Fic: I'm Not Sleeping (Trust Me) - 2/2

[dira]

Part One

So, okay, so everyone knew. Marc knew, the PAs knew, the camera guys knew and were mostly averting their eyes. And lenses, Frank hoped, or they'd have to veto a lot of footage when it came to editing. If the extras didn't know it was because they assumed Frank and Gerard danced each other around the room like that all the time, which--okay, actually, that wasn't very far off. So maybe the extras didn't know.

But everyone else knew, and everybody was fine with it--all teasing smiles and the occasional eyeroll, nothing more, no glaring or weirdness, not so much as innuendo on camera--and Frank had thought that meant they weren't going to be colossal assholes about it.

Frank had been so, so wrong.

It had been a long day of filming, exhausted and exhausting. Marc had held the coolest scene for last, which kept them going through all of it, but then everybody was hyped up at the end. They all stood around for another hour looking at playback and talking to the behind the scenes camera guys and shaking everybody's hands and, yeah, maybe jumping up and down and shit. It was so fucking cool, their music video with its own fight scene.

But it was also past midnight when they got out of there, and Frank and Gerard had been exchanging silent up-and-down glances since four in the afternoon. They'd managed to find unoccupied corners twice to make out, but that hadn't really helped when they obviously didn't have time or privacy to do anything but get each other worked up.

And now, at two in the morning, Frank and Gerard and Mikey and Ray and Bob and Brian were all crammed into a corner booth at some diner, and Frank and Gerard weren't even next to each other. They had Mikey sitting between them, and there was really just no chance Frank was going to reach over Mikey to grope Gerard, although as the table-wide argument over what meal they were even supposed to be eating wore on, he was tempted. They were going to be here all night at this rate.

Bob said, "Look, I don’t fucking care what time it is, I want pancakes. It's always time for pancakes."

Automatically, in unison, each in their own version of a Breakfast Monkey voice, Frank and Mikey and Ray all said, "Pancakes with cream!"

Gerard lowered his face into his hands, nearly dipping his hair into his coffee. Bob stared at them all, looking baffled and a little worried, and Brian snickered into his fist, not even pretending it was a cough.

Ray said, "Breakfast Monkey, Bob! Breakfast Monkey, come on, I know we told you about this..."

Frank leaned back in the booth and watched while Ray and Mikey explained it, leaning in further and further and waving their hands around. Frank figured out inside of about two minutes that Bob could have explained the entire history of Breakfast Monkey himself and was just letting them ramble.

Bob had probably gotten it from Gerard at least once. It was one of the things you could get Gerard to go on and on and on about when he was wasted, his forlorn forgotten cartoon show. It was one of Frank's top five ways to keep him talking while waiting for him to sober up or pass out.

Frank had just realized that he might very well never have to do that again when Gerard leaned back too, looking at Frank across Mikey's back. He had his fingers still splayed across his red cheeks, bracketing his eyes. He blinked at Frank, some kind of desperate Morse code Frank couldn't decipher. Frank looked down at the menu, because if he kept looking at Gerard batting his fucking eyelashes, Frank was going to crawl right over Mikey and cause a scene.

He couldn't really focus enough to read the menu, but there were like three vegan things on it anyway, it wasn't a hard choice. In the middle of Mikey's dramatic re-enactment of a Breakfast Monkey adventure using a spoon and the salt shaker, Frank said, "Fuck, now I want pancakes too."

"Huh," Ray said. "Yeah."

"I want French toast," Mikey announced, and there went the dinner side of the argument. "Bob's fucking powers of suggestion."

Bob cracked a tiny smile. "I promise to use them mostly for good."

Gerard laughed, his big stupid startled laugh. "Mostly?"

Frank just kept staring at his menu and concentrated on staying in his seat.

***

Frank let the waitress top up his coffee every time she ventured over, because he was damned if he was going to go back to the hotel and fall asleep. Gerard was doing the same, and Frank tried really hard not to shoot him the same stupid conspiratorial grin every time they both reached for the sugar packets, but he had a feeling they weren't fooling anyone.

Still, even after everyone was done eating they just kept sitting there, talking, like they didn't have all of about four hours until the second day of filming started up. Frank was drumming on the table-edge with his silverware, and if Gerard were talking any faster they were going to need Chipmunk translators.

Frank was pretty sure they were going to have to give up and tell the other guys it was time to get back to the hotel so they could have sex already oh god please, but just then Frank saw Brian straighten up, looking past all of them. Frank turned to see.

Their waitress was walking over with a tray holding six cupcakes, and the cupcake with the thickest frosting had a candle stuck in it. The candle was shaped like a five.

Frank felt everybody shifting around him, going silent as they turned to look, and their waitress smiled. Frank pivoted in place, eyes on her and the cupcakes until she set them down in front of Gerard, and then he had to look at Gerard's face, eyes wide, lips parted.

Frank barely saw the waitress hold out a lighter, expertly flick it to light the candle. He heard her say, "One day at a time, sugar. Good luck."

It was four in the morning. Gerard had gotten through five full days.

Gerard looked to Brian first, because it must have been Brian who arranged this, and then to Frank, and then all around the table, wide-eyed and silent.

"You guys," he managed finally. "What--you didn't..."

"Five days," Mikey muttered, tugging Gerard close. "Cupcakes are totally mandatory for five days. It says so on the internet somewhere."

Gerard was staring at the candle now; Frank could see the light of it reflecting in his eyes, a little shinier than they should be. Frank blinked a couple of times, fighting the knowledge that anybody looking at him would see his eyes reflecting too much light, too. He didn't dare look around to see the other guys' eyes. Better just to look at Gerard.

Bob said, "You don't blow out your candle soon, you're going to be eating more wax than frosting."

Even Bob's voice sounded a little rough. Anybody who didn't know Bob might mistake it for gruffness. Frank just swallowed hard and watched Gerard squirm free of Mikey's grip.

He held his own hair back as he blew the candle out.

***

Frank somehow wound up riding shotgun--he didn't call it, he actively didn't call shotgun and somehow still ended up there. He propped his feet on the dash and rolled the window down, and the ride back to the hotel lasted two and a half cigarettes. He kept his eyes away from the mirrors, didn't even try to look back at Gerard. He could hear Bob and Ray and Mikey talking, and he could hear the silence (the negative space, Gerard would say) where Gerard wasn't saying a word.

At the hotel, Gerard grabbed hold of Frank's arm before they even got inside, and Frank called back a quick, "Night, guys!" as Gerard towed him to the nearest elevator. The doors cut off the sound of everyone else laughing, and Frank finally dared to actually look at Gerard.

Gerard's fingers tightened hard, squeezing all the way to the bone, but he gave Frank a goofy smile and said, "Hi."

Frank smiled back. Gerard's grip didn't really hurt--not at all, compared to what it meant, whatever Gerard was trying to conceal with his smile. It was weird not to know, instantly, what it was Gerard was trying to hide, even if it was good that the options were no longer more or less limited to how drunk he is and how scared he is. "Hi."

Frank thought he should probably say something else, but he had no idea what. Gerard just stood there, his smile twitching a little, his hand tightening and loosening arrhythmically on Frank's arm. When the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, Gerard hauled Frank out, nearly running over the people standing there waiting to get on.

"Hey," Frank said, looking around as Gerard dragged him down the hall. "Hey--Gerard--"

"Yeah," Gerard said, and that tone Frank knew, that was Gerard not paying attention to what he was saying at all.

Frank dug in his heels and pulled back against Gerard's grip, against momentum and Gerard's forty-pound advantage. His heels actually skidded about a foot over the carpet before Gerard snapped back, stumbling against Frank and nearly knocking him to the ground.

"Frank?"

"Gee--" Frank was grinning for real now, looking around, "Man, we're on the wrong floor."

Gerard looked around a little wildly, but those were definitely fours at the beginning of the room numbers, and this morning they'd definitely been eights. "Fuck."

"Not yet!" Frank was not giggling, no matter how much he could feel the hysteria clutching at his throat, because of course they couldn't yet, of course. "Come on, come on--"

They were both running, then. Gerard's hand slid down Frank's arm, and yeah, fuck it. They were holding hands and sprinting down the hotel hallway, laughing out loud at ass o'clock in the morning and probably pissing people off. Frank stabbed the up button frantically, and then Gerard was turning him around, pressing him up against the little strip of wall between elevator doors, the buttons against his back. He could almost feel the Braille instructions through his t-shirt.

Except he couldn't, really, because he was busy feeling Gerard pressed up against his front, grinding him into the wall. Gerard wasn't even kissing him, just pressing his forehead to Frank's and panting an inch away from his mouth, his hips rocking against Frank's like if an elevator didn't come soon they really were just going to do this right here, right now. Another few seconds and Frank was going to forget why that was a bad idea. It seemed like he'd been hard all day and if Gerard would just move a little...

The ding of the elevator arriving sounded like a church bell, and Gerard froze against him but didn't pull away, which was what saved them. That way they were both still pressed up tight against the wall beside the doors as they opened, and the sound of Ray and Bob laughing poured out into the hallway.

Frank felt his eyes go wide, and saw Gerard's mirroring them; he pressed his palm to Gerard's mouth just as Gerard did the same to him, but they were both holding their breath.

Frank heard Ray's voice, but not his words, over the rushing blood in his ears, and then Mikey said, "I didn't push the button, shut up."

Gerard sort of folded, his body shifting slightly away from Frank's as his head dropped against Frank's shoulder, and Frank shifted his hand from Gerard's mouth to the back of his neck, keeping him close, keeping him out of sight for the three seconds--the absolute fucking eternity--it took for Bob to say, "No, of course you didn't, Mikey," and the doors to close again on Ray laughing and Mikey protesting.

Gerard was shaking already, and Frank was laughing so hard he choked on his first deep breath. Gerard kissed clumsily at the side of his neck, open-mouthed, the sound of his laughter leaking out against Frank's skin. "Shit, shit, I’m sorry, this must be my karma or something. Jesus, Frankie."

Frank squirmed against Gerard, arching his back and rubbing his dick against the solidity of Gerard's thigh as he wormed a hand behind himself and blindly punched at the elevator buttons.

"Maybe it's my karma," Frank gasped. "Maybe this is what I get for taking advan--"

Gerard cut him off with a kiss, his tongue shoving into Frank's mouth, his dick against Frank's hip. It couldn't feel great, with Frank's belt and all, but Gerard wasn't backing off an inch. His chest pressed against Frank's with the speed and force of his breath, and Frank had to breathe in opposition, both of them panting against each other.

When the elevator chimed again, Gerard froze exactly the same way. Frank got a flash of déjà vu that rendered the moment just that little bit more surreal than making out with Gerard under the soft light of a hotel hallway at some unreal hour of the morning already was.

There was no sound from inside the elevator this time. Gerard leaned slowly sideways to look, peeling himself away from Frank an inch at a time, and then he was stumbling away all at once and Frank was coming after him on unsteady legs. They caught themselves against opposite corners and Frank hit the button for eight with a decisive jab of his finger.

They stood and stared at each other, breathing hard. Gerard's button-down shirt was all askew, the tail pushed up one side so that Frank could see a glimpse of white skin between the stark red of the shirt and black of his jeans. It looked like album art, like Gerard was one of his own paintings come to life. Like this new Gerard was something the old one dreamed up and brought to life, some kind of phoenix out of the wreckage, and if Frank ever told Gerard that it was going to turn into a whole Harry Potter discussion Frank couldn't really think about after spending the whole day staring at Gerard in a school uniform.

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Frank looked carefully at the display to see that they actually were on eight this time before he stepped out with Gerard at his side. They walked fast down the hall, without touching each other this time. Frank felt every beat of his heart all over his skin and in the hard throb of his dick, and he thought maybe he and Gerard were both holding their breath, waiting for something else to go wrong.

Gerard, miraculously, had his key card in his pocket. He even got it into the little slot on the door handle on the first or second try. Frank wasn't sure he'd ever seen Gerard do that before. He wanted to congratulate Gerard as he followed him inside, but he didn't really have a chance before Gerard was pressing him up against the inside of the door and kissing him.

This time Gerard wasn't touching him anywhere but the two hands holding his shoulders. The kiss was slower and gentler than any other all day, like now that they were here, actually here in their hotel room alone behind a locked door with actual beds...

Gerard broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against Frank's, and Frank blinked a few times, almost able to feel Gerard's eyelashes moving against his. The room was dark, and after the light of the hallway there was no way Frank could see anything.

"Frankie." Gerard laughed, not low enough to hide the nervousness in it, and here in the dark Frank could finally read him. "Shit, I--all day I've been trying to remember the last time I did this sober."

Performance anxiety, of fucking course. And tomorrow would be his first time performing in front of other people sober, even if it was just for the shoot and Gerard had spent all day today getting to know everybody who'd be there tomorrow, so it wouldn't seem like strangers by then. And in about sixty-two hours they'd be playing a show.

And right now they were doing this. Probably. If he could get Gerard out of the doorway, or at least out of his pants.

"Don't you fucking dare be scared of me," Frank breathed, pushing up on his toes and arching his back to get his hips up against Gerard's, glancing friction against his dick before he fell back onto his heels. "I will kick your ass."

Gerard laughed for real this time, short and breathless and high-pitched. "I think you're, um, you're not--I'm just saying, okay? I'm going to be totally impressive next time. Tonight not so much."

"Oh, uh, no," Frank agreed. God, his hands were shaking and they were going to be lucky if they got naked and horizontal. "No. Tonight's just soundcheck, right? Tonight we just, uh. Figure out where everything goes."

Frank got his hands onto Gerard's sides as he said it. Gerard wriggled under his touch as Frank's hands slid lower, looking for the end of his shirt.

"I think, um," Gerard said, his hands squeezing tight on Frank's shoulders, not at all trying to stop him. "That's--"

Frank found the hem, down somewhere on Gerard's hips, and slipped his hands under it, back up over Gerard's jeans until he found bare skin, and Gerard hiccupped a laugh or maybe a gasp. One of his hands left Frank's shoulder. "Maybe with lights--"

And then there was light. Frank barely saw it, barely saw Gerard's eyes, dark and intent, before Gerard's hand was cupping the back of his neck. Frank closed his eyes as Gerard drew him into a kiss. Gerard's hips pushed insistently against his, and Frank could feel Gerard's dick through both their jeans, hard as his own. They were pressed so close that Frank had to push Gerard back to get a hand down to Gerard's fly, and Gerard made little whining noises into Frank's mouth.

Frank mumbled reassurance against Gerard's lips, his hands shaking as he flicked open the button on Gerard's jeans and yanked the zipper down. The tails of Gerard's shirt fell down over his hands, so Frank couldn't even see what he was doing. It occurred to him that he should really get Gerard to the bed for this, but Gerard's hips shoved forward, and Frank's hand was on his dick through the thin barrier of Gerard's boxers. Frank gave up and shoved his hand into Gerard's pants, wrapping his fingers around Gerard's cock and pressing his mouth to Gerard's throat, Gerard's hair brushing against his closed eyes.

Frank could taste Gerard's sweat, feel the fever-heat of his skin--his throat under Frank's lips and tongue, his cock against Frank's fingers and palm. Gerard was pushing into Frank's grip, making hungry, desperate sounds. His hands were still on Frank's shoulders, pressing him hard into the door, and Frank's hips kept curling uselessly forward against nothing, his dick wanting the attention he was giving Gerard's.

Gerard gasped, "Frankie, shit, sorry--" and came in Frank's hand, shuddering and grinding against him.

Gerard's weight fell heavily against Frank, pinning him in place. Gerard's cheek pressed against his, and Frank could feel every quick gasping breath Gerard took, rushing against his own hot skin, Gerard's chest pressing against his. The beat was echoed in the pounding of blood in his dick, but Gerard was heavy and still and silent. Frank eased his hand away from Gerard's dick and wiped it on Gerard's undershirt.

He rested both hands on Gerard's hips, trying to get enough blood to his brain to figure out what to do next. He could just jerk off. God knew it wasn't going to take him a hell of a lot longer than it had taken Gerard, and then he could get himself and Gerard across the room to the bed. They might even get some sleep, if Gerard wasn't actually asleep on his feet already, and then they could get up tomorrow and do it all again. Even better.

Frank turned his head and kissed the corner of Gerard's mouth, grinning as he shifted his right hand from Gerard's pants to his own. They could do it again tomorrow, and again the day after that, as many times as they wanted to.

"Hey," Gerard said, right in Frank's ear. His hand caught Frank's wrist and squeezed. "Hey, what are you--gimme a second, huh?"

"Sorry," Frank said, not exactly sure what for. Maybe this was what it felt like being Gerard.

He let Gerard tug his hand away from his pants. He even let Gerard take a backward step, so that no part of his body was touching Frank's, except for his grip on Frank's wrist. Frank's fingers twitched a little, back toward his own pants. Seriously, he didn't even need to unzip. Gerard smiling at him like that, breathless and come-happy, was going to be enough in about thirty more seconds.

"Come on," Gerard said, tugging on his wrist. "Bed. Seriously."

Gerard was backing up and not letting go of Frank's wrist, so Frank stumbled after him.

Gerard grinned and added, "You have to at least lie down."

Frank nodded obediently. Lying down would be good, lying down would be great. Almost as great as getting his pants open.

Gerard pushed him down onto the bed and fell down beside him, laughing a little as he bounced, but Frank just squirmed and reached for his pants again, closing his eyes--Gerard looked so fucking happy, was looking at Frank like he was the cause of it. Frank couldn't keep watching that or he was going to be reliving yet more of high school in a really unnecessary way.

Gerard's hands tugged his away, and Gerard said, "Shh, hang on."

Frank jammed one fist against his mouth, biting his knuckles. He opened his eyes again just as Gerard eased his zipper down, his face hidden by his hair as he bent over Frank's lap. Frank squeezed his eyes shut and bit down harder and tried to think of something other than Gerard's head over his lap. The thinking didn't work, but the pain cut through and he could pant against his own skin without totally humiliating himself as Gerard's fingers hooked into his underwear and pulled his shorts and jeans off together, down to his knees.

"Hm, shoes," Gerard mumbled. Frank started kicking wildly, scraping the shoes off still-laced even though that would wreck the heels. They hit the ground with two quick, heavy thumps and Frank went still.

Gerard was laughing, breathing against the bare skin of Frank's thigh as he said, "I could've got those for you, Frankie."

Frank opened his eyes and his mouth, about to say something, but Gerard was sliding off the bed and onto his knees, taking Frank's pants the rest of the way off. Frank's mouth went dry.

Gerard rested his hands on Frank's thighs, tugged him a little closer--the bedspread bunched under his ass, and Frank couldn't help wriggling away from it, and Gerard's gaze dropped to Frank's dick, hard and bouncing with the motion.

"So like I said." Gerard leaned in, his thumbs digging into the insides of Frank's thighs, and then Frank could feel Gerard's breath against his dick. "I can't remember the last time I did this sober, so you'll have to bear with me."

"Oh, fuck," Frank muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. Gerard's laugh puffed hot against the head of his dick as Gerard's tongue pressed lightly against the head. "Fuck, Gee."

"Uhhhhm," Gerard said, lips and tongue and breath on Frank's cock. Frank was going to die from holding still in a minute, with Gerard's mouth right there.

"Probably not tonight," Gerard said, and his voice sounded like he was teasing Frank, which he totally was, tongue tracing down the underside of Frank's cock. Frank had no fucking clue what Gerard was talking about, and then Gerard's mouth closed over the head of his cock and Gerard sucked just once, softly, and Frank forgot how to talk.

His hips jerked up a little, and Gerard's mouth was gone, and Frank picked his head up, mouth open to babble out something that would make Gerard's mouth come back, except Gerard was grinning.

"Dude," Gerard said, looking and sounding dangerously pleased with himself. "It totally doesn't matter if I fuck up my voice for tomorrow, it's all going to be dubbed over."

Frank bit down hard on his lip and Gerard's hand wrapped tight around the base of his cock, and then Gerard was lowering his head again, and Frank watched as Gerard's mouth slid down over his cock, lips stretching around him and sinking down to meet his fist. Frank couldn't help thrusting up into the wet heat of Gerard's mouth, and Gerard just hummed and took his hand away, sinking lower.

Frank's hands were in fists, pressed to the outsides of his thighs, but he raised one unsteadily, brushing his knuckles against Gerard's cheek, his forehead. Gerard looked up through the fall of his hair, and he was smiling with Frank's dick in his mouth. Frank couldn't stop himself from moving again, and Gerard made a low noise back, sucking harder. Frank flattened his hand against Gerard's hair, tipped his head back, and came so hard he saw stars.

When he could breathe again, and realized that he was mostly just seeing the boring plaster ceiling of the hotel room, Frank looked down and saw that Gerard was still kneeling between his legs. Gerard's forehead was resting against Frank's hipbone, his mouth brushing softly against Frank's skin. Frank closed his hand in Gerard's hair and tugged a little.

"Gee, c'mere."

"Uh-huh," Gerard said, dragging his lips slow against the crease of Frank's hip. There was no way it should have felt that good, shivering all through him. Frank did a lazy little dance in place anyway, and Gerard's teeth scraped over his skin in a way that was going to get really distracting as soon as his dick started paying attention again.

"We should sleep," Frank said, tugging a little harder. Except now that the daze of coming was wearing off, he felt twitchy and wide awake. That gallon of coffee at the diner had probably been a bad idea.

"Yeah," Gerard said, sounding just as wide awake as Frank felt, his words still brushing Frank's skin. "Or we could, like. Take a shower."

Frank didn't even realize he'd decided to move before he was sitting up, and Gerard sat back to meet his eyes.

"We could get all clean," Gerard said, red lips smiling. His voice had gone all raspy and wasted but his eyes were still bright and clear. It was like last month's Gerard talking from the new Gerard's mouth, both of them meeting here at the point of sex with Frank, and Frank didn't even want to think about how perfectly right it felt to have them both, have all of Gerard here now.

Talking about taking a shower.

"And then we could get dirty all over again. And then clean again before it's time to go."

Frank stared, motionless, and watched Gerard's eyebrows go higher.

"I'm." Frank shook his head. "Sorry, I'm stuck on the part where you want to take a shower."

"With you, asshole," Gerard said, pushing up to his feet with his hands braced on Frank's knees. "It's all about motivation."

Frank pulled himself up with his hands on Gerard's hips, went on tiptoe to kiss him, and then followed him to the shower. Halfway there, he started laughing, and had to lean against Gerard, who just grinned and held him up.

"Bribing you," Frank giggled against Gerard's shoulder. "To get clean."

Gerard laughed back, like he was in on the joke, like it could possibly be funny, and Frank thought again, This is going to work. We are going to make this work.

***

Frank made sure to kiss Gerard in every take of the performance. He figured if he kept doing it, one of them was bound to make the final cut. It was kind of stupid and sentimental, but he wanted it there, even if what it meant probably wasn't quite what it looked like. Gerard never missed a beat, and Mikey and Ray just smirked between takes, and Bob twirled his drumsticks and stared into space, so Frank figured nobody really minded his personal crusade.

Except after the sixth take, Marc called a short break and dragged Frank behind the camera. The others all followed Frank out of the garage, in search of cool air and bottled water, and the driveway was crowded with cameras and cameraguys and hair and makeup girls and assistants to everybody. Bob was talking to Ray, miming drumming something with his empty hands, and Brian was wiping Mikey's glasses on the hem of his shirt, rolling his eyes at something. Gerard was standing in the middle of it all, hemmed in with a bottle of water in his hand, smiling at nothing, at everyone impartially.

Marc grabbed Frank's shoulder, focusing his attention. "Frank, look. Is the kissing thing important?"

"Um," Frank said, darting at glance around; nobody had spread out that far, and at least a dozen people had heard that perfectly well. Not that they hadn't all seen Frank doing the kissing thing in the last six takes, but he hadn't really thought he'd have to talk about it. But Marc was waiting for an answer, and Gerard turned his head, his smile focusing suddenly, sharply, on Frank.

He cleared his throat, forced his chin up, and met Marc's eyes. "Yes. It's important, yeah."

Marc rolled his eyes. "Okay, well I've got it from three different angles. I've got it. Now lay off and stop spending every run through figuring out how you're going to get over to Gerard on the beat, all right?"

Frank blinked. He thought he maybe remembered to nod, but mostly he just stared at Marc--who stared back, exasperated but leaving this up to him, up to them--until Gerard was suddenly crashing against Frank's side, pressing a wet smacking kiss to his cheek and a bottle of water into his hand.

Marc laughed. "Can you guys at least promise me that by the time we make another video, you'll have settled down enough to sleep at night?"

Gerard laughed too, rubbing his nose against Frank's hair and pressing closer. Over Marc's shoulder Mikey got his glasses back on just in time to start complaining about being scarred for life. Bob was still talking to Ray, both of them totally oblivious, and Brian had his face in his hands. Frank thought he was probably hiding a smile.

"Sorry," Frank said, leaning into Gerard. "No promises."