Displaced

Title: Displaced
Author: coffeewordangel
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: R
POV: Gerard, third
Summary: Body-swap
Disclaimer: So fake.
Author Notes: Yeah. Displaced. Not to be confused with Misplaced. Because I am awesome at the title thing. *facepalm* Anyway, for those of you playing along at home the order is as follows: Regressed, Misplaced, Sided and then this one. wtf27 prompt 17: Trading Places. Crack. Sooo much crack. (I really, really wanted to get some sex in here but they refused to make it work. I apologize.)



Gerard woke up with a hangover. This was an odd occurrence only because he hadn’t actually ingested any alcohol in over two years. He sat up with a groan and hit his head on the top of the bunk.

“Ow,” Gerard whimpered.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d ducked for chrissake. How could he possibly misjudge that badly? Was he still drunk? Had someone drugged him? Who would do something like that?

Phone. Phone ringing. Gerard finally located it under the pillow and pulled it out. Not his phone.

“Uh, hello?” he answered anyway.

“God, I wanna suck your dick so bad right now,” the voice on the other end moaned.

Gerard dropped the phone. What the fuck? He gingerly picked it back up between his thumb and forefinger. “May I ask who’s calling?” he asked primly.

The voice giggled. “You sound like my mom. It’s Pete, you dork. Why? You get other guys calling your phone offering blowjobs?”

“Er. No?”

“You better not,” Pete growled.

This whole conversation was fucking terrifying. Pete Wentz was talking about blowing him and growling. At least he thought it was Wentz. It wasn’t like they ever talked or anything so, really, that was more of a not-so-educated guess.

“Look, um, I gotta go. I’ll call you later,” Gerard promised, having no intention at all of keeping it.

“Okay, babe. Later.”

The second the call ended, Gerard heaved a sigh of relief. He had other things to worry about than strange phone calls. Like why his coordination was so off all of a sudden. Or why he had a non-alcoholic hangover. Or why there was a fucking tattoo on his wrist. His brother’s tattoo no less and.

Oh. God.

Gerard slid out of bed with all the grace of a newborn colt. It was a little like puberty again when his body seemed to stretch overnight and refused to follow directions and he ended up stumbling over everything. He made his way to the bathroom and stared into the mirror with horror. Mikey stared back at him from the reflection; last night’s eyeliner crusting the corners of his eyes and half his hair sticking straight up. Definitely Mikey. Gerard’s inspection was interrupted by a screech down the bus.

“Augh!”

Gerard sighed. He desperately hoped Frank hadn’t tried waking him up with a blowjob or anything. That might traumatize his poor brother. Frank’s whispers slipped through the curtains.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Did I do something?”

Gerard crept closer. He was 99% sure Mikey had ended up in his body.

“Please. Stop with the touching. And, maybe, get some clothes on?” Mikey sounded like he might cry.

He probably shouldn’t find it funny but, well, it totally was. Gerard stifled a snicker and poked his head between the curtains surrounding the bunk. Frank was still naked and Mikey was covering his face with his hands like a little child.

“Morning, boys,” Gerard greeted with a grin.

Mikey peered through his fingers cautiously. “Gerard?” he asked tentatively.

“Yeah,” Gerard confirmed.

Frank frowned. “Wait. Did you guys switch bodies?”

Mikey nodded miserably. “Why does this keep happening to me? First I was a cat and now I’m you. Why doesn’t anything ever happen to Frank? Or Ray?”

“Oh come on, Mikes. Being me isn’t so bad,” Gerard replied. “After all, you didn’t have to wake up with your hangover.”

Mikey paled. “Shit. I’m sorry, Gee. If I’d known you were gonna wake up as me I would’ve…”

“It’s fine,” Gerard interrupted. “Could you get me some orange juice or something? And some Advil?”

“Yeah. Um. Yeah.”

Gerard watched with amusement as his brother searched for pajama pants. Finally Frank threw them at his head . Once he was gone Gerard scooted closer to Frank.

“So. It’s really you in there, right?” Frank asked curiously.

“Uh huh.”

A grin spread over Frank’s face and Gerard found himself on his back beneath a very naked, very aroused guitarist. “Good,” Frank murmured, attacking the base of Gerard’s neck. “Apparently your brother has issues with me groping him first thing in the morning.”

“Strange boy,” Gerard gasped, sliding his strange new hands down to cup Frank’s ass.

Frank paused and looked up at him. “This is really weird, you know. Like, I know it’s you and all and I love you but you look like Mikey and. You know?”

“I know.” Gerard grinned. “Keep going though. It’ll freak him out.”

Frank snickered and lowered his head to lave his tongue over Gerard’s collarbone. Gerard moaned a little for effect.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mikey shrieked.

That brought Bob and Ray. They stared at Frank and what looked to them like Mikey entangled in Gerard’s bed. It was like a Lifetime movie, Gerard thought, feeling a little light headed from all the glaring being directed at him.

“I knew this was gonna go badly,” Ray muttered.

Mikey grit his teeth. “For god’s sake, Frank, get some fucking clothes on so we can discuss this thing.”

Frank meekly rolled off of Gerard and slipped on a pair of sweats. Then he crawled back into Gerard’s lap which brought about much glowering.

“Look,” Mikey began wearily. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Isn’t that their line?” Bob asked, gesturing toward the bed.

“No. Well, yes, but no.” Mikey ran a hand through his hair and seemed unsatisfied by the length. “Gee and I switched bodies so that’s actually Frank and Gerard. Like it should be.”

Bob sank to the ground with a groan. “God, why? Do you think this shit happens to other bands?”

“No,” Ray muttered darkly, sitting down next to him. “We’re cursed.”

“Oh fucking stop it,” Gerard snapped. “It’s not the end of the world and we’re not fucking cursed.

Bob and Ray exchanged a glance.

“Um. We have a show tomorrow night,” Bob reminded him.

“And you can’t play the bass,” Ray chimed in.

***

“Well, if nothing else we can just have them trade places and tell the audience we’re trying something different,” Ray suggested desperately.

“Riiiight,” Frank drawled. “And then maybe we can try having you and Bob switch instruments. Just for fun, you know. Hell, we can play Chinese Fire Drill: whoever’s at the mic when the music ends can be the front man for the show. We’ll just tell the kids it’s part of this whole ‘Black Parade’ thing we’re doing. A concept band, if you will.”

“See, now you’re just abusing sarcasm,” Ray replied.

Gerard sat on the couch, arms folded over his chest, glaring at his friends. The argument had been going on for around two hours and thus far no one had even suggested that they let him try playing. They hadn’t even questioned Mikey’s ability to lead. Oh no, those were just the vocals, how hard could they possibly be? Apparently playing the bass was tantamount to fucking brain surgery.

So he left. Just stood up and wandered outside for a smoke. He figured no one would even notice. Or if they did they wouldn’t deem him important enough to the conversation to follow him. He should have known Mikey would come after him.

“I gave those up, you know,” Mikey stated softly, walking over to lean on the bus next to Gerard.

It still freaked Gerard out a bit to look for his brother and find himself looking back. Still, if he was going to have to pretend to be someone else at least it was Mikey.

“Sure you did,” Gerard replied, taking another drag. “That’s why these were in the pocket of your hoodie. Your body, your cigarettes, my addiction. I refuse to feel guilty about it.”

Mikey shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’m not telling you to be guilty. I’m just sayin’.”

“Okay.” Gerard nodded and finished his smoke.

“I have an idea,” Mikey stated. “About the bass.”

Gerard cringed. At this point he would rather cancel the tour than discuss his lack of bass playing skills yet again. “What is it?”

“Well, I picked up my bass just to mess around, you know, and it was like the music was in my head but I just couldn’t get my fingers, well your fingers, to make it happen.”

Gerard glared. “Right. My body wasn’t made for instruments and made you suck. Got it.”

Mikey glared right back at him. “That’s not what I’m saying and you know it. Quit acting like a baby and fucking listen to what I’m trying to tell you.”

Gerard opened and closed his mouth a few times before deciding not to try Mikey’s patience any more than he already had. He crossed his arms and tilted his head and waited for the rest.

“Okay.” Mikey heaved a sigh. “Well, I know you know the music. Every note, forward and backwards. You just don’t play except when you’re writing sometimes. But I do. I can play those songs in my sleep and I think a lot of playing is muscle memory and currently you’re in possession of those muscles,” Mikey explained.

Gerard frowned. “That…kinda makes sense.”

“So we should at least try it, right?”

Mikey looked so hopeful that Gerard didn’t want to express any of his innate pessimism. Mikey thought it would work and so they would try. And then maybe they could figure out a way to reschedule some shows.

They trooped back inside and into a discussion of whether or not they could get away with wearing masks. Apparently the conversation hadn’t progressed much after Gerard had left. In fact, Ray and Frank were arguing about which type of masks they should wear while Bob read a magazine.

“Shut up,” Mikey ordered.

Gerard was more than a little taken aback by how forceful Mikey was being. He was even more taken aback that everyone was actually listening to him. Did they ever listen to Gerard that closely? He wasn’t sure.

“We’re going to try something.”

Mikey attached his bass to a portable amp and handed it over to Gerard. Gerard stared at it with some trepidation before accepting it. Strangely, or not so strangely if Mikey’s theory was correct, it felt natural instead of bulky, almost as though it was an extension of his body.

He started with ‘I’m Not Okay’ if only because it wasn’t all that hard and he knew they’d played it fifty billion times. If ever a song was going to be remembered by Mikey’s muscles it would be that one.

Slowly at first, clumsily, but Mikey was smiling encouragingly and Gerard realized he was thinking too hard. So he took his brain out of the equation and let instinct take over while the song played in his head; vocals turned down, bass turned up.

When he opened his eyes Frank was staring at him in delighted surprise and Mikey was beaming. Gerard let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and relaxed against the couch. Maybe he could do this. Maybe. As long as he didn’t lose the trance-like state while playing or look down at his hands. It was a little like remembering his social security number. If he just wrote it out without thinking he was fine but if he thought about it he couldn’t remember it to save his life.

“Now try ‘Black Parade’!” Mikey encouraged.

Gerard almost replied with a whiny ‘But that’s hard!’. Instead he just sighed and sat back up.

***

“So, Mikey,” Gerard said casually. “I’ve been getting these phone calls…”

Mikey went paper white and then flushed bright red. Gerard watched with interest. He’d never watched himself blush before. He made a mental note to never ever blush again.

“Pete?” Mikey asked in a whisper.

“Wentz?”

Mikey nodded and looked down at his feet.

“I thought that was just a Warped Tour thing,” Gerard said gently, with as little condemnation as he possibly could.

Mikey bit his lip. “So did we. But. It’s not. I…I don’t know. We’re just…”

“Does Alicia know?” Gerard realized he had no room to talk but he liked Alicia. Admired her, even, and he’d thought she and Mikey were solid. Predictable, something he could count on but apparently not.

“Yeah. She does.” Mikey’s voice was tight, defensive.

Gerard held up his hands. “Okay. It’s cool. That’s all I wanted to know. I’m just a little tired of evading the phone sex.”

“Who’re you having phone sex with?” Frank asked, jealousy tingeing his attempt at casualty.

“No one,” Gerard replied, sliding a hand around the back of Frank’s neck. “I promise.”

Frank nestled against his side and slid a hand into Gerard’s back pocket, squeezing lightly. “So, how soon do you think you guys will learn whatever lesson you’re supposed to learn from this so you can switch back?” He paused and pouted up at Gerard. “I miss your ass. Mikey’s too skinny.”

Gerard snorted and Mikey made some sound of strangled outrage. Or maybe disgust. Gerard couldn’t really tell.

“This isn’t Freaky Friday, sweetheart,” Gerard told Frank gently. “I’m not sure there’s a lesson to be learned here. I mean, what lesson was Mikey supposed to learn from being a cat?”

Frank tilted his head. “That he likes being scratched behind the ears?”

Gerard giggled. Mikey just flushed some more.

“Okay, no lesson to be learned,” Frank conceded. “You just switch back at some point?”

“God, I hope so,” Gerard intoned, rubbing his forehead.

Frank grinned and stood on his tiptoes to nip at Gerard’s jaw. “Me too.”

He shouldn’t because, well, Mikey’s body and Mikey was standing right there but Gerard couldn’t help it. He missed his boy. A week without doing anything at all besides flirting and all he wanted to do was ravage the shit out of Frank. So he kissed him. Predictably, it was out of control before it really even started.

“That’s fucking disturbing,” Mikey stated flatly. “Please stop.”

Reluctantly Gerard pulled away from Frank who whimpered a little at the loss. “Sorry,” he panted.

Mikey glared at both of them. “I want my body back completely undefiled. Show a little fucking restraint.”

Gerard flushed and tried not to look at Frank.

***

Screams and stage lights and it should have been comfortingly familiar. It totally wasn’t. Gerard wanted the spotlight back. He wanted to scream and rail at the audience, he wanted to command their complete attention. Instead he was stuck in the background while his brother played the crowd.

Gerard had never realized what an attention whore he was before now.

After the show, after the rituals, Gerard sought his brother out. “Hey, Mikes?”

“Yeah?”

“Um.” Gerard chewed at a hangnail. “Do you ever…resent me?”

“No,” Mikey replied slowly. “Well, I used to be a little jealous but. No. Please take the spotlight back.”

Gerard frowned and tilted his head.

“I mean. We talk about how you’d go crazy if you had to do this alone but I didn’t really know. Being up there, it’s like an out of body experience.” Mikey stopped and grinned. “Well, for me it kinda is but that’s not what I meant.”

Gerard reached over and ruffled his hair. “I know what you meant. So…we’re okay with the roles we play and shit?”

Mikey rolled his eyes. “There is no lesson to be learned here. I don’t want your life and I’d like mine back. You can have everyone hanging on your every word. I want to fade into the background a bit. There’s less pressure.”

“People notice you,” Gerard protested.

Mikey smiled in a way that broke Gerard’s heart a little. “Not like they notice you.”

***

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks of fucking celibacy. Gerard had thought kicking drugs and alcohol was hard. No, that was a fucking cakewalk compared to this. Especially since a certain rhythm guitarist kept wandering around the fucking bus in low-slung pajama pants and nothing else. One tug and Gerard could have them off. But no, he kept his hands to himself and it was slowly driving him insane.

“Gerard?”

Gerard stifled a groan as Frank clambered up into his bunk. “Yeah?”

“What exactly do you suppose Mikey meant by ‘completely undefiled’?” Frank whispered, settling himself firmly over Gerard’s hips.

“You know what he meant,” Gerard hissed through gritted teeth, desperately trying not to buck up.

Frank bent down and flicked his tongue over Gerard’s lips. “You think blowjobs count? I mean, I’m pretty sure he and Pete have done that at the very least.”

He slid a hand down to palm Gerard’s cock through the very thin material of his pajama pants and Gerard was lost. Blowjobs, yes. Fantastic. Best idea ever.

Frank got as far as nibbling over Gerard’s hipbones before stopping completely and looking up at him, eyes filled with guilt and frustration. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Gee. I thought I could but. I can’t.”

Gerard groaned. “I know. It’s okay.” And, for the most part, it was. The more he thought about it the less he liked the idea of Frank’s mouth on his brother’s cock. Even if Gerard was in possession of it at the moment.

“Are you sure?” Frank asked.

“Of course,” Gerard replied without thought. “Um. Do you think maybe you could close your eyes long enough for us to help each other out?”

Frank snickered. “Oh Gerard, I love it when you’re euphemistic,” he mock-swooned.

Gerard swatted him. “Yes or no, bitch?”

“Yes. Absolutely. Handjobs all around,” Frank pronounced with a smirk. It slid off his face rather quickly when Gerard loosely fisted his length.

It was over too soon which, Gerard supposed, was to be expected. He hadn’t realized exactly how much he’d missed the press of Frank’s sweaty flesh against his own until they were curled under the duvet in a tangle of limbs. That in itself was so good he wanted to cry.

“Love you,” Frank mumbled, half asleep and snuggling closer.

Gerard smiled down at him and tangled his fingers in soft brown hair.

***

Sunlight woke Gerard although he could have sworn he’d closed the curtains the night before. He threw an arm over his eyes and whined for Frank to close them because he was closer. Except he wasn’t. He wasn’t there at all.

Gerard sat up carefully, squinting against the light. He took inventory as best his sleep-addled mind could. Black comforter, ring-less fingers, t-shirt and jeans when he knew he’d fallen asleep ass naked. He was back.

A grin spread across his face. It had never felt so good to be in his own skin before. He slowly explored to make 100% sure he hadn’t ended up as Bob or anything. Short hair, no piercings, definitely his cock. Yes.

“Augh!” Mikey’s shrieking echoed through the bus. “What did I tell you people? Why are you naked? In my bed. Again! For god’s sake Frank, clothes!”

Gerard collapsed against his pillow in a fit of laughter.