Look, Frank could say with complete honesty that he had reached the point of what-even-the-fuck when it came to his neighbor. Because really, this was no less than the third time this week that Frank has seen the dude’s very nice, perfectly round, ass. Like who does that? No seriously, who? Either his new neighbor is a werewolf or an exhibitionist. Or both.
Granted, he’s not seen any wolves or fur, but this guy is up so early and Frank’s kitchen window is totally not the best vantage point (unlike his bedroom, but he feels creepier spying from there). But like the dude stirs early! Like up with the sun oh-dear-gods-and-monsters-is-that-actually-the-sun-o’clock. Which Frank only even knows because he’s been working the night shift at that vamp bar over on Quincy and doesn’t get home until just past day break. So, honestly, it isn’t Frank’s fault that he’s starting to develop a ridiculous crush on this dude. Who’s now walking his bulldog and at least wearing sweatpants and a belly top. Frank cannot even.
“Basically what I’m hearing is that this dude is totally your type and you’re too chicken shit to talk to him,” Jamia concludes, after Frank has wound down with his usual rant.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Frank grumbled. “I’m saying that either my neighbor is a werewolf or an exhibitionist.”
“And that he has a really nice ass that you could write sonnets to if you wrote sonnets, blah-blah-blah,” she said, sounding just a little bit bored as he could hear her quick knifework. If he wasn’t busy having a small crisis he’d ask her to save him a bowl of the soup of the day.
“Jamia, you don’t understand,” Frank started, voice bordering on a whine.
“Frankie, honey, I say this with all the love I can as your very best friend,” she said cutting him off. “Either suck it up and go ask him out, or in, or whatever. Shit or get off the pot. You’ve been on and on about this dude for three months. Damnfuckshit, the cauldron’s boiling over. Later babe.”
She hung up and Frank glared at his phone then back out the window. The guy was gone, probably further down the block. He thought about calling Gerard to complain about the whole situation, but the dude was probably already in bed like a mostly reasonable ghoul.
Frank should get into bed actually. He had another shift tonight. Helping Mikey out was fine, but he missed his normal, reasonable hour shifts at Ray’s. He’d also not gotten to go to a proper punk show in ages. Sure, the bands Mikey found were interesting in a Morrissey-navel-gazing-low-key kind of way, but it was hard to mosh to that shit on his breaks.
The doorbell rang. Frank froze. Who the shit rings someone’s doorbell? At - Frank glanced down at his phone - 9:03 in the morning? What. The. Shit.
He crept down the hallway. Maybe if he was quiet enough and it turned out to be one of the traveling potion salesmen, he could just creep on up to his bedroom and pretend he wasn’t home.
Once he was close enough, he dared a look out the peep hole and just stopped. His hot neighbor was on his front porch stoop. Just standing there. Grinning like he knew what Frank was up to, bulldog at his feet.
“Well, shit, now I get to have the ‘Stop Being Creepy’ talk,” he muttered and did not thwack his head against the door like he wanted to. Smoothing down his hair, he squared his shoulders and opened the door.
“Hi?” he said, not at all smoothly and then just decided fuck it. “Lemme guess. You wanna borrow a cup of sugar or tell me to quit staring at your very nice ass?”
“You think I have a nice ass, huh?” The dude grinned, looking pleased and smug and Frank knew he was already stupid for this guy.
“That I do,” he extended his hand. “I’m Frank. Iero.”
“James Dewees,” Dewees said, clasping his hand firmly. “Speaking of sugar, I actually planned to make a few dozen cookies this afternoon. Well actually, the plan involved bringing over some cookies as ‘Thanks for staring longingly at my ass’ present, but I wanted you to be able to eat the cookies. So, any allergies I should know about?”
Frank could not stop the charmed grin that slid onto his face. “Honestly, this is totally not how I expected this conversation to go.”
“Clearly, you’ve underestimated not only my ability my ability to notice my cute-as-shit neighbor staring at my ass, but also my superior cookie-wooing skills,” Dewees said, somehow looking even more smug. Frank started to suspect that James was confident in a lot of areas.
“In that case, dairy is not my friend and if I wasn’t tired as fuck, I’d invite you inside right now, but I’d probably fall asleep on you,” Frank said.
“Challenge accepted,” Dewees said. “And I’d take you up on that offer if I thought you needed a guard dog for your beauty sleep.” He winked.
Well, that answered the werewolf question. Hot. Frank thought. “So, I work tonight, but I’m off the next two. You should come over tomorrow afternoon? Say, around 4? Unless you’d like your home territory?”
“Nah dude, I said I’d bring the cookies over,” Dewees waved a hand in dismissal. “Besides, I want you comfortable for all the making out we’re going to do.”
“Making out, huh?” Frank asked, smile turning coy.
“Indeed,” Dewees confirmed. “Maybe even with tongues if you’re a good boy.”
“You know, that’s an awful lot on offer,” Frank said and stopped, biting his lip a little.
“But?” Dewees prompted, smiling like he knew exactly where Frank was going with this but he wanted to hear him say it.
“But, I think, it’d be nice to have something to look forward to. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little of a preview, right?” Frank lifted an eyebrow, leaning in ever-so-slightly and tilting his head to the side to expose his neck.
Dewees gave the faintest intake of breath and reached slowly out. His knuckles brushed Frank’s exposed neck causing Frank to give an encouraging noise and he lightly rested his hand on Frank’s neck.
“You are just as much of a little shit as I thought you were going to be,” Dewees said, letting out a shaky breath.
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” Frank smirked. “Kiss me and find out for sure.”
“I bet you are the toppiest bottom,” Dewees mumbled, closing the space between them. He nosed along Frank’s cheek, getting oh-so-close to Frank’s mouth.
“Oh you have no idea,” Frank said and then stopped talking as Dewees lips met his own, soft, firm press.
Frank immediately reached out, hand fisting in Dewees’ tshirt to pull him closer as he angled his chin to deepen the kiss, challenging. Dewees hummed against Frank’s lips and, obligingly, opened his mouth. Frank moaned and shifted, trying a different angle.
They kissed against the frame of Frank’s door so long that the dog at Dewees’s feet got bored and flopped between their feet, breaking them apart. Frank giggled and Dewees sighed.
“Buddy, you’re really cramping my style,” Dewees said, giving a little tug on the leash. The dog looked up at him, unrepentant.
Bending down, Frank reached his hand out for the dog to sniff who promptly licked it and rolled over for belly scratches. As Frank got done petting and stood back up, meeting Dewees’ eyes.
“So?” Dewees asked. “I think that gives you a pretty good idea where I’m going with this, my form, ability to take direction and improvisation.”
Frank tried to school his face to something serious as he nodded, but couldn’t help smiling when he said, “I do look forward to doing this over cookies tomorrow.”
“Excellent,” Dewees grinned, looking like a cat left in a creamery. “I look forward on continuing this discussion. If you play your cards right, I’ll even make you dinner after you show me your bedroom.”
“Bold! I might even make my bed in anticipation,” Frank said.
“Don’t do anything special on my account,” Dewees said, trying to encourage the bulldog to flop back over to his feet.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Frank gave a little nod of his head. “One for the road?”
“Absolutely.” Dewees agreed, standing back up and tilting Frank’s chin up with his hand. The kiss was firm, but oddly chaste, a promise for tomorrow. Frank gave a happy sigh as he pulled away, that turned into a yawn.
“Get you ass to bed. I need you rested to fully appreciate my epic cookies,” Dewees ordered, “as well as my fantastic wooing skills tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Frank said, watching as Dewees led his dog down the steps.
Pausing to turn around, Dewees said, “Hey Frank.”
“Yeah?” Frank asked.
“Glad you stared at my ass enough to get my attention. Please enjoy yourself as I strut away,” Dewees tipped an imaginary hat. Frank giggled, but couldn’t help but to enjoy the show of Dewees’ butt through the tight, threadbare sweatpants he was wearing.
“Me too,” Frank agreed with a happy sigh and could hear Dewees laugh all the way back into his house.