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Frank doesn’t usually see any of the teachers from Asher’s school out in the wild except for the rare and awkward grocery store run-in, and while he thought Gerard Way would be the exception, given how they met and all and how unconventional it already was, he doesn’t end up seeing him until the first parent-teacher night of the year. Technically speaking.
Which is fitting, but it also makes it that much more awful for Frank because he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Gerard since Halloween. Ray’s seen him more often than that because apparently he comes in to buy nut-free, gluten-free, all-allergen-free desserts every time it’s someone’s birthday in his class, and while it makes Asher’s life better, now Frank has to go see the guy feeling like an overwound top.
He’s going to make a fool of himself. He just knows it.
And he knows this because he’s way more nervous for a parent-teacher night than he thinks any parent probably should be.
“Are you sure it’s not love at first sight?”
He and Ray are standing at the entrance to the bakery eating a couple of pumpkin cookies that ended up too small to package and sell because Frank isn’t actually allowed into the bakery unless he has a hairnet on, and when Ray says that — not for the first time, either — he gets the fleeting urge to take a stroll through the walk-in oven.
“Dude. I think I know what love at first sight feels like, okay?”
Ray raises his eyebrows and leans a little more jauntily against the side of the refrigerated display case. “Really? When was the last time you felt it.”
“When I brought Ash home, alright, it’s not that.” Frank points his half-eaten cookie at him. “And you’re one to talk.”
Ray squints in betrayal and is about to open his mouth to give a fruitless rebuttal they’ll both laugh over, when his eyes flick over Frank’s head and he smiles like the Cheshire Cat.
“Oh, this has to be a sign,” he says.
Frank looks over his shoulder. Gerard Way and who he now knows is his brother, are in the aisle directly across from them. When Mikey Way starts to turn his head, Frank shoves past Ray into the bakery and crouches by the bread slicer behind the tiled half-wall.
Ray looks down at him. “Frank, you’re thirty now.”
“Yeah, the decade of loneliness, so leave it alone.”
“Wouldn’t it make it easier for tomorrow if you just said hi?” he says rationally. “Ease some of the tension?”
Frank squints up at him in the same way Ray did just two seconds ago, before he spotted the Ways.
He’s about to peek his head around the corner to see if they’re gone when a cart parks in his line of sight and Ray says brightly, “Hey! How you guys doing?”
Gerard is the one who answers, and hearing his soft, nasally voice for the first time in almost a month makes Frank feel a little weak in the knees.
Maybe more than a little, because he accidentally bumps into the bread slicer. Ray moves more into the entrance to the bakery subtly and slams his hand down on top of the machine Frank’s crouching by; a shower of bread crumbs rains down upon him.
“Hey,” Gerard says politely. “Just doing some shopping and came over to say hi.”
Ray kicks him and Frank punches him back in the shin.
“We’re gonna grab two dozen of those cookies and cream cupcakes for parent-teacher night,” Mikey Way says, and Frank notices that he sounds like his brother.
“No we’re not — we’re not, really. I save the sweets for the kids, and I already picked up enough for the Thanksgiving party tomorrow. I’m bringing in my Keurig for the parents.”
“Oh, cool. You know my friend Frank — he’s Asher Iero’s dad — he really likes that Donut Shop stuff. Just FYI.”
Frank bites back a bone-deep sight and wonders if he can tie the laces of Ray’s sneakers together without anyone noticing.
“I’ll, uh — I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”
“No problem!” Ray says. “Hey, listen, I’ve got an order due in a few, but it was good to see you guys.”
Gerard and Mikey both say goodbye and move on with their stroller, and when Frank feels it’s safe, he pulls himself to his feet.
“I can’t stand you,” he says, brushing breadcrumbs from his hair and shoulders.
Ray starts off towards his half of the bakery and Frank follows on the customer’s side. “Yeah, yeah, you’ll thank me when the two of you live happily ever after. I actually do have an order soon though. And don’t you have to go pick up Ash from aftercare?”
Frank pulls his phone out and checks the time to find he’s running late. “Shit, yeah.”
Ray hands him the rest of his pumpkin cookie and Frank shoves it in his mouth. “Want me over for dinner? I don’t have anything to do after I get out of here.”
“No,” Frank says, backing away from the counter. “I don’t ever want to see you again. You’re the worst friend ever.”
Ray’s laugh follows him all the way out of the grocery store.
The next day Asher gets into the car when Frank picks him up from school raving about Mr. Way, which isn’t out of the ordinary considering Gerard has fast become his kid’s favorite teacher, but his class had their Thanksgiving party today, and Gerard put on The Book of Boba Fett for everyone to watch until the bell rang at noon, and that’s news-worthy in Asher’s eyes.
It doesn’t help Frank’s situation, because all day at work, through guitar lessons and piano deliveries, he’s been worrying over tonight like he’s going to be the topic of discussion. Even John, Rock City’s legal, on-paper owner but who’s always out of the country and only calls for business purposes, asks Frank over the phone what’s got his panties in a twist. Frank wasn’t going to be honest with him, they never had that sort of relationship despite having known each other since Frank was a teenager, but he also couldn’t turn it around and say he was just nervous for Asher, because Asher has always been a grade A student. He just said he wasn’t feeling well, which is believable enough.
So Frank is alone in his inner turmoil, and forced to listen to his kid tell him how cool Mr. Way is and how nice he is and how he’s the best teacher ever. He’ll bet Gerard doesn’t feel this way. He’ll bet Gerard hasn’t thought about him since Halloween.
Frank is standing in his underwear when Ray lets himself in later, staring at four different shirts draped over his bed. He asked Asher at one point what he should wear, but he suggested swim trunks and that T-shirt his mother bought him off Facebook as a joke that says “I went to the adoption agency but all I got was this stupid baby”, so he figured he’d wait until there was another adult in the apartment to put any clothes on.
“Got a hot date?” Ray asks from the doorway to his bedroom.
Frank gives him the Kubrick stare.
Ray laughs, hands up, and comes over. He surveys the shirts and points to one, a button-up covered in tiny skulls and roses. “You should wear that one,” he says decisively. “And your jean jacket with the patches.”
Frank picks up the shirt and fingers the fabric. It’s one of his favorites, that’s why he laid it out, but — “Are you sure it’s appropriate? Because the school already hates the way I look.”
“Gerard’ll like it, trust me. Mikey’s told me some about him.”
There’s a glint in Ray’s eye when he says that that Frank doesn’t trust, and he swallows down the urge to ask him to elaborate while he gets dressed.
Why’d he even have trouble picking out an outfit? It’s parent-teacher night, not a date. And he’s met the guy a grand total of once. Just because it was under unique circumstances doesn’t mean he should be acting this way.
God, he feels fifteen again.
Ray and Asher are playing UNO on the floor while Odd Squad runs on the TV, and Frank goes over and kisses Asher’s head. Ray holds his fist up and they bump knuckles.
“Alright, I’m heading out,” he tells them. “Be good for Uncle Ray or I’ll string you up by your toes.”
Asher throws his head back to stick his tongue out at Frank and Frank reaches down to pinch his nose. “I’m always good,” Asher says, and Frank lets go.
“Well, we’ll see what Mr. Way has to say about that.”
“Hey, Ash, why don’t you go get your squishy?” Ray says suddenly. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to miss out on the fun.”
Asher speeds off into his room wailing his Squishmallow’s name like he can’t believe he forgot about it, and Ray gets to his feet.
“Moment of truth,” he says, slapping his hands on his thighs.
“What?” Frank says, pulling his jean jacket on from where he had it hanging up by the door.
Ray glances in the direction of Asher’s room and says in a stage whisper, “Tonight you’ll either realize you do have feelings for Gerard, or you just had yourself all worked up over nothing.”
Frank is about to tell him off, again, when Asher comes back out with his stuffed animal.
“Don’t forget we need more string beans for tomorrow,” Ray says with a pat on Frank’s cheek, and goes back over to continue his and Asher’s card game.
Frank holds back a sigh.
Parent-teacher night is always a weird concept, standing around in the colorful hallway twiddling your thumbs and making small talk with the other parents. It’s like every school reunion he’s been to, with less alcohol involved and a lot more construction paper chainlinks. But this one feels weirder; Frank is hyper-aware of his tattoos and the cologne he spritzed on before he left. He’s had the last seven years to learn how not to care what people think of his outward appearance, and yet here he is nervous about meeting with a guy as innocent as his kid’s second grade teacher. You’d think he was waiting to meet the president or something.
The whole thing is that, when he sat down and drank hot chocolate with Gerard, took a cannoli from him, Frank felt a warmth in his belly that he hasn’t felt since — well, since he brought Asher home. It wasn’t the same kind of warmth though, that’s why he was able to get away with telling Ray it wasn’t love at first sight, but it was a warmth nonetheless, and so a very rusty, moth-eaten part of him is going haywire right now, and has been going haywire since Halloween.
Ray is probably right with what he was saying, as usual. He just needs to get this over with to see, no matter how scared he is. It could be nothing. It could be something.
Frank’s just not sure which outcome he’s dreading more.
“Mr. Iero?”
Frank looks up. He just sat down on one of the benches against the wall but when he sees Gerard standing in the doorway to his classroom he gets up like he’s on a wire.
“Hey,” he says, wiping his hands on his jeans.
Gerard smiles, softly, crookedly, and waves him in. Frank nods casually at the woman that was sitting across the hall from him even though she’s had her nose in her phone since he got here, and follows Gerard.
“There’s no need to be nervous, Frank, this isn’t a doctor’s appointment,” Gerard laughs as he goes over to the bunch of desks he’s pushed together to form a larger surface area to work at. “Oh — could you take your shoes off at the door?”
Frank toes his sneakers off and pushes them under a sign on the wall by the door that says Shoe Depository. When he turns back to Gerard, who’s sitting at the desks and spreading papers out before him, he notices he’s in a pair of slippers. A pair of slippers and a hoodie and little black-framed glasses. Frank feels severely overdressed suddenly.
And of course he has to comment on it, because when he’s in the presence of someone who’s even mildly attractive, even in a hoodie that definitely has paint splatters all over it, his mouth loses its filter.
“You look comfy.”
The left corner of Gerard’s mouth ticks up. “And you look nice. I like the shirt.”
“Thanks.” Frank sits down and narrowly avoids saying something else stupid like “Ray told me you would”. “So, uh — how’s Ash doing?”
Gerard slides a piece of paper towards him with a single finger and gets back up. “See for yourself. Coffee?”
“Yeah, sure.” The paper is Asher’s report card for the marking period, and he has A’s in everything except Math, which is a B.
“He’s having a little trouble with his multiplications,” Gerard tells him while he makes Frank a cup of coffee at the Keurig he set up on another desk, “but other than that, your son is very bright.”
Frank flushes. “Thanks. We’re working on his Math at home.”
“That’s good. Milk? Sugar?”
“Just some milk.”
“Sure. Do you help Asher with his homework a lot?”
“Only if he asks for it,” Frank tells him. “But I always go over it with him when he’s finished.”
Gerard sets down a steaming Dixie to-cup without a lid in front of Frank and sits back down across from him. “Yeah, he rarely asks for help. He’s very independent. He’s an only child, right?”
“Mhm. Just like me.” Frank takes a sip of the coffee and swallows down a smile with it when he realizes it’s Donut Shop. “I love this brand. Thanks.”
“Your friend Ray told me at Acme yesterday.” Ray is suspiciously becoming the middle man here, isn’t he? “Hold on — is it too late for coffee for you?” Gerard asks with a quirk of his eyebrow that’s as dark and straight as the plastic frame of his glasses.
“I can make an exception.” Frank drops his eyes from Gerard’s face and starts folding up Asher’s report card when he realizes the implications of what he just said.
The extra caffeine is definitely not going to help the way his heart is beating in his chest.
Get a grip on yourself! You’re here for your kid!
If Gerard notices, he doesn’t show it on his face. “Well, uh, one thing I did want to mention is that Asher sometimes misspells his last name?” He folds his hands on the desk and scrunches his pointy nose up with the freckle on the tip. “It’s not exactly something I can correct with a red pen, but I’ll notice he changes the I in Iero to an L in some of his worksheets.”
Frank snorts into his coffee. “That was a little inside joke between him and Miss Wright. She called him Asher Lero on the first day of school and he thought it was the funniest thing ever.”
Gerard looks thoroughly entertained at this. “That’s too much,” he says, shaking his head a little.
The rest of the conference goes how they usually go; Gerard shows Frank some of the work Asher’s done this marking period, tells him about his participation in class and how he interacts with the other kids. It’s all very cut and dry, except for how Frank can’t stop looking at Gerard’s lopsided mouth when he talks or his light eyes and how Gerard keeps bumping his slippers into Frank’s socked feet.
Gerard is probably the most charming person Frank has ever met, colorful and kind in a quiet way, and he can see why Asher likes him so much. Unfortunately the guy Frank met on Halloween is the same guy now, and the warmth in his belly is just as strong the longer he spends in this dimly-lit classroom with its reading corner and potted plants and poster above the desk that says “Treat People With Kindness”.
Frank is so, so screwed.
By the time their twenty minutes are up, Frank’s Dixie cup is empty and he feels about ready to go speed all the way home. Gerard seems none the wiser, thankfully, but that just makes it that much more torturous. He doesn’t have a single clue how detrimental his round cheeks and sweet laugh and paint-splattered hoodie are to Frank’s very being. He’s cute and oblivious and Frank really, really hopes he’s as straight as an arrow.
(But he used the word partner in relation to his romantic life, so, also unfortunately, that seems unlikely.)
“It was good to see you again, Frank,” he says, scratching his fingers through his soft, straw-colored hair, and they both get up from the cluster of desks.
They shake hands, and it’s the worst part of Frank’s night.
“Yeah, you, uh — ” Frank, because he’s a disgrace of a thirty-year-old, bumps into one of the desks in his casual attempt to escape the plight he feels himself falling headfirst into. “You too.”
Gerard was too busy getting the next student’s file out from his desk to witness him make a fool of himself (he really called that one, didn’t he?), so Frank hurries to the door.
When he’s there, ready to leave, he says, “Happy Thanksgiving, by the way.”
Gerard doesn’t respond at first, then looks up suddenly like he only just heard him, his eyebrows raised over his glasses and his head cocked. “What? Sorry, I’m a little hard of hearing.”
Frank feels mortified having to repeat himself, but he does, and the way Gerard smiles at him after makes him almost leave without his shoes.
When he gets home, that feeling of being a teenager comes back tenfold, and he feels like he’s sneaking back in after a —
He won’t entertain that thought, but it doesn’t help that Ray is sprawled out on the couch watching the TV on low and looking like he was waiting up for Frank.
“So?” he says with a smile in his voice as Frank locks the door behind him. “What’s the verdict?”
Frank takes off his shoes and jacket without giving him the benefit of eye contact. “Ash needs to transfer schools,” he says flatly, and goes into the kitchen for a beer.
Coffee and beer this late in the evening? What a day.
Frank hears Ray get up off the couch. “He’s doing that bad, huh?”
“Yeah.”
There’s some rustling of paper, and Ray humming. “Well, I could see why he’d have to leave. A B in Math is pretty bad.”
Frank sips his beer and says nothing.
“Frank, seriously,” Ray says, in the same way he said “You’re thirty” yesterday, the Ray-variety of “Dude, come on”.
He finally turns around. Ray is at the door ready to leave, Asher’s report card in one hand and his eyebrows high on his forehead. Frank would love to continue playing dumb, but it’s Ray; they always see right through each other. Frank can’t keep anything from him, and he’s probably already figured it out by the look he knows is on his face, he’s just cruel enough to want Frank to say it himself so he can hit him with the good old I Told You So.
“I’m not saying it’s love at first sight — ”
“I knew it.”
“ — but it’s something. Okay? It’s something.”
Ray comes over, his presence filling up the small kitchen with a familiar comfort. “You don’t have to look like it’s the end of the world,” he says gently, putting the report card on the table.
Frank glances at the closed door to Asher’s room. “It could be,” he mumbles into the mouth of his beer bottle.
“Didn’t you say he shares your sentiments?”
Right. Gerard Way isn’t just single and queer and irritatingly nice, especially to his kid which is the most important thing, but he also feels exactly the same way about dating and relationships that Frank does. It sounds like a match made in single dad Heaven.
It also sounds too good to be true, which is why he needs to find a reason why it won’t work out before getting his feet wet. He needs to find a reason to tell Ray I Told You So.
Ray steals a swig of his beer and pats him on the shoulder when Frank doesn’t say anything, and he leaves the apartment quietly.
It isn’t until after he goes does Frank realize he forgot to pick up the string beans.
Thanksgiving is always a quiet affair in the Iero household to make up for the circus of Christmas next month. For the last seven years, it’s gone exactly like this:
Ray comes over at seven in the morning and they make breakfast together, usually cinnamon rolls from a tube and bacon and eggs, and when the smell eventually wakes Asher up and he wanders from his room rubbing his eyes, they eat in front of A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving while calling various family members to wish them a happy holiday and say they can’t wait to see them for Christmas.
When nine o’clock rolls around dinner gets started, and Frank and Ray take turns in the kitchen between stints on the couch with Asher to watch the parade. They eat a measly lunch of chips and dip and other mini hors d’oeuvres that come out of a jar or a can while watching the dog show, which is, arguably, the best part of the day.
Dinner is usually at four or five, depending on how many gherkins they eat, and it’s just the three of them at the kitchen table surrounded by dishes of food, and every year Frank thinks this is all he’ll ever need — his best friend and his best boy.
This time around, though, when they’re saying what they’re grateful for over pumpkin pie and ice cream, Asher says with whipped cream on his nose, “I’m thankful for Mr. Way!”
Frank chokes on his eggnog and Ray reaches over to slap his back while looking like he just won the lottery.
“Why are you thankful for him?” he asks Asher, and Frank shakes him off so he can wipe his kid’s face.
“Well, the other day he shared his lunch with Julia because she left her lunchbox on the bus and yesterday during the party he promised us he’d bring his cats to school so we can meet them even though I already met them and they’re really cool. And soft.” Asher shovels more pie into his mouth. “Dad, can Mr. Way come over so I can show him my action figures? I think he’d really like them.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Ray says, but Frank ignores him by giving Asher the classic default dad line of, “We’ll see, bud.”
They both look pleased as punch, and Frank wishes his eggnog was spiked.
Can’t he go one holiday without thinking about Gerard Way?
Apparently not, because after dinner, when they pack up most of their leftovers and haul it all to the soup kitchen downtown like they do every year, there Gerard Way is in all of his hand-knit glory spooning sweet potato casserole onto a plate for a man in a Holden Caulfield hat.
Ray doesn’t see him, thankfully — he disappears into the kitchen to let everyone know they’re there. Frank picks out the nicest-looking person — this year it’s a little old lady in a rainbow shawl and Estelle Getty glasses sitting by herself — and points Asher in that direction, who goes skipping off. Frank can’t wait until he’s old enough to actually start helping.
Frank carries his box of still-warm dishes covered in tinfoil over to an empty spot on the folding table Gerard is working from and sets it down carefully. If anyone asks, he’s not holding his breath right now.
Gerard is wearing a beanie and a cardigan, and the way he smiles so kindly at everyone who comes up to the table makes Frank feel like Nick Carraway in The Great Gatsby when he meets him for the first time at that party.
“Come here often?” he asks in what he hopes is a casual way while he takes off all the tinfoil from his dishes. He has to clear his throat a few times before it comes out the way he wants.
Gerard glances over and starts. “Frank! What are you doing here?”
Frank fishmouths. “Uh, we come here every year,” he tells him. “You?”
Gerard holds up a finger and passes behind Frank to stand at his other side. He drags his hand across his back as he goes, and Frank suppresses a shiver at his unexpected touch. “Sorry, it’s kind of loud in here. This is my good ear.”
“Oh, okay,” Frank says lightly. As he sets out the food he swears he can still feel Gerard’s hand on his back, and hates himself for it.
“Did you say you come here every year?”
“Yeah, we bring our leftovers. It’s tradition.”
“That’s so nice of you,” Gerard tells him warmly. “Usually I just eat takeout alone at my place, but I felt like doing something different this year, you know? New town, new — traditions.”
A young girl with a long ponytail and fingerless gloves comes up to their table with her empty plate and avoids both of their faces while she reaches for the ladle in a pan of stuffing. Gerard turns his back on her to give her some privacy, which is sweet of him, just like everything about him is, but that means he’s unavoidably in Frank’s space now, and he smells like soap and Thanksgiving dinner and maybe cigarettes, which is surprising.
“What’s your brother up to?” Frank asks, crossing his arms over his chest and swallowing roughly. He glances over the girl at their table to check on Asher and his new friend, who look like they’re having a very lively conversation, and when he looks back at Gerard, he looks mildly uncomfortable.
“Uh, he’s with our parents. I usually stay back at Thanksgiving.”
Frank hums, and tries not to think about how he can feel the heat coming off Gerard’s body. “Yeah, I don’t see my parents until Christmas too.”
The girl leaves with her plate of food and Gerard turns back around. While he’s stirring some of the dishes up so they don’t get cold and crusty, he says, avoiding looking at Frank, “I don’t see them for Christmas either.”
Surprised, Frank thinks about Christmas and the wonderful chaos it is, with both his and Ray’s families all under one roof. He thinks about the singalongs and the snowball fights and chases around the house with towels and wooden spoons when the kids try to sneak into the kitchen before dinner.
And he thinks about Gerard, who’s so good to his kid, alone in his new house with his Netflix and lo mein, and realizes he can swallow down his weird, confusing feelings for the guy to be a decent human being. It’s the holidays for goodness sake; no one should be alone during the holidays.
“Me and Ray’s families always celebrate together,” Frank tells the side of his face, the freckles on his cheek, the sharp angle of his nose, “if you want to tag along.”
Gerard looks at him with the sweetest, most heartbreaking look, and it makes the back of Frank’s neck go warm.
He starts piling mashed potatoes on a plate, the ones they brought from home. “The more the merrier, right?” he says to the array of food.
Asher appears at their table, hands already out, and Frank hands him the plate. “Mr. Way!” he yelps when he notices Gerard standing at his dad’s side. “What are you doing here!”
Gerard, still looking a little unmoored at Frank’s offer, reaches over the table and scratches Asher’s head. “Hi, honey. I’m volunteering just like you guys are.”
“You should come over our house one day so I can show you my action figures,” Asher says, already shoveling the potatoes into his mouth. “I have all the bounty hunters — even 4-LOM!”
“Well, if Ger — Mr. Way does Christmas with us, then you can, bud,” Frank tells him.
Asher’s eyes grow three times their size, and they flick between them comically. “No way! You have to come, Mr. Way — you have to!”
“Okay, okay, go on back to your friend before she thinks you ditched her.” Frank leans over the table, almost getting his jacket in a vat of cranberry sauce, and puckers his lips; Asher kisses him impatiently and Frank runs his hand over his brown hair. “How is she? Nice?”
“Yeah, she’s teaching me about knitting,” Asher says, and hurries back off across the room.
Gerard is still quiet, moving the desserts Frank brought to the dessert table perpendicular to them that’s being run by a husband and wife duo from one of the local churches and then organizing the food on their own table. Frank fills the silence.
“He’s kind of a mashed potato fiend; I’m surprised we had enough to bring by.”
Gerard frowns, tugging a little at his beanie like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “I don’t want to impose, Frank.”
“You won’t be,” he says automatically. “Like I said, the more the merrier. And I figured, you know, it’ll be reparation for what happened — for Halloween.”
Finally Gerard’s face blooms back into that easy smile. “Well in that case.”
And also automatically, because of his lack of filter around Gerard, Frank says, “It’s a date.”
And because of Gerard’s seemingly innocently oblivious nature, he nods, pats Frank in a friendly manner on the shoulder, and goes past him towards the kitchen to grab more napkins without another word.
Frank lets out a breath when he’s gone. What’s one more holiday with Gerard?