Learning to Communicate

[Thanks for the support once again. This chapter is fairly long, but the story is drawing to a close. Exciting isn't it? Remember that reviews are love, and that I appreciate all of my readers. -C Star]

Chapter 7 - The Fab and The Fake

I awoke the next morning still sleeping against my headboard. I clenched my eyes shut tight against the morning light, trying in vain to ignore it for just a little longer. However, my thoughts started leaking in, and the events of the previous night threw themselves at my head. Oh man. Forget that. Oh shit! I groaned, pulling myself up to sit. My head hurt incredibly and I didn't know a patch of skin on my body that didn't cry out in protest to moving. I tentatively reached back and drew my fingers through the gross wound on the back of my neck. It seemed to be dry. I was probably overexaggerating it in my mind anyway.

Gotta get up, gotta go to your brothers, I told myself, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. More groaning. Bruises I knew I was going to have always hurt more than you think they will. And well, to eliminate the awkwardness, yes, my ass was sore. In light of that, I realized I had forgotten the most important part of my morning.

"Frankie?" He wasn't on the bed. I shuffled over to my pants and shoved them on as best I could, opening my bedroom door. The television was on and food smells were coming from the kitchen. He was there, mixing something in a bowl, his mouth hanging open a little due to the TV's distracting pictures of a high speed chase. I watched without saying anything, taking in the moment for what it was worth. Let's be honest. The last few times I had slept with someone, they hadn't bothered to stay til morning. Here was Frank though, loyally making breakfast. In the nude. I couldn't help laughing now. His ears pricked and he turned and smiled. "Whatcha makin'?" I asked, coming closer and sitting at the bar. There was nothing but a huge mess in his wake. There was a box of Bisquick sitting out amongst the egg shells, spilled milk, and measuring cups, so I assumed pancakes. I looked at the box. "Are you really reading that recipie?" I suddenly found myself asking. No answer. Frank continued stirring, still watching TV. I did so as well after a moment, letting him resume his cooking. I supposed I just had to trust him. If they came out awful, well, so much for that. Not like I needed them that much anyway. I watched as he spread them out across the hot surface burner, but finally intervened when it was quite clear he had neither mastered flipping them over or that the spatula was in fact used for that purpose.

We sat on the couch with our pancakes, one side burned and the other a little undercooked. Save for that, they weren't bad. The whole time, my mind wandered back to the recipie on the box and Frank. If he could make out the recipie, wasn't it fair to say he had learned how to read? He could have just recognized all the little pictures, where the box showed an egg or a bowl. I could always look it up in my book. I glanced at Frank. He had already finished and settled his still naked body closely into mine. He hadn't taken his eyes off me yet. It was a little unerving, but what was I supposed to say? Stop, you're freaking me out? I had slept with the guy. Guy. Frankie wasn't exactly a man, but he wasn't an animal. What had I really done, I wondered. His eyes were still burning holes into me when I set my plate aside and ran my arm around him. He cooed, nuzzling his face into my bare chest. His ears tickled and I giggled, reaching up to pet his head. I ran it all the way down his back and around his tail. He made more noises and slid himself practically into my lap. I put my hands on his hips as they gently straddled my thighs, his arms winding around my neck. "What?" I asked quietly, even as his lips found mine. I waited. His mouth opened against mine, his tongue slipping out and lingering gently against the corner of mine. I caved after a moment and opened my mouth as well, turning my face into the kiss. He was pleased. His ears twitched.

As much as I wanted to let him continue, I broke away after a moment. Looking into his lap, I could tell he wanted to keep going too. "We have to get dressed. We're going to Mikey's, remember?" I said, pulling my mouth back even after he attempted to reclaim it again. He sighed softly. It was probably the tone in my voice, but he got off and headed for our room. I followed closely behind.

..::||~*~||::..

Anna opened the door. "Hi Gerard! Hi....um, Frank." She stared at him, cocking her head a little and frowning.

"I let him dress himself this morning," I said, explaining why Frank was wearing bright orange surf shorts, a pink striped button down, and rainboots. He sniffed her face a few times before walking in and heading for the kitchen. We tended to spend most of our time in there. Then again, Anna liked to cook, Frank liked to watch, and Mikey and I liked to eat. I passed her, bending down and setting my ear to her stomach. "Hello," I called, pretending to knock. She laughed. "Not yet. Just a few more weeks."

Mikey was sitting at their kitchen table. "Hey," he said. He frowned. "Why does Frankie look like he's been playing in a Goodwill bin?"

"Gerard didn't feel like dressing him this morning," Anna said on my behalf.

"Ah. And he got your shirt from....?"

Anna and I looked. She reached out, fingering the material. "He's right. That is my shirt." She looked at me. I shrugged. "Is there anyway you might have left it there?" I asked. She shooed Frankie away from a large pot, looking inside. She shrugged. "I must have. Hun, watch these," she said, gesturing. "I'm going to sit down for a little bit." She walked off towards their room. Mikey looked at me from over the top of his glasses. "She'll probably lie down actually. I told her she should just stay there if she needs to."

"Oh yeah," I said, sitting down across from him. "She doesn't have to do anything for Frank and I." Frank was sitting on a stool, watching the water boil through a glass lid.

"You look awful. Did you sleep last night?" he asked, squinting at me slightly. I hated when he did that. It was a brother thing, I was fairly sure. It meant he was about to go prying and I would spill everything. To save myself from extreme embarrassment in front of my sister-in-law, I hunched forward on the table.

"Uh, no, not really," I said, casting a look to Frank. "Look, don't tell Anna?" I asked off the bat. Mikey leaned in, nodding. A serious look came over his face and his brows drew close together. Mom used to call it his 'Sherlock Holmes' face. Unfortunately, Mikey probably couldn't have guessed his way out of a paper bag as a kid.

"Last night, Frankie crawled into bed, and well, you know that problem he's been having?" I asked.

"The horny thing?"

"Yeah that. Well, I. Ugh. Okay, so last night, I let him....I let him...." I faltered, my hands spread out in an empty gesture. I let him fuck me. Now, to spill that out into the empty space between us. Much easier thought than said. Though it had been hella easy to do.

Mikey cast a glance to Frankie and then back to me. "What?" I looked at Frank and then to my brother. I gestured crudely, kind of smashing my hands together and making a face. His expression of realization lit up much faster than I thought it would.

"No!" he breathed loudly. He looked between us again and grabbed my forearm. "No!" he hissed, half smiling.

"Stopit!" I crushed together, glaring. "Shut up. Yes, okay?" I took a huge breath. Well at least I had conveyed my message. I looked up at him again. He was smirking. "What?" I asked, annoyed.

"No way. No fuckin' way."

"Yes!" I insisted. "I so did! I even- Look!" I whirled around in my chair and pointed, moving some of my hair off the back of my neck. I could still feel his bite mark throbbing very dully by now. Mikey gasped and practically lunged across the table to see.

"Oh my god, Gee. It...holy shit, you have a huge bite on the back of your neck."

"Oh no, really Michael? I didn't know. I was only there when he was shredding my skin in his teeth." I turned around and started swatting him away. He tried to do it back. I mostly ignored the fact we probably looked like little girls trying to hit each other. He grabbed my shoulder though and held my arm down, looking at it closer. He whistled low. "Damn. He got you real good." He looked over at Frankie, snickering.

"It's just so wild," he said, sitting back down.

"I know," I said miserably. "And, what do I do now? Just keep doing it?"

"Sure."

"What?"

"Why not?" has asked, leaning back. "You two obviously have a connection. Before last night, of course. I mean, you really care about him, right? And look at him, Gerard. He's pathetically in love with you because you rescued him from, like, a pet shop orphanage. He's not going anywhere. He just wants your attention, and I know that you....you want someone's attention too."

Mikey wasn't one with words more often than not, but what he said really touched on me. I casually looked over my shoulder. Frankie was playing with a wooden spoon, listening to the noise to made while he swished it around. Mikey was right. And I hated to admit that. So I didn't out loud, of course.

"So?" he asked.

"So what?"

"Sooo....how was it?"

"Don't be gross." I crossed my arms over my chest, kicking my legs out slightly. He leaned his elbows onto the table and waited. "Fine! It was fabulous," I grumbled. He smiled. "It was really uncomfortable though, and I still think it's not right."

Mikey shifted in his chair. "You think your night was bad. At least you had sex."

I nodded. "Oh yeah. I guess Anna wouldn't really go for that."

"No, no, just the opposite. She really wanted to do it."

I frowned. "Oh. So. What's the problem?"

His eyes got big behind his glasses. "That is the problem. She's pregnant! I don't wanna have sex with her!"

"Mikey!"

"No! I mean." He took a breath. "Look, I love her and I think she's just as beautiful as ever, but I'm worried having sex isn't really, you know, all that good for her right now. She's already so tired and the baby is almost here anyway. I read sex can induce labour."

"Don't you think you're being a little bit paranoid?" I asked. I really didn't know myself. Never had sex with a pregnant girl.

"I'm just afraid that I'll, I dunno. Break her."

I coughed. "Mikey, you're a freakin' twig. If anything, she'd break you."

He scowled. "Thanks. Thanks a lot." He took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. It was kind of a habit he had when he was thinking. He set them back on his face. "Last night, she really wanted to- you know. So I....pretended that I already...." At this he made a rather crude gesture near his inner thigh. God, was it that hard to say 'shot', 'orgasmed', 'came' or someother bullshit to my face? His face turned red. I sat there for a moment, absorbing what he had told me.

"You faked it?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow. His blush only deepened. "You faked it? To get out of actually having sex with your wife? How the hell...?"

"Well, usually before we- NO, I'm not telling you!"

"I don't wanna know!" I said, exasperated. That was a bit of a lie. No, it was completely a lie. I really wanted to know how the hell he did that.

"You don't wanna know what?" Anna asked, coming back into the kitchen. She removed the spoon from Frankie's hand.

"Mikey faked it."

In the shock of hearing Frankie talk for the very first time, the exact meaning of his sentence was lost. Lucky for Mikey.

..::||~*~||::..

We literally spent the rest of our day trying to make Frankie talk again, but not another word came from his lips. I think we were confusing him with all our excitement. His eyes had been as big as ours at first, looking to us hopefully as though he wanted to make sure we understood him. Eventually, he went and hid behind an armchair for a few hours. I fished him out when it was time to leave.

"Please, just say it again," I asked in the car. Frank was quiet. He stared out the window the whole ride, sometimes tracing outlines of things with his finger pressed to the glass. I watched and wondered what he was thinking.

I got my keys ready as we walked up to my door. My upstairs neighbor, though his name escapes me, was standing by his own door. He eyed Frank a little strangely. "You live there, right?" he asked, pointing below him. "Huh?" He caught me off gaurd. I took a step back to look up at him. "Yes, I live here," I said.

"Well, not to be complaining, but we could hear a lot of noise last evening, and we were wondering if it was your...." He squinted at Frank.

"Uh, yeah," I said slowly, looking at Frankie. "I'm really sorry," I started to say.

He shook his head. "Well, if you could maybe just keep him quiet tonight." He jerked his thumb at the apartment next to him. "I know she said she heard him too, and I'll bet your neighbor did as well." I felt my embarrassment rise, but I kept it cool. I nodded again. So much for 'not complaining'. I stuck Frank inside and closed it after me.

I didn't make dinner. I didn't feel like eating. Frank had already undressed himself and crawled into my bed. I showered, letting the water run over my body. I closed my eyes and pushed my fingers through my wet hair. I don't think I had ever felt so tired. I dried off and didn't bother to put on anything. I groped through the dark and got into bed, sliding next to Frankie. He wasn't asleep it turned out. He popped up next to me, inching over. I ran my arms around his waist and pulled him into me. He sniffed. I bet I probably smelled pretty good compared to last night. His lips moved around the side of my neck, licking at my earlobe.

"Not tonight," I said, moving a little. I kept my arms around him though, trying not to put too much distance between us. He only moved in closer, trying to kiss my mouth. I wanted to kiss him, but the words of the upstairs tenant were still in my head. I couldn't let this lead into more....er, noise. And if it kept up, people would actually figure out what was going on. I did not know how people would take that.

He placed his leg over mine, trying to get over me. He moved again, whining a little. "No Frank. Lay down," I said again, firmer. He looked right at me. "I know you can understand me, okay?" I said, though a part of me still wondered at the truth in that statement. He reached down and wrapped a hand around my shaft. I sat up, though a good deal of it was because of my surprise.

"No!" I insisted. I grabbed his wrist under the blankets and pulled him off. I forced him to sit down next to me. Not on me or in my lap or cuddled into my side. "Now, you stay there. I said no." I felt silly, like I was talking to a child. Frank was staring at me again, but instead of looking adoring, he just looked sad. I opened my mouth but I could already see his eyes watering. "I'm sorry, but we can't," I said. He put my hand on him in some desperate attempt to get me to comply. I snatched my hand back. "Stop it!" I cried. I was scowling. He started crying. It was a terrible sound, half sobbing and half of that eerie noise he had been making last night. Either way, it was loud.

"No, no, shh, shh, shut up!" I tried, first cooing and quickly starting to hiss at him. "Shut up, shut up!" I grabbed his shoulders and shook him lightly. He only got louder and louder. "Shut up Frankie!" I yelled. He was starting to make a weird heaving noise. I was starting to panic. I wildly looked at all of the walls, imagining all of my neighbors pressing their ears to the walls and shaking their heads in disgust. I couldn't deal with it. Frank was complicating my life. I didn't want everyone in the whole goddamn building to get into my business.

"Frankie, you stop crying right this fuckin' minute!" I ordered, digging my short nails into his skin. He yipped, trying to get away from me. I held onto him though. "You want something? You have to tell me. I know you can talk, so fucking do it!" I yelled. "Why can't you just make things easy for me? All you ever do is play dumb and I'm so sick of it. Talk, Frankie, talk!" I growled and said the one thing I always thought I would never say. "I wish I had never brought you home!"

I never saw it coming. I couldn't believe he slapped me across the face. I don't think he could believe it either. He was still breathing heavily, his cheeks shiney and wet. All I could think about was how much my face hurt. Frankie slinked off the bed, his naked body hunched over and his arms tight around his chest. He didn't look at me as he dissapeared into his den, pulling the blanket closed. My face stung as I laid down, my eyes fixed on the ceiling.

When I opened my eyes again, light was coming in my bedroom. I didn't think twice before calling out softly. "Frankie?" He had never come back to bed. I looked over at his den. The blanket was pulled up, and there was no shadowy form of him inside. I crawled out of bed, clasping the sheet around my waist. My bedroom door was open.

"Frank?" The TV was still off, and no one was in the kitchen. I blinked and shivered. My living room had a breeze going through it. I turned.

The front door was standing wide open.