that is way too fucking long to wait."

"Your birthday is Halloween? Well, then we'll do something that night for sure, that's awesome."

"You hang out with Grant a lot, don't you?" Frank says. Gerard can't quite tell if he's implying....

"He's my best friend here. Really, my best friend full stop, aside from Mikey. He's... my first year, we met at some stupid faculty party. The kind where they try to make the disciplines intermingle awkwardly? And I was a fan, so I worked up the courage to go talk to him and we just... clicked," Gerard explains. "I had white hair at the time and was wearing this jacket that - Grant called me a goth Sgt. Pepper. And then told me how relieved he was that I knew it was a compliment."

Frank laughs. "I bet you were a hot goth Sgt. Pepper. And here's me. See you later!"

"Oh, no you didn't, Iero," Gerard mutters to himself. That was... Provocative. And clearly intentional.

***

Frank grins to himself as he walks into the building. He can't help but love messing with people like that. Especially when he's being truthful. He's not sure what Gerard is up to - the ogling was pretty blatant, but he totally shut down Frank's question about the amount of time he spends with Grant. Frank supposes it makes things easier. He doesn't really date, anyway. He likes flirting, though. And he likes being flirted with, so he might as well keep it up. It's not like Grant has been innocent of ogling either.

His next door neighbor comes over after class and makes a squinchy face at him through the glass window in the door. He waves her in. "What's up, Becky?"

"Nothing much. How goes week two?" she asks.

"Surviving. More than surviving, really. It's been surprisingly great, actually," he replies.

"Making friends?" she grins.

"Yes, actually," he says. "How about you?"

"Well, there's you. If that counts. I have been here a couple years now, you know," she says.

"Totally counts," he says with a grin.

"But I hear rumors from the art department that you've broken in with the dynamic duo," she says.

"Do people really call them that?" he giggles.

"Not really. I mean, sometimes. Mostly they're just Grant and Gerard. Like...you don't talk about one without the other," Becky says.

"I had gotten that impression, yeah," Frank says.

Becky laughs. "Well, I'm assuming Grant doesn't tag along to Gerard's hookups, but what do I know?"

Frank raises an eyebrow. "So... are they hooking up with each other?"

"Nobody really knows. I think a lot of people just assume they are. If they are, it doesn't seem to stop Gerard from working his way through the faculty." Frank must make a face, because she waves her hand emphatically. "No, no, I'm not - I love Gerard. Everybody does. He just does... What he does. He very rarely burns any bridges. He's got like, one sworn enemy, but that person isn't on the faculty anymore, so..." she shrugs.

"Huh," is all Frank says.

"Anyway, he and Grant are good times."

"This is definitely true," Frank says. "So what're you up to next?"

"I have a meeting with a student in...twenty minutes," she replies. "I should probably head back to my office."

"Have a good day, Becky. See you Friday," he says.

Frank hums idly as he walks back to his own office. Gerard, who does what he does. Frank almost wishes he could go there, because he's pretty sure it would be worth it, but...he doesn't do that. Maybe it's a product of growing up Catholic in combination with his parents' divorce, but he's incapable of treating sex and relationships as anything other than serious and important. Maybe Gerard will just decide to keep the flirting at the level it is right now. Frank can handle that.

He starts going back toward his office, but detours to a cafe to get a sandwich. When he gets back to English Department again, he notices it's just Grant sitting in his office by himself. Frank leans against the doorjamb. "He have class or actually remember he has his own office?" Frank asks.

"We can occasionally be found on our own," Grant says.

"I wasn't sure," Frank says and winks.

"Were you looking for him?" Grant asks. Frank shrugs.

"Nope. Just bored. Thought I'd see if either or both of you might be interested in a walk. I'm afraid if I sit down at my desk, I'll promptly fall asleep."

"Yes. Lovely." Grant gets up and shrugs back into his suit jacket. Frank grins.

"Let me go drop my bag in my office and I'll be right back." Grant meets him in the hallway and they head out onto the quad.

"Any particular destination in mind?" Grant asks.

"Nah. Maybe just around campus? I still don't know where everything is."

"I have been told I make a passable guide."

"Is that what happened with Gerard? You offered to be his guide and now however many years later, you're inseparable?" Frank asks.

"I suppose it is."

"The way he tells it, he introduced himself as a fan at a faculty function," Frank says.

"That's true. He always neglects to mention the part where I had seen an installation of his some months before and been very inspired. I wrote half a book with a painting of his as the background of my computer before I ever met him."

"That's so great," Frank says. God, they're disgustingly cute. "I haven't seen his paintings."

"Well, then we are taking a detour to one of the university galleries," Grant says.

"Well, I won't argue," Frank says.

"Let's turn this way. The closest gallery is over in Henson. He's stunningly good. I think he's in a period of hating the two pieces in Henson, so it's just as well I'm taking you because he wouldn't show you himself."

Henson is quiet at this time of day, and cool. There are quite a few paintings hanging in an alcove, but Frank instantly knows which ones are Gerard's. They are more amazing than Frank was expecting. And judging by the sketchbook and Grant's collages, he was expecting a lot.

At first glance, it looks like a normal painting of a parade, but upon closer inspection the details are fucked-up, weird twisted Bosch-like figures and gas masks and crumbling buildings. Frank reads the placard mounted next to the painting. "'Welcome to the Black Parade,'" he says. "Okay, I can see that." He peers at the other card.

"'Fear and Regret,'" it reads. There are two girls looking straight ahead. Frank feels like they're looking into his soul.

"Fuck," he says. "How could he hate these?"

"He created them just after he got off cocaine. They received quite a bit of attention and then he was hired here and there was a lot of pressure on him and he put a lot on himself. It wasn't a very good time for him. I think it's more that he hates the time period they represent. Someday, I hope he'll show you the one that first caught my eye. He refuses to sell it, not even to me."

"I hope so too," Frank murmurs. He takes a step closer to the paintings as if by getting closer he can step inside them. Or maybe just get into Gerard's brain more.

"He likes you," Grant says after a moment.

"I like him. A lot," Frank replies. "And you."

"You've convinced yourself I don't have fangs, then." Grant smiles.

"Ninety-nine percent certainty. I'd probably have to get up close and personal with your mouth to confirm one hundred percent." He waits half a beat. "But I'm an English professor, not a dentist."

"As you say," Grant replies, casting a bit of a heavy-lidded look over Frank. Frank bites his cheek. Fuck, that's hot. "Shall we move on? Or would you like to see more of the gallery?" Grant asks.

"Let's walk," Frank says. They make their way back outside and walk in the general direction of the Science and Math departments because that's the area Frank is least familiar with. "So, any new novels in the works?" Frank asks.

"Always. I spent a month at my home in Scotland this summer finishing a draft."

"Awesome. Wanna share any details about it?" Frank asks hopefully. Grant chuckles and nudges the back of his hand against Frank's.

"One of the minor characters is based loosely on Gerard as I first met him."

"Goth Sgt. Pepper?"

Grant laughs. "Precisely. Well, with more of a motorcycle-type jacket than military, but otherwise yes. Did he ask you out yet?" Grant asks abruptly.

"Um. No. Why?" Frank asks. He's not...surprised at all, but...

"He will. I'm sure of it. And you - I hope you'll say yes. You would be - good for him."

"I won't," Frank says quietly. "I don't just -"

"You don't just...?"

"I don't do casual. It doesn't work for me. Which means I basically don't date anyone," Frank says. Suddenly he feels very lonely.

"You do friendship, I hope?" Grant says, looking a bit taken aback. Maybe embarrassed.

"Yes," Frank smiles, "I do."

"Good," Grant says. "I apologize if I overstepped. Gerard's general happiness is... well, it's very important to me. And you've clearly heard talk about him from someone. I know he enjoys himself. But I worry. We can all enjoy ourselves, I hope."

"Of course. This is where a lot of the labs are, yeah?" Frank asks as they walk toward a large building on one end of the campus.

"Most, yes. Not the most familiar, myself, except for Brian's lab."

"Brian?" Frank asks. "What's his area?"

"Dr. May is an astrophysicist."

"Oh! Right. I know of him. I saw him on the Discovery Channel, actually. Seems like a cool guy," Frank says.

"He is. And a very gifted guitarist as well. He's kind enough to indulge me with a chat every now and then. And Gerard is particular friends with his lab assistant."

"That's awesome. Physics was fascinating to me, but I could never wrap my head around all those formulas," Frank says.

"We'll stop by sometime. But unfortunately now I have a lecture."

"Are you leaving me here, or coming back to the department with me?" Frank asks.

Grant taps his temple and smiles. "Lecture's all up here. I'll take my leave of you here. Thank you for the walk, Frank."

"Thanks for the talk," Frank murmurs back.

"My pleasure," Grant says and pats his shoulder before setting off across the grass. Frank stands there for a moment just thinking. So it's confirmed that Gerard is interested in him. Grant would know. The thing is, he wants to say yes if Gerard asks. He would have if he hadn't talked to Becky this afternoon. But he's just. Weird and stupid and stubborn about this. Maybe business cards would make this easier. Frank Iero: Thinks you're hot but doesn't do casual.

It would certainly save him from awkward conversations. Except he couldn't give one to Gerard anyway. Because he wants to maintain their friendship. He turns and walks back toward the English department. Maybe someday his own fucking issues won't mess him up.

*

Frank is enjoying himself more than he ever expected to so quickly after moving somewhere new. Even grading papers isn't so bad because more often than not, he does them with Gerard and Grant and somehow it almost gets fun. And Gerard does relent and take Frank to his studio to show him his current work, and if anything would be able to tip Frank over the edge to say yes, it would have been that. But Gerard does. Not. Ask. Frank wonders if Grant tipped him off somehow, except Gerard continues flirting. Frank sort of obsesses about it.

And Grant flirts too. It's not as blatant as Gerard, but he still does it, often with a single, heated look. The kind of look that makes Frank's breath come a little quicker. He's not sure why, because certainly Grant knows the score. But he won't complain. It's too enjoyable.

They have their ghost story night. Gerard tells about the Kline ghost. Those stories are more funny than anything. But then they move on; fuck, Grant is good at storytelling, because Frank's genuinely kind of freaked out. They drink a little too much that night, and Frank starts feeling pleasantly warm rather than chills creeping down his spine. Then he catches Grant and Gerard in the kitchen, doing - well, nothing. But looking like something.

They kind of always look like something, but this is different. This is shiny lips and hands just inches from each other and somehow it makes Frank's chest feel tight. Even though he's always suspected there was something more than friendship between them. And an instant later, there's nothing again. They come back out into Grant's living room and hand Frank a bowl of pretzels and Gerard's teasing Frank for a ghost story and tugging on his hair like... Nothing.

He takes a breath and tells a story. An old Jersey story he's sure Gerard has probably heard, but he only has enough brain for the well-worn sort. The night ends well, but Frank can't get the sight of them out of his head. There's absolutely nothing he can do about any of it. There's no course of action he could take that would work. So he just keeps hanging out with them and flirting back when he's flirted with because that's clearly just how they interact with people.

About halfway through the semester, Grant starts editing his manuscript, and more often than not Frank ends up in his office audiencing changes. It's seriously one of the most surreal and incredible things he's ever done. He studied at Cambridge under some famous authors, but never any he liked as much as Grant. Who had won practically every literary prize he could win. It's the first time it really hits him what it means to have Grant as a mentor. The man has done so much and he's asking for Frank's help. It makes Frank both more and less nervous to ask Grant to read the latest short stories he's been working on.

***

Grant can barely remember a time when Frank and Gerard weren't both fixtures in his office, apartment, favorite pub, and life in general. Frank had been a change to the usual order of things, but Grant and Gerard both adjusted quickly and now Frank's just as much a part of Grant's life as Gerard, except for one thing. Much as Grant might wish to kiss Frank, kisses remain confined to Gerard.

That had come rather as a surprise as well. He hadn't initially expected to feel that way about Frank. He does. Very much. In the sort of way where he'd be willing, ready, to attempt a serious relationship with Frank. But Gerard, who has always been in the back of his mind, is not so much in the back these days. He's managed to slip into a state of being deeply in love without noticing. Grant supposes he's ended up in the same position as Frank after all. They've somehow got caught up in a tangled web and Grant's not sure how to get out. He wonders if Gerard ever did ask Frank out. He supposes he could ask. Perhaps he should.

In the end, he doesn't get a chance. One night, it's just Gerard and him in his apartment because Frank is off conducting a study session with his freshmen. Grant's had just enough alcohol to make turning to look at Gerard where he's sitting on the other end of the end of the couch and saying whatever comes to mind seem like a good idea. "Did you ever ask Frank out?"

Gerard looks over at him a little surprised. "What brought that up?" Gerard asks.

"I want you to be happy, Gerard. Frank seems to make you happy."

"Well, I haven't."

"Why not?" Grant asks, perplexed.

"Because every time I think 'this is the moment, I should ask,' I freeze up. I can't do it. I just... He's not the type I could just have fun with and then forget. He's too...."

"Special?" Grant says. But it hurts a little. "You and I have... fun," he says quietly.

"Yeah," Gerard murmurs. "Except I'm starting to realize that you're too special to just have fun with."

"Am I?" Grant asks.

"Yeah," Gerard says. It's barely even a whisper. He looks entirely too miserable for confessing something that should be joyous. "I wasted so much time. So much of both our time."

"Gerard, I cherish every moment I have the privilege of spending with you. That's not wasted time," Grant murmurs and sets his drink on the coffee table. He moves down the couch and settles close to Gerard.

"It could have been more," Gerard says, grabbing his hand.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps we needed to proceed exactly as we have. Perhaps we needed to let this grow into what it is now," Grant says. He lifts Gerard's hand to his lips. Gerard watches him with big dark eyes. Grant kisses each knuckle, turns it over to kiss the palm. "I don't have words for how much I love you."

"Grant," Gerard says and leans forward, pushing his palm up to Grant's cheek. "So much. I love you so much. I want everything we've always done, but I want more."

"Saying yes to you is nearly always in my best interests. I want more too, Gerard," Grant replies softly.

They finally kiss. It's not the easiest kiss they've ever had - too frantic and full of nervous energy - but maybe that's what makes it perfect. "Can we... I want to touch you for real," Gerard gasps against his lips.

"Bedroom?" Grant asks.

"Yes, please, fuck," Gerard says, twisting his fingers into Grant's shirt. Grant pulls back and stands. He pulls Gerard off the couch and into his arms. Gerard immediately wraps himself around Grant and nuzzles the underside of his jaw. It's familiar. Something Gerard has done countless times before. But it feels different now.

"Come with me," Grant whispers. Gerard has never been in his bedroom. Gerard nods and Grant tugs Gerard down the short hall to the bedroom. He realizes abruptly that he's never seen Gerard naked, either. Not completely. "Want your skin," Grant says and pulls at Gerard's shirt.

"All of it," Gerard says and tries to help. Mostly their hands bump and tangle. Then Grant has to kiss him again. He can't remember the last time he's been so turned on. When his shirt is off, Grant lets his hands wander over Gerard's torso.

"I don't know how I held myself back from this."

"We were so fucking dumb," Gerard says, arching into it.

"Perhaps," he says against Gerard's collarbone and pushes Gerard's jeans down his thighs. "You are so beautiful, pet," he murmurs, sinking to his knees and rubbing his cheek against Gerard's stomach. He curls his fingers in the waist of Gerard's briefs. Gerard runs his hands over Grant's head.

"Oh god, want you so much. Been so long."

"How long has it been, Gerard?"

"Since the last time we..." Gerard trails off when Grant nuzzles against the base of Gerard's cock.

"That was the beginning of the semester," Grant says.

"Yeah,' Gerard breathes. "Been longer since I was fucked."

"Denying yourself, my pet?"

"There was no one who compared to what I felt for you, except for -" Grant just nods. They'll have to talk about it. But tonight is theirs. They deserve it after nearly four and a half years. Grant takes the head of Gerard's cock in his mouth. "Fuck, Grant."

"Yes, Gerard. I intend to," he murmurs, then sucks lightly at the head again.

"God, I love you," Gerard whispers. "Missed your mouth. Kept wanting to ask you for more than kisses."

"I believe I might have sold my soul to have the chance to suck you again."

"Good thing you don't have to," Gerard whispers. He moans when Grant runs his tongue over the slit of his cock. "Oh god, Grant. I need. Bed." Grant holds onto Gerard's hips and stands.

"Shall I undress first?" he teases, stroking his thumbs over Gerard's hipbones.

"Please," Gerard says and reaches for the buttons of Grant's shirt. Grant gets the cuffs and his shirt drops to the floor. Gerard traces over Grant's collarbone, down his sternum, and over his belly to the button of his trousers. "Couldn't stop thinking about your cock," he whispers, popping the button. "Need you to fuck me so bad."

Grant pushes his trousers and briefs down his thighs and steps out of them before he grabs Gerard's hips again and pulls him against Grant. "I find myself rather desperate for that as well. Get on the bed, pet," Grant says, but he steers Gerard there himself, guiding him back against the pillows and kissing his way up Gerard's chest and throat. Gerard slides his arms around Grant's neck, holds him tight, and his legs go around Grant's thighs.

"Love the feel of you against me," Gerard whispers. Grant sucks a mark into his throat and slowly moves his hips.

"Good, because I am not letting you go."

They stay like that for a long time, just kissing and grinding against each other. Until Gerard begs, "Please fuck me now. Can't wait another second."

"You'll have to," Grant murmurs, leaning over to his bedside table for lube and a condom. He slicks his fingers and urges Gerard to spread his legs. He does, wantonly and biting his lip. Grant strokes down his thigh and presses in a finger. Gerard moans and thrusts against Grant's hand. "So needy," Grant whispers and gives him another finger.

"Because you're not fucking me," Gerard complains.

"I thought I'd need to open you up, pet, but perhaps I don't? Have you been playing?"

"Yes," Gerard replies. "Thinking about you every night for a week. Need you for real."

Grant closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "What happened a week ago?"

"It was. Nothing that hasn't happened a thousand times before. We were walking and I tripped and you grabbed my hips to steady me and. I didn't want you to let go. Then that night I didn't want to leave your apartment. So I closed my eyes and pretended to fall asleep on the couch," Gerard explains.

"I remember that," Grant says, opening a condom and gritting his teeth to roll it on. "You looked so beautiful."

"And then I fell asleep for real and woke up under a blanket at two am wanting nothing more than to come in here and get in bed with you and I was still too chickenshit to do it," he whispers. "Please, Grant."

"Always," Grant answers, lining up and pushing in, one smooth slow motion. God, it's good. He has to clench his jaw and stop for a moment. Gerard clings to him and pants in his ear.

"Oh god, Grant. Perfect. Fuck, you feel so good."

"As do you," Grant murmurs. When Gerard clenches around him, Grant finally starts moving with slow, steady thrusts. "Love you," he gasps. "You are mine now, pet."

"Yes," Gerard moans and wraps a hand around the back of Grant's neck and leans up to kiss him. "Always, always wanted you," he says, pushing his hips up into Grant's thrusts. "Thought your friendship and the occasional kiss would be enough. So wrong."

Grant leans his forehead against Gerard's chest and thrusts hard. He whispers endearments and praise into Gerard's skin. "You feel amazing," he says. "I can't last nearly as long as I want, pet."

"Not leaving this bed," Gerard tells him. Grant twines his fingers, both hands, in Gerard's hair. He presses his mouth against Gerard's and thrusts twice more and comes hard, moaning into Gerard's mouth. He leans up as soon as he can and wraps a hand around Gerard's cock. It only takes a stroke with a twist of his thumb around the head and Gerard comes too, clenching around Grant. It's too much, but he doesn't care.

Gerard tugs him back down immediately, pressing them back together heedless of the mess. Grant lifts off him just far enough to pull out. Gerard moans and Grant squeezes him tightly in his arms. "Gerard," he whispers. Gerard just kisses him again, holding his head and kissing until Grant feels dizzy with it, until he's sure he's too heavy, but Gerard refuses to let go.

"Don't wanna stop holding you. Too many times I did when I didn't want to," Gerard murmurs.

It's too early for bed, but Grant pretty much agrees with the sentiment. "Clean up, pajamas, couch?" he offers. "I'll lend you some. I think I will like seeing you in them," he purrs. Gerard smiles.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

They get up and help each other get clean in the bathroom, running damp flannels over each other. Gerard pulls on the too-long pajamas Grant hands him and looks disheveled and adorable. Grant has to pull him in for a quick kiss before they go back to the living room. "I love the way you look."

"In your clothes?" Gerard asks.

"In them, out of them. In my bed. In my apartment. Everywhere." Grant picks up the remote and turns on the sound system. Grant sits on the couch and pulls Gerard down between his legs. Gerard settles back against his chest and Grant wraps his arms around Gerard's waist.

"I... your friendship means so much to me. I was so afraid of ruining that, I couldn't even think about how much I wanted this for the longest time," Gerard says with his face turned against Grant's neck.

"Neither could I," Grant says into his temple. "Not at first. There were other distractions, too. Other partners, even after the first time we kissed. And I promise I never begrudged you yours. But I just couldn't pretend anymore. Not after those first few years."

"I love you," Gerard whispers.

"And I you," Grant replies. They sit like that for a long time, talking quietly. And then Gerard starts to giggle. "Yes, pet?"

"Just imagining everyone's reactions. They won't believe we weren't together already. "

"It's true," Grant says, not without a measure of satisfaction.

*

It's a Friday morning and Frank is off at class. Grant has the door mostly closed except for a crack. Grant has Gerard pressed against the bookshelves out of view of the door. He's not worried because everyone knocks except Frank and Frank isn't due back for half an hour.

"When I said I wanted more," Grant murmurs against Gerard's jaw, "I meant that I want us to be together. Officially. In case I hadn't made that clear."

"Yes, please, make an honest man of me," Gerard drawls, rolling his hips teasingly. Grant laughs and leans in to kiss him properly when he hears a noise at the door.

He leans back enough to see Frank, pushing the panel open but clinging to the doorknob. It's pretty clear he overheard, but instead of the expected joke, or just ignoring it, or...anything, he just says in a dead-sounding voice, "I see how it is. Don't worry, I know when I'm in the way," and turns and walks back out.

Gerard looks stricken. He hunches his shoulders and tucks in on himself. Grant goes to the doorway and calls Frank's name, but Frank disappears out the main department door.

They don't hear from or see Frank the rest of the day. His phone goes directly to voice mail when they try to call. They have a standing Friday night dinner together and when doesn't appear, Gerard looks close to tears and Grant's stomach feels as if it's full of lead. "We need to go over there," Gerard says. Grant nods.

"Yes. Shall we go now?"

"Yeah. I can't... eating isn't happening anyway," Gerard replies. Gerard sounds confused, or at least like he is trying to convince himself he's confused. Grant is pretty sure he knows what the problem is. Grant calls over their waiter and they pay for the drinks they ordered while they waited for Frank and then go to Frank's place.

They ring the bell and wait. It goes long enough that Grant looks at Gerard with a raised eyebrow. Gerard leans forward to ring the bell again when Frank opens the door. He looks terrible. His hair is mashed on one side of his head and he's wearing flannel pajamas - which is adorable, or it would be, if he didn't also look both feverish and very, very angry.

"Frankie," Gerard starts, but Frank cuts him off.

"Listen, I'm sick and I had a really fucking shitty day. So can we not right now? Or maybe ever."

"Frank, please," Gerard begs, stepping forward like he thinks Frank is about to close the door. Frank gives both of them a hard look, but steps out from directly in front of the door and gestures for them to come inside. Grant suspects it's more because he's too sick and tired to argue right there on the doorstep, not that he genuinely wants them to come inside his apartment. He turns his back on them and goes into the kitchen and starts filling his teapot.

"Let me," Grant says gently and holds out his hands for the pot. Frank just sighs and lets Grant take it. He listens as Frank sinks into a kitchen chair.

"Frankie, do you have meds?" Gerard asks quietly.

"Of fucking course I have meds," Frank grumbles.

"Can I get them for you? Where are they?" Gerard asks patiently.

"Bathroom," Frank mutters. "I took them, though, only a couple - a while - I took them."

Gerard reaches out to test his forehead, frowning when Frank flinches. "Frank," he murmurs. Frank just looks away.

The water boils and Grant flips off the switch and pours it into the mug with tea bag already waiting. Clearly this is what they interrupted Frank doing. There's a bear half full of honey sitting nearby. "Lemon?" Grant asks.

"Fridge," Frank says hoarsely. Grant sets the cup in front of Frank, then reaches out deliberately and runs his fingers through Frank's tangled fringe. Frank closes his eyes this time.

"Thank you, but please leave now," he says, voice tightly controlled. Grant sinks to his knees on the linoleum next to Frank.

"Frank," he whispers.

"This is why I don't do casual. I shouldn't have let myself even... this is why." Frank grips the mug tightly and looks steadily away from both of them. "I let myself get my hopes up," he says in a low, dull voice. "That maybe I'd be enough to...." Grant doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to reassure Frank in any way. "And I know that was stupid. What you two have together has clearly been a long time coming. And I can't... please just leave."

Grant looks up at Gerard, who's literally frozen, a look of shocked distress on his face. "Frankie," Gerard finally says. "We can't...I..."

"Please leave." Frank sounds desperate now. "I can't deal with this now. Not when I'm sick."

"Fine," Gerard snaps, shifting to temper in a heartbeat. He turns on his heel and stalks out.

Grant doesn't move. "Gerard and I made a decision about each other," he murmurs. "But why does that decision have to automatically exclude you?"

"Because I let myself get my hopes up," Frank repeats. "I'm asking you to give me time. Let me get used to it, then we can be - friends again -" he trails off into a coughing fit. Grant rubs Frank's back.

"About me? About him?" he asks.

"Both," Frank says miserably.

"I see," Grant says gently. "I'm going to leave now," he continues, "because you asked, and because Gerard is upset. But I am going to come back tomorrow. I am not ignoring this, or you."

"Gerard?" Frank whispers sorrowfully.

"Makes his own decisions," Grant warns him.

Frank takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I should be happy for you both. I just... can't."

"I'll let you get some rest," Grant says and gets to his feet. When he opens the door to Frank's apartment, Gerard is leaning against the opposite wall, his eyes screwed shut as if he's trying desperately not to cry.

"What did I do?" he says raggedly.

"We both did it," Grant says with a heavy sigh and leans against the wall beside Gerard. "Frank doesn't date, but I forgot - and I believe he did too - that that doesn't guarantee he won't still have feelings. The flirtation, it was friendly, but -"

"Oh," Gerard says quietly. "So we... led him on and then..."

"I don't think he had thought much about what he actually wanted. But we snatched even the dream away from him," Grant says.

"No," Gerard says, starting back toward Frank's door. Grant grabs his wrist.

"He asked us to leave, and I promised we would."

"But-"

"No. He's sick and hurting and at this moment just wants to be alone. I told him I'd come back tomorrow. That I wouldn't ignore him or this. You can join me. For now, let's just go," Grant says.

Gerard nods and they walk outside. "What, exactly, are you planning on doing tomorrow?"

"I haven't decided, exactly. But I cannot leave it like this," Grant says.

"I didn't know. That Frank doesn't date. How do you know?" Gerard asks. "Did you have a conversation I maybe should have known about?"

"I... we did. It was... lord, it was all the way back in the second week of classes. I asked if you'd asked him out yet and encouraged him to say yes if you did."

"And he said -"

"That he wants a serious relationship, and he hasn't found the right one yet. Pet -" Grant can see Gerard getting agitated - "In all the years I've known you, you've never dated anyone longer than a few weeks."

"What about you?"

"I was in love with you, a fact that seems to have escaped no one but you. We never called it anything."

"And you told him that I - that I don't - Didn't even give me a chance to show him I could?" Gerard sounds angry now.

"He heard a bit of gossip from someone else," Grant replies. "And you didn't ask him, so it's a moot point. You sound, Gerard, rather like you want to get serious with Frank," Grant points out.

Gerard takes a deep breath. "Grant, I love you and I want to be with you. I... it's not fair. We were supposed to have more than a week of happiness before it got this hard."

"Come home with me," Grant says. "I'll cook you dinner and spend the rest of the night making love to you however you'd like. That is the best I can do at the moment, pet."

Gerard nods, pulls Grant's arm around him, and they set off. "You never said... you flirted with him too. What... how do you feel about him?" Gerard asks after they've walked a few blocks in silence.

"Frank is complicated, and fascinating, and gorgeous. And given my absolute inability to think about anything but you for the past year or more... I never let myself get to the point where I'd need to make a decision. Which was unfair, perhaps."

"But you like him?" Gerard asks.

"It would be very, very easy for me to fall for him completely, yes," Grant answers.

The topic goes on moratorium when they reach Grant's apartment, and he cooks dinner for them both - something rich and simple and Scottish. "Comfort food?" Gerard asks with a small smile. Grant looks down at his plate.

"Yes, I suppose it is. I apologize for not having some of your comfort foods on hand."

Gerard lifts his mug of coffee. "This works. Grant," he says softly after a few bites, "I love you."

Grant smiles and his stomach flips. He reaches across the table and squeezes Gerard's wrist. "And I love you, pet."

"Just didn't want you to forget."

"Not a single chance," Grant tells him. They eat and finish their coffee and Gerard helps clean up. Grant crowds him against the sink and kisses him soundly. "I promised. Whatever you want, Gerard. Tell me."

Gerard's hands flex where he's gripping Grant's shoulders. "Want so many things. I... god."

Grant laughs and kisses across his neck. "I'm going to do this while you think about it," Grant murmurs in his ear.

"As if I'll be able to think like that," Gerard gasps out. Grant just runs his teeth down the column of Gerard's throat. "Suck me," Gerard finally says. "While you finger me. Start there, anyway."

"I can do that. What next, pet?"

"Oh god. Want you to fuck me again. From behind this time."

"I can do that, too. And what will you do for me, Gerard?" he asks, stroking his fingers up and down Gerard's chest.

"I wanna suck you too. See how much I can take. And touch you. All over. Memorize your skin."

"Yes, I like the sound of that. Now?"

"Please, now," Gerard begs. And Grant couldn't resist that if he tried.

*

Grant wakes up the next morning with Gerard in his arms. He's glad it's Saturday, glad he can take the time to study Gerard's bare skin in the sunlight streaming through his bedroom window. The sunlight picks up strands of silver hidden in Gerard's messy brown hair. They make Grant smile. Grant hadn't known what to expect when Gerard stopped fucking around with his hair. The profoundly normal shade of brown that had peeked through and eventually grown out had seemed strange at first. Almost not quite right. But now Grant can hardly imagine Gerard with anything but his brown and silver hair. And his unlined face, of course. Still a baby, Grant thinks, but mine.

He strokes a hand through Gerard's hair and cups his face. Everything feels almost perfect. Except for the small voice in his head reminding him of Frank.

"Why are you awake?" Gerard mutters.

"Because the sun shone in my eyes and then I looked at you," Grant replies.

"And you got confused?" Gerard teases.

"And I couldn't quite believe my luck," Grant counters and kisses his forehead.

"Wanna get luckier?" Gerard kisses Grant's shoulder.

"I'm sure I could be persuaded," Grant replies and tugs Gerard fully on top of him. They kiss and touch and move together, slow and lazy, until they're frantic to bring each other off, and come gasping and moaning.

"Now coffee," Gerard says quietly. "And...Frank."

"Yes," Grant replies. "To both. We should probably speak about what we intend to say to Frank over the coffee."

They get up and Grant coaxes Gerard into the shower with him and then he fixes toast and coffee. They sit at Grant's little table and Gerard fiddles with the edge of his plate.

"Talk to me," Grant urges.

"Grant, I… I couldn't choose. Couldn't pick him and not you. And now that I have you I couldn't ever fucking let you go," Gerard murmurs.

"What if I don't make you choose? I never have before," Grant points out.

"And what about you?" Gerard asks. "He likes you too."

"Well, it would be unfair to ask him to choose either."

"Oh," Gerard says. "Oh."

"I think the three of us do rather well together. It'd be a shame not to explore it further," Grant says.

"Just out of curiosity, is it also unfair to make you choose?" Gerard asks with a hint of a smile.

"Obviously," Grant replies and draws Gerard's hand to his mouth. "I told him I'd come back; are you coming with me, pet?"

"Yeah. Maybe we should stop at the deli and get him some of that vegetable soup he likes?" Gerard asks.

"Of course," Grant says. "Are you - shall we go?"

"Yeah, let's go," Gerard says and drains the rest of his coffee. Grant stands and runs his fingers through Gerard's hair.

"Whatever happens, I love you dearly," Grant says.

"I love you too," Gerard says, leaning in. They share one more kiss before going out to see what the future holds.

***

Frank is fucking miserable. Being sick would suck by itself. But everything else is just… the universe must be fucking with him. That's the only fucking explanation. He'd settled into things - the way things are. Were. Being with Gerard and Grant had kindled a fire in his belly more often than not, but it had been... harmless.

What he'd seen in Grant's office... That wasn't harmless. Has this always been going on? Is he so deluded? But no, Grant had said they weren't. Encouraged Frank to say yes if Gerard asked. But had something happened in the interim and they just… didn't tell him?

He'd said he wasn't interested, so why does he feel betrayed? "Fucking ridiculous," he sighs. Because he's been falling for them. Through every grading session, every meal, every single minute he spent with either of them. It's been months now, and he just refused to pay attention to his own fucking emotions.

Today, he's too tired to hold back. But he's also too tired to get worked up. He doesn't know what he'll do if Grant shows up like he promised. He's tempted to just not answer the door. He suspects Grant would wait him out.

He's got some stupid Discovery Channel documentary playing and he's curled up on the couch feeling completely miserable when there's a knock on the door. He sighs. He doesn't have the fucking energy.

"Thought you were blowing smoke," he grumbles when he opens the door. Then he sees Gerard behind Grant. He swallows and it fucking hurts to swallow, so he scowls too. "Come in, I guess."

"Are you hungry? We brought you your favorite soup," Gerard says.

"Why are you so goddamn…" he trails off and rubs his hands over his face. "Not right now. Just ate. But later. Thank you."

"Well, then, tell us what you need. Meds? Laundry? Dishes?"

Frank cuts him off with a laugh. "What do I need, huh."

"Frank," Grant says gently. "Let us help you."

"Got a spare immune system?" Frank asks.

"Fresh out. But we have hands that can work if you need anything done," Grant replies.

"Don't you think they've done enough?" Frank grumbles. Fuck pride; he goes back to the couch and burrows under his blankets again.

Gerard disappears into his kitchen and Frank hears the tell-take clink of dishes being put in the dishwasher. Grant straightens up his living room. After a few moments, he sits in the armchair. "Frank, there is very little that could be considered doing 'enough' when you are involved."

Frank curls up tighter. "That so?"

Grant sighs. "You should know that… Gerard and I are new. This isn't something we've been hiding from you."

"That's good, because you're apparently fucking bad at hiding."

"We weren't particularly trying to hide from you," Grant replies. "Though perhaps it would have been nice to tell you, rather than have you walk in on it."

It's Frank's turn to sigh. "I just wanted… I was so miserable and all I wanted was to sit on your couch and breathe for a little bit."

"You should have stayed for that."

Frank shakes his head. "I couldn't… I. I'm so bad at this shit."

Gerard comes back and ignores the rest of Frank's furniture to settle onto the couch at his side. "What shit, Frankie?"

"All of it," Frank croaks. Gerard is so close and fuck, Frank wants nothing more than to turn and curl up against him. He's fucking pathetic.

"Frank -" He looks up. Gerard sets a hand on his shoulder and tugs. "I don't care if you're bad at it. You get it anyway." Frank can't hold back the sigh of relief when he's settled against Gerard's side. Gerard wraps an arm around his shoulders and his lips brush Frank's temple. "You are so, so...."

"Pathetic?" Frank rasps.

"Wanted," Gerard whispers, touching Frank's chin.

"Don't," Frank begs and tries to sit up again. "That's not… please, don't."

Gerard drops his hand. "Fine," he murmurs. "If that's what you want."

Frank shoves his hands into his hair. "I fucking want a lot of things that I can't fucking have. Teasing me with them is--"

"You can have anything you want."

Frank turns his head to look at Grant. "I need you to… please say what you mean in plain language, because my head is killing me and I don't understand. Spell it out for me like I'm a fucking freshman who doesn't know jack," Frank finally says.

"I want you," Gerard replies. "Grant wants you."

"And what the fuck does that mean, exactly?" Frank asks. His heart is pounding and his breath is short and it's only partly because of his cold.

"We never wanted to leave you out, gorgeous," Grant murmurs.

"So you're not dickheads like seventy percent of my other friends when they start dating someone. Congratulations," Frank says.

"You're doing that on purpose," Gerard replies, sounding annoyed. "We want to be dating you."

Frank closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "I needed you to say it," Frank murmurs.

"You told Grant you don't date!" Gerard exclaims.

"I told him I don't do casual. Which is just as good as not dating," Frank says tiredly.

Grant slides off the chair, kneels by the couch. "Trust me, gorgeous, there is nothing casual about this." Frank swallows hard and it hurts like hell again and he grimaces. Grant's face falls.

"No. I… my throat. Hurts. You're serious?"

"Oh yes," Grant breathes, accent more pronounced than normal.

"Frankie," Gerard murmurs beside him. "So very serious."

He breathes in to reply, then has to cough for a while. Once he's had a sip of water, he says, "Guess I owe you both an apology for yesterday, then."

"No," Gerard insists. "If it were me in your place, I'd probably have done worse."

Frank has to smile. That, he believes. "We wouldn't be us without you," Grant says. "Not anymore. I think Gerard and I needed to meet you before we could sort out our feelings for each other."

And there's the look he knows - the utter adoration. Something's fluttering in his chest, though. He thinks - this is - "You want me, for real. For good."

"Frankie. Yes," Gerard says. "For real and for good."

Grant nods up at him and Frank swallows again. And then curses. "You had to do this when I'm sick?"

"Not our fault you have the immune system of a consumptive maiden," Gerard teases.

"Fuck you," Frank grumbles and leans heavily against Gerard's side.

"Later, gorgeous," Grant tells him and squeezes onto the couch with them.

Frank whines. "Unfair."

Grant gently rubs a hand over Frank's back. "We'll just have to make it up to you by taking care of you until you're well enough to really make it up to you. First order of business being canceling your Monday classes."

Frank frowns, but he knows Grant's right. If he pushes it, he might lose his voice too. Frank points and Grant picks up his phone and hands it to him. He loads the school email and dutifully sends a quick email to each of his class contact groups and slumps back down. It's really fucking nice to have someone to lean against.

"Good boy," Grant tells him. "Next order of business, let Gerard pick out a movie for you to fall asleep to."

"Something bloody," Frank says. "Don't care otherwise."

"Sounds restful," Grant murmurs. Gerard's already across the room muttering to himself. Grant tips Frank's chin up and ghosts a kiss over his lips. Frank sucks in a breath and nuzzles against Grant's cheek. Being sick sucks, but fuck, he likes the things he can have a helluva lot.

Gerard comes back and sprawls over the remainder of the couch, pushing his head against Frank's hand like a fucking cat. Frank obediently starts playing with his hair. It's kind of ridiculous the difference half an hour can make. He's still sick and miserable, but it's so much fucking better.

*

By Wednesday afternoon Frank actually has felt good enough to wade through the pile of homework his TA had dropped off with Grant, and he's cleaned his apartment, and even gone to the little corner market and restocked his pantry. Grant and Gerard are coming over after their classes are done for the day and Frank can't fucking wait. They've been over every day, of course, but he can breathe properly today. And if he can breathe properly, you'd better fucking believe there are some other overdue things that he's going to do.

When he hears the knock on the door, he shoots off the couch to answer it. Grant's in front and Frank twines his arms around his neck and pulls him inside. "Enthusiastic," Grant laughs.

"I've got all sorts of enthusiasm," Frank says and presses his lips to Grant's. Grant and Gerard have both kissed him a few times, fleetingly, but Frank means business this time. Grant smiles against his lips and kisses back. Frank reaches out blindly and fists a hand in Gerard's shirt. He doesn't want him going far.

"I want some enthusiasm," Gerard murmurs, curling a hand around Frank's waist. Frank turns his head and Gerard starts kissing him, tongue sliding insistently along his bottom lip. Frank moans and opens his mouth. Fuck, it feels so good. He grasps a handful of Gerard's hair and holds him in place. Grant's hands are still on his waist and Frank can't get enough of either of them.

"You must feel better," Grant whispers in his ear.

"I feel kind of great, comparatively," Frank replies against Gerard's lips. "I even managed to accomplish things before you got here."

"Is one of them dinner? It smells really fucking good in here," Gerard says, dipping his head to nibble at Frank's neck.

"Mmmmyes," Frank slurs. "Dinner is in the oven."

"So we should probably be good and wait, huh?" Gerard asks a little bit sadly.

"Depends if you like burnt vegetables." Frank sighs as Gerard slides a hand over his stomach under his shirts.

"Not really my favorite," Gerard says.

"Nor mine," Grant adds. "Food, and then perhaps we can… see to our other needs."

"I have wine open on the counter," Frank offers. Both make appreciative noises, but neither of them move, which makes Frank laugh breathlessly. He finally pulls back himself. "Well, I want a glass." He pours three.

Frank sips his wine and looks at them both for a minute. He likes having them here. Always has. But it's even better now. Gerard has switched from groping Frank to the apparent continuation of a conversation from earlier, in which he wheedles permission to see the next chapter of Grant's latest novel. Frank obviously has to get in on this and within five minutes, Grant has relented with a laugh. "I'm never going to keep anything as a surprise for either if you get again, am I?"

"No," Frank says. "Now go sit down for dinner." Grant listens, but not before he tugs Frank close for a wine-flavored kiss. The wine is making Frank feel warm and even fucking happier and he leans into the kiss before pulling away with a grin.

He gets the food onto the table and they eat; Gerard and Grant fill him in on departmental gossip and it's fucking hilarious because Pete is involved. "You look happy," Gerard says after a while.

"I am happy," Frank says. "Really happy."

Grant reaches over and squeezes his hand. "Good."

"It's just.…" Frank takes a deep breath. "This is special to me."

"This?"

"Cooking for you, having you around my table. I - it's -" Grant squeezes again and gives him a "go on" sort of look. "It's not something I've had much," Frank says quietly.

"We haven't either," Gerard adds. "But now -"

"Like, ever," Frank says.

"Oh," Gerard murmurs. "Frank, you've had - boyfriends, right? Or girlfriends?"

"Um. I had a girlfriend in high school. A few hookups through college and grad school," Frank says and downs a big gulp of wine.

"Christ," Grant breathes.

Frank makes a face. "And by few, I really mean few. I told you I don't--"

"We get the idea." Gerard's eyes are shining with - pretty much with pure depraved joy, Frank thinks. "I hope you didn't have dessert made, Frank."

"No, no dessert," Frank says.

"Good," Gerard replies and pushes away from the table. Grant's still sipping his last glass of wine, and grinning at them both. Gerard tugs Frank up and out of his own chair and into his arms. Frank swallows down the awkwardness induced by his little confession and slides his own arms around Gerard's waist. "I've wanted you since I laid eyes on you," Gerard tells him matter-of-factly. Frank smiles.

"Well, now you have me. What are you going to do with me?"

"We're going to take a little walk," Gerard smiles.

"I hope that sentence ends, 'to the bedroom,' because otherwise I might have to stage a protest," Frank replies.

"Unless you want to fuck right here. I am flexible."

Frank laughs. "Maybe some other time. Bed sounds good."

"Extremely." Grant drains his glass and stands. Frank's stomach flips over. Fuck, he's wanted this so long. Gerard tows him down the hall before he can freeze.

They get into his bedroom and Grant crowds up against his back, hands on his hips. Frank leans back against him and stretches up to press his lips to Grant's neck. Grant makes an appreciative noise and cups his hand over Frank's throat.

Frank gasps, and Gerard moves in to kiss down his jaw and over Grant's hand. He teases his tongue between Grant's fingers until Grant grasps his chin and tugs him up to kiss him properly. Frank's pressed tight between them and not at all unhappy about it. He can feel how hard Grant is at his back and Gerard at his front and he thinks maybe he could stay like this for a long time. Could probably come like this, actually. He wriggles experimentally and Grant squeezes his hip and pulls back to whisper in his ear.

"Watch this. Gerard, strip," he orders.

Gerard looks at them both and slowly starts removing his clothing. He takes care with each piece, but it's somehow not ridiculous at all. It's completely, impossibly sexy and Frank wants to lick every millimeter of skin he reveals.

He whimpers. Grant, who's still holding him, whispers, "What is it, gorgeous?"

"He's so fucking… wanna touch him," Frank breathes.

"So come do it," Gerard invites, posing. Frank laughs and pulls out of Grant's grip and moves forward. He skims his fingers over Gerard's shoulders and down his arms.

"You're so gorgeous," Frank tells him. Gerard beams at him.

"So are you. You're also wearing way too many clothes."

"How is that different than usual?" Grant murmurs.

"Well, personally, I think he wears the perfect amount of clothes at the school. The kids would eat him alive," Gerard responds.

Frank laughs and pulls his hoodie off. "Not a chance. I had my eye on a different target." Gerard grins and reaches out to play with the hem if Frank's shirt.

"Did you now?"

"Didn't think I'd have my hands on it too," Frank says, reaching down and getting a handful of Gerard's - really fucking nice - ass.

Gerard bites his lip over a smile. "Use your hands all you want. And your mouth, if you feel moved to. You know. Whatever."

Frank keeps taking off clothing, taking the opportunity to rub up against Grant. Grant makes the best little satisfied noises and uses his hands to grab hold of Frank's hips, slide over his back, stroke through his hair. "You need to get naked too," Frank tells him.

"Some assistance would be nice," Grant purrs. Frank steps out of his jeans and turns around to face Grant again. He slides his hands in under Grant's jacket and presses close.

"I was flirting with you that first day, you know," he whispers. He feels Grant's laugh directly in his chest.

"I'd hoped you were. Though I wasn't sure if you liked me," Grant continues, helping Frank take his t-shirt off.

Frank grins. "I couldn't very well let you see how terrified I was, could I?"

"Guess not."

Frank tips his head up and lets Grant kiss him, running his hands up Grant's bare chest. Grant's kisses make Frank feel dizzy and Gerard moving against his back makes him moan. He lets Gerard tug him back onto the bed as Grant strips the rest of his clothing. Fuck, having Gerard's skin against his all the way down his body is good, and so are Gerard's lips exploring his neck.

Grant pushes his briefs down and Frank moans at the sight of his cock. "Yeah," Gerard breathes in Frank's ear. "Do you like to be fucked, Frankie?"

"Yes," Frank gasps. "Fuck yes."

"Then we'll be sure to give you that," Grant says. He moves closer, kneels on the edge of the mattress and leans down for a kiss. Frank wraps a hand around the back of Grant's neck.

"Closer," he says. Demands, really. Grant chuckles against his lips and stretches out full-length against him. "That's better," Frank mutters and throws a leg over Grant's. They're pressed against him again, skin to skin this time, warm, insistent. He can hardly breathe, suddenly. Everything is almost too good. Too wonderful.

"We used to get drunk, get high, and kiss," Gerard murmurs. "When we were - before we -"

"Endless nights of kissing," Grant adds. "And as nice as they were, I'm ready for this night to...progress."

"I fucking love progress," Frank says. That's kind of a lie on at least one level, but not the one where they're in bed and about to fuck. Grant leans over and kisses Gerard, then returns to Frank and lets his lips wander down his neck and chest, and Frank strokes his fingers over Grant's scalp.

Gerard presses closer and winds his fingers in Frank's hair, kissing his shoulder and neck. He's let it grow out a bit over the semester and there's plenty for Gerard to hold on to. Especially when Frank rolls his hips back against Gerard's cock.

Gerard gasps and grabs his hip. "Fuck, fuck."

Frank laughs against Grant's lips. "Just think what my mouth would do. Should I give him something else to swear about?"

"Yes," Gerard begs. "Please, c'mon. Want you so much."

Frank rolls over and prods at him until he's leaning up against the headboard, then slides down to mouth at his stomach and hipbones. He's only done this a few times and it's been a while, so he's a tiny bit nervous, but mostly he can hardly wait to get Gerard's cock in his mouth. Gerard is whimpering already, grasping at Grant's hand. Frank takes a breath and licks up the underside of Gerard's cock. Gerard's hips twitch up, but he stills.

Frank looks up to see him biting down on his lip and watching Frank intently. Frank smiles and leans in to lick again, then up over and around the head. He'd forgotten how fucking much he likes this. Likes the taste, the sounds, the reactions he gets. He sinks down, taking Gerard's cock fully into his mouth. That gets the cursing he was expecting. He would smile, but - he just starts sucking instead.

Gerard shoves his fingers into Frank's hair and holds on tight. "Fuck, Frankie," he moans. Frank just keeps going, and he zones out enough that Grant running his fingers down Frank's spine makes him jump and whine. Grant laughs quietly.

"I think I startled him, pet."

"I think he just wants more," Gerard murmurs. Frank moans. Fuck yes he wants more. So much more.

The bed shifts. Grant's going for the lube Frank had hopefully left on the nightstand. He listens to Grant's movements as he swirls his tongue around the head of Gerard's cock. The click of the cap makes Frank make a pleased noise. Grant has really, really gorgeous hands. Frank has always thought so. Grading papers with him was always an exercise in his ability to not get distracted.

Speaking of hands... he wraps a hand around the base of Gerard's cock so he can stroke while he mouths the head. Gerard is moaning and he's clearly to the point that he can't keep his hips still. Frank relaxes his throat as much as he can and moves with him.

Grant runs a hand over his ass and Frank breathes in hard through his nose. He pauses and shifts, bringing his knees up so he's kneeling and giving Grant better access. "Yes, gorgeous," Grant murmurs. "You're so perfect." His fingers trace down Frank's ass and over his entrance and Frank moans around Gerard's cock.

Grant pushes in with a lubed finger at the same time as Gerard moans and thrusts upward, fingers tugging at Frank's hair. Frank only just manages not to choke, but he catches his breath and keeps sucking. Grant thrusts his finger slowly and fuck, it's so damn good.

"So tight," he murmurs. "I can see your thighs shaking. Do you want me, Frankie?" Frank just moans and keeps sucking. "Do you want Gerard? Want him to come in your mouth?"

Gerard groans Frank's name, and Frank nods. Yes, fuck yes, he wants it. Gerard's hips stutter up and Frank swallows around him. "Fuck, Frankie. So good. So fucking good. Been thinking about your mouth so long."

"Come for him, pet, I want to watch," Grant murmurs, pushing another finger inside Frank. Frank moans low in his throat and keeps sucking until Gerard is gasping for air and thrusting his hips. Frank opens his eyes and watches his face, watches him bite his lip and moan as he starts to come. He can feel it, the throb and the rush and the warm flood in his mouth, and he swallows, then pulls back far enough to lick the last sticky drops off of Gerard's cock.

"Oh god, Frankie," Gerard moans. "So fucking good." Frank smiles and then gasps when Grant gives him a third finger. "Come up here," Gerard urges him, tugging at his shoulders.

Frank pushes up toward him and gasps when Grant's fingers leave him, but ohhh fuck, Gerard's lips against his almost make up for it. Grant's grip on his hips as he kneels behind Frank definitely makes up for it.

Grant leans over his back to whisper in his ear. "Are you ready for me?"

"Yes," Frank moans hoarsely against Gerard's lips. "Want you so much."

Frank hears the rustle of a condom wrapper, then, "All right then, deep breath." Frank obeys, and he feels the blunt head of Grant's cock press against him as Gerard presses tiny kisses over his cheeks and chin and the corners of Frank's mouth.

"Please," he moans, and Grant sweeps his hand back and forth over the small of Frank's back as he slowly pushes inside.

Frank pants against Gerard's cheek, holding himself steady. Gerard rubs his shoulders in gentle circles as Grant slides in. It's slow and everything Frank has been wanting for months. "Frank," Grant breathes, sounding as wrecked as Frank feels, "that's so - are you -"

"Keep going," Frank whispers.

Grant keeps pushing forward and bends over Frank's back when he's all the way inside. "Frank," he moans.

Gerard kisses Frank's bicep and reaches down to wrap a hand around his cock. "I think he's ready."

"Yes," Frank gasps. "Please. Fuck me."

Grant kisses Frank's shoulder and starts moving his hips. Frank can barely think for the sparks shooting through his veins. Gerard's lips find his and his tongue slides into Frank's mouth and between the two of them, he's pretty sure this is going to be over soon. He closes his eyes and moves with them both until he can't hold back any more. He comes hard into Gerard's fingers, against his belly and thighs. Grant lets out a groan against his shoulder and starts thrusting harder.

Frank gasps for air and concentrates on the feel of Grant's cock, on where his fingers are biting into Frank's hips. "Grant," he moans. "Come for me."

"For you, gorgeous, for you," Grant replies and groans, pumping his hips a few more times. His fingers tighten and he moans Frank's name brokenly.

He wishes he could see Grant's face, but watching Gerard watch Grant is almost as good. When Grant finally lets out a long breath and pulls out, Frank whimpers and collapses on Gerard. Grant curls himself around them as soon as he gets rid of the condom.

Frank turns so they can kiss, and Grant wraps his arms around Frank and pulls him close. Frank sighs happily into his mouth and cups the back of his head to hold him. Gerard curls around his back and kisses the back of his neck.

This. This is everything, he thinks. Fuck, he feels good. Everything feels good. He stops counting minutes, counts kisses instead. He loses count after a while, and smiles against Grant's mouth.

***

Eight Months Later

Gerard comes out of his last class to find Frank leaning against the wall opposite the door. "I was in the neighborhood," Frank says with a smile. "Thought I'd walk you back to the office."

A group of girls from his class, still in the hall, giggles. Gerard rolls his eyes and smiles back. "Guess that's okay," Gerard replies. "Whose office? Because mine is just down the hall, you know."

Frank rolls his own eyes, and Gerard laughs. "As if you weren't going to go straight to Grant's office."

"I might surprise you," Gerard says, adjusting the strap of his bag. "Are you still coming by my studio tonight?"

"Obviously," Frank replies as they head out of the building and toward the English department. Gerard's doing a really cool series right now, large-format paintings based on folklore. Frank's been helping him with research and Gerard wants his opinion. Also to blow him in the supply closet, but that's just...normal. They'll probably go home and have a late dinner with Grant after. Also normal.

There's been such a change in Frank since they got together. He's more open, happier. Less stressed. Gerard fucking loves it. Gerard loves the little cottage they moved into a few months ago, too. It's a little farther from campus, but worth it. He knows Frank and Grant love it too. Frank in particular.

Frank likes things that are solid. That he can hold onto. Gerard started buying Frank things almost right away, little presents for no reason. Books. Action figures. Old jazz records. They've filled a pretty large set of shelves in their living room by now, between the three of them. Frank lingers over those shelves.

Gerard and Grant have been conspiring to get him a dog, but they need to fix their fence and they're not sure how to do that on the sly so that it's a surprise. Gerard's pretty sure they have to give up and give the game away soon.

When they get to Grant's office, Gerard shuts the door and presses Frank up against it really fucking quick. Grant's on the phone, so all he can do is watch. Frank holds in a laugh and twines his arms around Gerard's neck. "You're not being very nice to Grant," he murmurs.

"Hmm. Don't care," Gerard whispers. "Sometimes I just have to touch you. He likes to watch anyway."

"He's not usually on the phone, though," Frank points out. Gerard rolls his eyes and leans in to kiss him. He keeps it slow and sweet because he knows Frank likes that, even if he won't admit it. Frank likes romance. Not necessarily the flowers and chocolates and candles shit, but the everyday sorts of things like cooking for each other and little presents and kissing.

When he has Frank pliant and happy, he goes to sit on Grant's lap. Grant wraps an arm around his waist and keeps talking on the phone as if everything is normal. Well. It is. Gerard leans down and teases his ear with his tongue a little, just because. Grant's breathing doesn't even change. Gerard would laugh, but he'd definitely disturb the conversation then. He waits as Grant wraps up his call, wiggling his eyebrows at Frank, who's sprawled on the couch.

Grant sets the phone back in its cradle. "You're a fucking menace," Grant says.

"This is news?" Gerard asks, leaning down for a proper kiss. Grant kisses back, hand flexing on Gerard's waist. Unlike the kisses with Frank, this is all tongue and intensity. Gerard fucking loves it either way, so he's happy.

"Can I offer you coffee, pets?" Grant murmurs when Gerard sits up. "How long are you here?"

"Gonna go to the studio in a bit, but we definitely have time for coffee," Gerard replies.

Frank laughs. "We always have time for coffee."

"Don't stay too long," Grant says. "I'm cooking tonight."

"I won't let him stay late," Frank promises and rolls onto his feet and circles around Grant's desk to kiss him. Gerard slips out of the way and goes to make the coffee. They're good at sharing space, but Grant's office chair probably has its limits.

Gerard turns to look at them when he's done getting the coffee going; Frank has both his hands wrapped around the back of Grant's neck and their tongues are moving against each other. It never gets any less hot.

Fuck, Gerard loves his fucking life. He laughs and goes to perch on the edge of the desk. "Grant, you never told me the perks of tenure included making out with hot boys at your desk."

"I would have if I'd thought it would come up," Grant replies, pulling back a few inches. "Don't worry, I'll be sure to mention it in the next newsletter."

"We're writing a newsletter now?" Frank asks.

"It might behoove us to start," Grant replies with a laugh. "Less chance for intrusive questions from busybodies. Professional gossip mongers have nothing on academics."

"Maybe you really should be writing ...oh, I don't know, your next book?" Gerard teases.

"I can't reach my keyboard," Grant points out, making a face up at Frank and poking him in the side.

Gerard watches Frank jump and squirm at the poke and laughs. Fuck, he loves them so much. "We can talk about publication later," he grins and tugs Frank off of Grant's lap to help him with coffees.

"Spoken like a true academic," Grant tells him.

Gerard laughs. "Well, for me it's less publication and more, creating more art. Which I should go do. As soon as I finish my coffee."

"Priorities," Frank says with a grin, and Gerard sticks his tongue out, then tugs Frank back down on the couch.

"I have good ones," he says, linking their fingers. Frank sighs happily and Gerard kisses his temple, then takes a sip of coffee. Grant gets up and squeezes in on Frank's other side. There's room for all three of them, as long as they don't mind being close. And that's the way it should be.