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Birds of a Feather
Kitty/Lindsey/Frank. NC-17. 7600 words.

Summary: Lindsey and Frank lock horns over stupid shit until Kitty's ready to strangle them both (or initiate angry!sex, whichever comes first.)
Warnings: Angst and angry!sex.

Notes: For the [profile] bandomrarepair challenge. Um, I'd consider this an AU if I were you. An asshole!bandperson AU. I totally messed with the timeline and made up that MCR and MSI toured together stateside right before MCR's fateful trip to Japan. Also, if rock band tours aren't full of people who can dig deep, build up quality rage, and piss each other off just because they can, I'll eat my bartskull-festooned hoodie.

Kitty is ready to kill them both.

It started out alright.

Lindsey had been working herself into a ragefest for a while, as she does periodically, flipping off every asshole in her path instead of ignoring them and pranking more people with Steve, nothing unusual.

But then.

The both of them are such fucking pissy, nasty, rude assholes.

Kitty's gonna clock their heads together if they keep this up.


"Get the fuck off my amp," some short dude snarls at Lindsey, and holy crap, who peed in his Cheerios today?

"Shit, you don't even know what you're talking about," Lindsey fires back, and oh fuck, she's already in one of her moods.

"You better step off, bitch," the dude growls, and hoshit, he did not just say that. Plus, the dude's hot in that "I know it, so I'm a douchebag" kind of way, so Lindsey'd probably rip off his nuts on principle right about now.

"Would your amp be the one that says MSI on it?" Kitty steps in. Lindsey's back is poker-straight when she steps back from the amp to reveal the whole logo.

"Aw, fuck," the guy mutters, and skulks off.

"Yeah that's right bitch. Keep walking," Lindsey throws to the dude's back. He flips her off and Lindsey copies the gesture.

"Save me from fucking grumpy divas," Kitty says to Steve. Steve snorts and eyes her, as if he's suggesting something.

Kitty pokes him in retaliation.


"So you're like, the pretty one, right?" the interviewer asks Lindsey. Lindsey's eyebrows rise towards her hairline, and Kitty mouths fuck at Jimmy. Jimmy's looking bored but Steve is grinning from ear to ear in anticipation. Lindsey cuts out some biting reply to the interviewer that Kitty's not even sure didn't go over her head.

"Yeah, I'm the pretty one in the band, everyone knows that," Jimmy says to the interviewer. "Have I ever told you about my Uncle Filbert? He could light his own farts, before he passed away in that one tragic accident. I'm gonna try to see if Filbert passed along the talent to me later on, you wanna watch?"

Steve's face nearly splits in two watching the woman backpedal so fast. Kitty pushes at her cuticles and wonders when Jimmy will get bored enough to actually sniff around for some matches.


Steve's the only one suicidal enough to joke about hormones when Lindsey gets like this, mostly because they're tight enough that she only pinches him viciously and then Steve gets to make jokes about liking it rough.

Lindsey still doesn't kill him. Kitty just yells instead. It makes her exhausted, all the outpouring of emotion.

"-so get your two-toned, muskrat-chewed ass over here before I kick it over here," she finishes, pissed off, loud, and getting tired. Soon she'll be the one mocking DJs out of overtired-ness, or whatever the fuck Lindsey's problem is. Jesus, Lindsey pisses her off when she's like this.


Kitty is passing by the bathrooms and hears Jimmy's voice. Four guys are lined up some feet away from low wall with a beer can perched on top. Apparently Jimmy's been chosen as referee.

"Hit the top, hit the top," Jimmy is yelling. Dan the tour manager aims and misses.

"Oooh, you suck donkey balls," the amp-stealing asshole says. He's got a baseball cap on sideways and either a shiner on his face or he's wearing makeup. Makeup. With a sideways black cap. What a douchebag.

"You do it better," says Dan. The asshole dude take time to hork up a spitball but misses too. Jimmy laughs.

"Nah, fuckit," says the asshole. Him and a hulking, barrel-chested guy take turns aiming and mostly missing, while some drunk, smelly guy wanders out of their lineup and staggers by Kitty.

"Hello!" the smelly dude says. He's out of it but nice. Lindsey cruises by and chats with them about cloud formations for a while. "Not cats, they're a feeee-line menace," the dude slurs, and then wanders off away from them.

"Frank, Frank, try this," and hulking guy spits out the side of his mouth. The hot asshole -Frank- copies him.

His aim is way off. His spit lands on Lindsey's shoes. Jimmy conceals a snort, badly.

"What the fuck," Lindsey snarls. "You again."

"Uh, whoops." He snickers stupidly. "It's a present, cause I like you so much," asshole-Frank says. Jimmy clucks his tongue to chide and Lindsey's gritting her teeth.

Hulking Guy says, "Where'd Gerard go? Frank, Frank, go find him."

Frank takes off after the drunk guy, pretty quickly. It's probably not because he's intimidated by them now.

They play a set, and another, and another, and Kitty would almost forget she was touring with this random-ass band, it's not like she even watches their show, maybe just a couple pieces of it. She's busy with her own shit and her own band's shit.

"Do you have...two red fish?" Kitty asks.

"Go Fish," Steve intones. Kitty grumbles and gets up dusting off her knees. They've modified their game to include a variation on fishing. Drunk fishing, mostly. Kitty has to make a run back to 7-11 for another twelve-pack. They're on sale, two for one.

Lindsey comes with. It's dark and carrying twelve-packs is heavy work.

There's a thud-thud-thud of someone running their way. It's dark, and Kitty really can't see too well (and who goes running in the dark anyway?) when all of a sudden someone hits her bodily and she falls, clacking her jaw against something bony.

"What? What's, who's? What's going on?" slurs a vaguely familiar voice. The face of Frank-the-asshole rolls into view right next to her. He's got crazy red makeup smeared over his eyes, so Kitty can't tell if he's actually hurt or just a dressed-up asshole. Kitty's confused, and Frank doesn't look any clearer on current events, sitting up. He raises his hand up between them, palm up, wavering.

"Motherfucking asshole!" Lindsey swears. "Can't you do anything right?"

Frank's expression solidifies into anger. "Watch the fuck where you're going!"

"Shit, look who's talking," Kitty mumbles and rubs her jaw. He smacked into her but good.

Lindsey's seething in an instant. "Are you always this much of a fucking asshole?"

"Are you two always such fucking pussies?" Frank shoots back. He clamors to his feet and yanks up Kitty along the way, jarring her up by the elbow. Shit, he's a strong little asshole.

"Aw, shit," he says, and wipes his mouth. There's something bright red on his hands, his nose. "Shit, nosebleed, out of the way, motherfuckers!" He makes it to the 7-11 side-door of a grungy men's bathroom as some dude's passing out of it. "I'll sneeze blood on you, move your ass!"

Lindsey's incredulous. "What. The fucking fuck. Was that."

"I don't even know. Maybe he's drunk," Kitty says. She's rubbing her sore jaw and her sore elbow now. They grab the two cases of sale beer left in the store. They stick them on the counter in front of the bored cashier and then bicker about getting pork rinds or hot fries. Lindsey waves her over to the slurpees.

Frank comes in with tissue stuck up both his nostrils, blood on the collar of his shirt, and his sleeves rolled up to show cut arms and his farmer's tan. "Shit, are these the sale ones?" he says to the cashier. "I'll just take these." And then he does, throwing bills over his shoulder. The cashier swears at him. The girls gape.

"Fuck, I hate that little fucker," Lindsey says feelingly. Kitty just sticks her arms akimbo (ow, her elbow, OW) and yells at the asshole to come back here and fight like a man.


Mindless Self Indulgence totally kicked ass, kicked ass and took names at the next couple shows. Who cares if My Chem had technical difficulties. Not Kitty, that's for sure. Well, Ray Toro and the singer seemed pretty nice. Kitty can beat them both at checkers with half her brain turned on and they didn't steal her beer (or the singer did sometimes, but he was very sweet otherwise and gave good makeup tips.) They were A-okay in her book.

"You're a shitty singer. Your voice could punch babies." Frank's just hanging around. He doesn't even having that hulking guy egging him on this time, he's just insulting everyone passing by for shits and giggles. "I can play all your guitar lines with one hand. You suck."

He's sporting heavy black eyeliner, fucking rings in his nose and lip, and a starburst bruise on the bridge of his nose. It's real, not painted on, and Kitty takes small pleasure in that while Frank's insulting everyone. He's such a fucking douchebag. It's too bad he's got pretty lips and smells good despite bus living. Kitty'd almost fuck him, otherwise.

"You suck at bass. You couldn't play for quarters." Lindsey throws him a look and keeps walking. He gets up from his spot and tags after them. "You couldn't play for beans. Your mom plays bass better than you."

"Your mom plays guitar better than you," Lindsey throws nonchalantly over her shoulder and keeps walking with Kitty.

"Your mom wishes I could bone her all night long."

"Your mom wishes she didn't have a loser freak for a son."

"Your mom wishes she didn't have a talentless hack for a daughter."

Lindsey goes for his throat. It takes a split-second too long for Kitty to decide that that particular incident shouldn't happen and get between them, but Frank dodges out of the way anyway. He fucking snarls at them and gets in Kitty's face when she's holding Lindsey back. She shoves Frank back by the shoulder, and he bangs loudly into the cab of a bus, his stupidly too-tight shirt riding up and exposing a pale belly and pretty birds. Kitty's eyes shoot up to his face, and he bares his teeth at them and slides away behind the bumper, disappearing. It takes a second for her to catch her breath, and then she's just angry all over.

"What the fuck. Did we just get into a fucking your mom contest with him?" Kitty's disgusted. She's letting one asshole get to them too much if that's happening.

"I'm going to kill that dickwad," Lindsey grits out.

"Not over mom insults, you're not." Kitty decides, then and there, that this is the end. She's not taking any more stress from some hot douchebag who can't even tell where the lines are. No one should go for the gut with mom jokes, no one. Lindsey needs a talking-to as well.


"Maybe he loves you," Steve teases Lindsey. "Maybe you set his soul on fire."

"I'll set him of fucking fire. Where's my lighter," Lindsey growls. Steve guffaws.

Kitty interupts before Lindsey stabs out his liver. "Do you know what Frank's fucking problem is? Stick up his ass, mommy never loved him, anything?"

"I dunno, he was pretty chillax when we played D&D with him a couple nights ago."

"Oh fuck me dry, stop it with the chillax thing already." Lindsey rubs her eyes. Steve pulls a face and wiggles his ears at her. Lindsey laughs. "I'll punch you."

"Sure," he says. "Hey, I think Jimmy got those new socks you wanted. He says he's sorry for pissing in your watercolors too."

"New socks!" Kitty says the same time as Lindsey. "He better have got me some too, he owes me."

"Yeah, yeah, take it up with the pointy-haired man." Steve waves them off, and Kitty follows Lindsey because she'll needle someone, anyone, in order to get new socks. She's got tons of blackmail material stored up just for instances like this.

It turns out Jimmy has in fact already gotten her new socks. And bright pink Jolly Roger hair ribbons. Kitty fucking loves her band.


"Where the fuck is Mikey?"

"I don't know!"

"Where the fuck is he, Frank? You lost him. Again. Fuck."

And woah, Kitty should not be hearing this. She's pissing in the bushes because wow, some arena bathrooms are just not viable for women. Especially port-a-johns. Especially well-used ones.

"Fuck, is he with Gerard?"

"No, Gee's with someone else, you know he is. Where the fuck is Mikey? You'd better fucking find him, he was your job last night-"

"I know, I know," and the thing is, Frank doesn't even seem aggravated, just tired. Just sick and tired out of his mind. "I'll check the-I know a couple places. I'll find him, you know I will." Frank wipes over his face and bows his head. He walks off quickly, and the other guy spits in the dirt and walks in the opposite direction.

Kitty zips up. She doesn't follow either of them. Why would she? No business of hers.


Kitty has to haul herself in between them for the second time this weekend. She shoulders them apart from where they're fucking ridiculously chest-to-chest with each other, staring each other down. Or well, chest-to-chin, but Frank isn't leering, just smugly derisive.

"Oh yeah," Frank scoffs, all up in Lindsey's face. "And what the fuck would you know about that, girl."

Lindsey balls up her hands and swings for his face.

She misses. Frank ducks and spins and she gets his shoulder. He favors his shoulder, a little slumped, and sniggers at her. Lindsey shakes out her hand and glares murderously.

"All fucking right!" Kitty yells. They both jump. "We're going to fucking stop -no, no, I'm fucking stopping you two from your dumbass war."

"You don't even fucking-" Lindsey gets out but Kitty talks over her.

"I don't care! I don't want to spend the whole tour breaking up fights with a tourmate, of all people, and you," Kitty glares at Lindsey, who's looking more mulish by the second, and so is Frank. "I don't want to keep stopping you from breaking your delicate artiste hands while we're on tour. For fuck's sake." Kitty has to take a breath after that. Frank's opening his mouth to talk, and nothing good has come from him so far, ever, so-

"No, shut up, I don't care. Go cry for someone else to beat your issues out of you." Kitty waves off the stupid man, grab's Lindsey by her good hand, and hauls her away. Frank can go stew in his own bullshit for his entire life, Kitty doesn't care, as long as she doesn't have to take a bullshit bath with him.

Or with Lindsey.

"I can handle myself," Lindsey says all stilted and still angry.

"I know you can. That's not the problem. Frank is a turd and wants to keep pissing us off, fine whatever, leave the asshole alone. I don't know why you keep rising to the bait though."

"Because he can't just go around doing shit and saying shit like that!" Lindsey shouts, and fuck it.

"No, you're just mad. People are assholes all the time, but the only time you care about it is when you're in a rageaholic mood. Free-floating rage. Happens all the time to all sorts of people. You're just unloading on this dude now 'cause he's convenient."

"He's an asshole!" Lindsey yells. "He pisses you off too!"

"I don't care about him! I care about you!" Kitty yells back. She takes a deep breath. "This isn't fucking good for you." Lindsey gets quiet, looks a little shocked. Okay, usually maybe Kitty's got Lindsey's back on her normal pro-prank, anti-asshole alarms and gets riled up when Lindsey does, but that doesn't mean she can't call bullshit when she smells it. And holler it loud. They stare each other down for a minute.

"Jeez, sorry," Lindsey mutters. Kitty sighs and rolls her eyes. Lindsey runs off to the keg someone's set up.

"I cannot fucking deal with Frank. Or Lindsey, when she's insane like this. Jesus, why am I the fucking nuthouse wrangler?" she complains to Jimmy when he's brought back his friends Jim Beam and Johnnie Walker that Kitty's forced him to share.

Jimmy laughs and laughs. "Dude, pot calling the kettle!"


"I'm serious! You get all unhinged dealing with all the assholes who crawl out of their burrows this time of year. Or you lose your marbles dealing with the assholishness that crawls out of certain Lindsey-shaped people at the same time." Which, that might make a little sense. Kitty'll just deny to to Jimmy though. "All I'm saying: pot and kettle."

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you are! Who punched whose arm just 'cause he kept speeding up the beat last night and threw you off?"

"Steve should get punched in the arm as his daily medicine."

"I'm the real nuthouse wrangler. I'm in a band with three crazy women."

Kitty takes a swig and does not punch any of Jimmy's appendages.


Kitty's noodling around looking for Ray Toro, because he said something about getting some fresh air, and although the rest of his band is either five times smellier or five times more obnoxious than anyone in her band, Ray Toro is the man with the plan who can track down nachos within a fifty-foot radius and is therefore valuable. Lindsey and Jimmy were tagging along but got distracted by a "wicked cool daddy-long-legs eating a bug, awesome" so Kitty got ahead of them. She gets turned around in the vaguely rural place out back that some hick arenas have and winds up by the dry retention ponds where Lindsey is still gaping at the spider.

"Quit picking on the poor bug, it never did anything to you." Kitty nudges her off (Lindsey's still craning her neck back) and they wander the long way back to the stadium. They're elbowing each other and giggling, and Kitty's enjoying the hot sunshine, when they hear crying.

Someone's crying nearby.

They look at each other and attempt to go in the opposite direction to try to leave him alone, the poor guy crying somewhere in the dry pits of the retention ponds, but they can't go back and there's only one way forward, so they hurry along, and something snaps loudly in a pit, making Lindsey jump, and so they stumble into one and fall nearly on top of -


He's got tear-tracks on his dirty face, twisted in a grimace and nose buried in the sleeve of his hoodie. He opens his eyes wide, bloodshot whites clear to see.

They stare at each other for a moment. He's gritty-muddy and totally red-faced from lying down in a ditch crying in the heat. Kitty absolutely has no idea what to say.

"Shut the fuck up, bitches," Frank chokes out, voice thick. It might be a sob. No, no, the next sound he makes is a sob, muffled in his sleeve, his other hand brought up to cover his eyes now. It's real crying, the uncontrollable, awful, heaving crying you do when you're really fucking upset. Lindsey grabs Kitty's shoulders and pulls her out of the pit. The climb up and out and Kitty doesn't look back.


They're chilling with Gerard and smoking (he has a lot of fresh cigarettes, fuck), and listening to him babble about crustaceans and sea invertebrate. He is not all there but grinning with it, happy. Lindsey's letting him hang off her arm when he's fallen over walking one time too many. Lindsey and Kitty throw looks at each other and just let him continue on.

Kitty can see Frank's shape approaching from a distance. They'd meandered to some out-of-the-way place on the fairgrounds and are about halfway back to the buses now. It sort of seemed the best course, with the way Gerard was going.

Frank slows down when he seems to recognize them, then stops to wait until they reach him. He looks at them warily and gruffly asks, "Is he alright?"

Gerard is humming to himself and leaning way back on Lindsey's shoulder, pointing Orion out to them. Kitty's fairly sure Orion can't be seen this time of year. "Uh, I guess," she says. "He's had a lot of cigarettes."

Gerard notices Frank and is suddenly delighted. "Frankie! Frankie, did I tell you I dreamed I died?" He sounds excited.

Frank's face tightens up and looks stern. "No, you didn't," he says roughly, and, very stiffly, gets his arm around Gerard and transfers his weight from Lindsey. Frank doesn't touch her at all. Lindsey's eyes are searching for his, but Frank doesn't look up from the ground.

Gerard asks, very concerned, "You sure?"

"Yes," Frank grunts.

"I'm alive, I'm alive, oh man," Gerard babbles, hands around Frank's waist as they totter off.

Kitty mulls it as they return to their own bus and feels a few pebbles of understanding fall into place in her brain.

Lindsey goes, "Huh" and chews her lip. "I still want to kick his ass."

"I never doubted that," Kitty says dryly.


Kitty has never tasted anything so sweet and refreshing as the cold Coke she just pulled out of the vending machine. Seriously, Pepsi will never measure up. Lindsey loops her arm through Kitty's and occasionally takes sips of the Coke and tells her she's tasted better turpentine than that shit, Pepsi is so much better. Kitty tells her at least she knows Lindsey's brain has been permanently scrambled by paint fumes since she even likes Pepsi, and so on and so forth they go, throwing out the now-empty bottle and heading to their blessedly cool room.

They round the corner.

And find Frank.

They find Frank looking dour and pulling apart some huge hotel-emblemed riser contraption that looks vaguely important and vaguely too expensive to be left haphazardly lying around. Some employee is gonna get yelled at. It's kind of meanspirited, but Lindsey would probably join in with the prank. If she, you know, didn't hate Frank's guts by now.

Frank looks up, eyes dark with makeup again and the bruise almost faded. His expression is surprised and wide-eyed for a second before souring. Lindsey pinches her mouth shut and pulls in tight with their linked arms, motioning to go around him.

Frank can't even let them pass by in peace.

"I'd ask if you knew how to pull apart this shit, but then I remembered you couldn't." He sighs exasperatedly. "Female musicians."

Kitty feels an epic eye-roll to rival all eye-rolls coming on, but Lindsey blazes up at the challenge. "If a tough-ass motherfucker like you can't figure it out, then I guess we're really no help to you." She copies his sigh. "Oh, short male musicians."

He smirks. "Hey, at least I've got part of the equipment to figure shit out," and oh god, Kitty has been cursed to deal with people suffering from stupid-ass-itis all summer, she knows it.

Frank spews some more shit that she can't even believe, and Lindsey pulls her arm away from Kitty's to go off and practically grow ten feet in rage, spitting shit right back at him. But Frank just keeps going, and oh god, does he ever shut the fuck up?

"Do you ever shut the fuck up?" Kitty exclaims. Her nails bite into her scalp. She might have pulled out more hair due to these two assholes than about anything else this summer.

"I will when you will, bitch," he sneers, and makes an obscene gesture with his hands, his too-short shirt with a stupid band logo riding up, showing off stupidly pale skin and stupidly pretty tattoos, and for fuck's sake, Kitty is so over his lameass shit.

"Fine. Shut up," she says. She marches over to him, grabs his arm, and presses a hard kiss against his lips, more of a lip smush than anything. She bites his lip and continues. Frank stills, but then bites her and tries to shove his tongue down her throat. She slaps his shoulder and they settle into relatively tense, hard making out, tongues pushing against each other roughly, like a fight. Kitty rips her mouth away and steps back. She wipes her face. Frank looks good all kiss-smudged and still fiery-angry.

She sticks her tongue out at him. He flips her off and growls in the back of his throat but doesn't say anything.

"I fucking hate you," Lindsey says. Kitty whips back to look at her but she's still glaring flinty-eyed at Frank.

Frank snaps, "Same to you, bitch."

Lindsey juts out her jaw and her hands ball up. Frank's expression flattens, as if to say how cute. And then he spits. Right at her face.

He misses, of course. The wad goes over her left shoulder. Lindsey looks like she really is going to murder him, and Kitty will totally enjoy sitting back watching it and not calling security. Lindsey slams into Frank and he just takes it, pushes back with his body, chin up and defiant. Their mouths crash together and it looks less like kissing than another wrestling match, teeth coming down and shoving each other's arms. They kiss, hard and demanding and not nice, for a long few minutes. For a few more minutes than Kitty expects. A light dings on in her head.

She scoffs at Lindsey, "You get bitchy when you're horny!" Kitty is incredulous. Lindsey pulls a face at her then grabs Frank again, shoves her tongue in his mouth. He grabs her ass and squeezes in retaliation. Lindsey makes an indignant sound and pushes him back. He thumps into the harsh cinderblock wall and Lindsey forces her leg between his, behind his knee, and sets his thigh right up under her. He grabs her hips and sneers up at Lindsey as she sneers down at him.

Kitty is still pissed off and turned on at the same time. Apparently that's not going away anytime soon either. "You're both so fucking stupid it's a miracle either of you are still alive."

"What the fuck," Lindsey says before sucking on Frank's lip ring. He makes a low noise and rocks up, and then Kitty really does roll her eyes and shove up next to them. Lindsey licks her neck. Kitty grabs Frank around the waist and makes out with Lindsey for a while before switching to Frank. It's still such nasty kissing, Kitty's mouth feels pulpy and abused and she's not satisfied with it. She pulls back.

"Okay, no public sex."

"Who says we're having sex?" Frank says, obviously trying to snarl, but looking a bit too cross-eyed to take him seriously.

"I am. Fucking move." Kitty pulls them through the back entrance to the hotel right beside them and they go up to her and Lindsey's room. Frank is quiet and still pissed-looking but goes willingly, clutching Lindsey's shoulder and sometimes flexing tensely.

He's still looking mutinous as they lock the door. "Okay, so here's the thing," Lindsey says, pulling off her shirt. "I don't like you, but I'm going to fuck you through the bed."

"And why the fuck would I let you do that?" Frank asks, and he's all flushed but hard-eyed too, and this is just going to keep passing around like a bouncy ball in stairwell, isn't it, Kitty asks herself. She sighs and upends her toiletries bag, sorting it out for condoms.

"Dude, sex. Plus, you seriously need to get the stupid fucked out of you, or whatever the fuck your problem is." Frank curls his lip up at them.

"Hey, you don't like it, fucking leave," Kitty says. She's found the condoms. And she's on the same page as Lindsey right now, pretty much.

He almost looks like he'll do it, half-turned to the door.

"Dude," Kitty starts. Then she sighs. There's no need for...whatever, whatever, this is just stupid sex all around. She waves the link of condoms comically. "Just fucking do it."

He snorts and mocks in a high voice, "Yes, I'm a fucking Nike commercial," and spits at them again, yuck. It lands on Kitty's arm. Lindsey groans and pulls him down on the bed, and he jams his face into her belly, licking, forehead bumping her bra, hands so hard on her back Kitty sees the skin go white around his fingers.

"Ugh, eep." Lindsey squirms, and he goes, "Yeah, you want it bad." They push-pull each other onto the bed, and Lindsey kneels above his hips, grinding down, and they both groan ridiculously, all drawn-out. He bucks and she slaps him down, scratching him. "Shut the fuck up, you asshole."

"You shut up, cuntface," and oh god, this boy is such a fuckup Kitty can't even believe it. He's still hot and mussed and inked to hell though, so she's still wet and tingly. Kitty takes off her clothes and rubs her clit a little as a warm-up before throwing the scroll of condoms on the nightstand.

She shoves Lindsey over and for a while Lindsey and her just make out, and it's good, and Kitty'll need to add this to her wank repertoire. Frank sits back and watches, getting undressed, holding himself and breathing hard. He kicks Kitty's ankles to get their attention and falls on top of her, kissing her mouth and rough hands roaming all over her tits, and yeah, yeah, Frank gets a green light on that part too.

Lindsey unwraps a condom. Kitty and Frank look up at the sound, and Lindsey's gotten naked at some point. Frank squeezes Kitty too hard so she bites at his lip ring. He says, "Ow!" and pinches her from the inside of her belly button. Kitty slaps him away and Lindsey grabs his arm to haul him on his back. "Fingernails!" he complains and rubs the red pinpricked skin aganst the sheets.

"Fuck off," Lindsey says and rolls the condom over him.

"That's it," Frank says, annoying and smarmy. "Ride my fucking cock." Lindsey yells in frustration and Kitty slaps his chest again.

"Seriously, you don't fucking shut up without help, do you?" Kitty sticks her thumb in his mouth and he teethes around it. Kitty watches Lindsey shimmy and rock down, moaning a little in pleasure, and Frank sucks her finger, brings up his hand to cover hers on his face.

His hips jumps up and Lindsey squeaks and sinks down, pinning him down and rocking on him. The moans work their way up through Frank chest and gather in his throat, barely escaping his full mouth though Kitty that see them rolling through him. She crouches and spreads her legs to touch herself, precarious, perched on her heels and her hand on Frank's face. Kitty clenches around her fingers and forgets about it when Lindsey holds Frank down with both her hands to arch over him. Lindsey's back bends once, twice, and her mouth drops open, and that's when Frank starts to fight her. He thrusts up and Lindsey's arms slide off to the side. She pushes down and bites on Frank's chest, and Kitty's having trouble panting and balancing and thumbing her clit at the same time. Frank stutters a groan and thrusts up out of pace, and Lindsey topples to one side almost violently.

Kitty loses her balance, falls off the bed, and cracks her head against the nightstand. She yells, pretty much. And then she just says, "Ow," and holds her head in her hands and stays on the floor.

"What the fuck," she hears from Frank and then, "Okay, yeah, alright-" and some rustling, the door opening and closing. Lindsey helps her onto the bed and turns her face in her hands.

Frank comes back in with a bucket of ice. He get a washcloth out of the bathroom, dumps some ice in it and Lindsey plops the thing on her face. Frank's forehead is a wealth of creases and he rubs his palms together in a nervous tic. Neither of the damned fools apologizes for knocking her silly.

After a few minutes, "You're both making this up to me, motherfuckers," Kitty says, jabbing her foot into Lindsey's thigh. "With lots of tongue." Frank nearly looks abashed and the lines of Lindsey's face smooth out.

"Alright," Lindsey says roughly. "Alright, alright," more acquiescing than appeasing. Lindsey slides her fingers over Kitty's sore forehead (Kitty bets she has red marks, fuck, wonderful) for a while. She notices Frank rocking back and forth on his heels and shifting uneasily on the end of the bed. He's got his boxers on and his dick is almost poking through the fly. He's sure to have shocked someone in the hallway, and Kitty giggles.

"How the fuck are you still hard?" Lindsey asks when she looks up, and Frank just snorts and rubs over his chest twitchily.

"I'm having a threesome with two hot chicks, motherfuckers, of course I've still got it up." That makes Kitty laugh.

"You're still an asshole," Lindsey says, and knees forward on the bed. Frank aahs and rocks up into Lindsey's grip when she pulls him out of his boxers. Kitty watches him get off and splatter on his own chest before Lindsey nags him to stick his fingers up her cunt and return the favor. Lindsey clutches his neck and whimpers her orgasm into his hair, and Frank look concentrated and serious, blushing and sticky all over, muscles tensed up under his tattoos and forearm flexing between Lindsey's thighs.

"Okay," Kitty agrees when they're slumped on top of each other. "Yeah, forget the ice, I'm up next for the porno-fucking." Lindsey laughs and Frank shoots her a line about mimicing Deep Throat if she wants, and yes, okay, that's the first real smile she's seen on his face.

She tells him to fuck off.


Kitty's flung apart her thighs, heels propped on the boxspring of the bed. She sighs deeply while Lindsey spreads her and licks between her fingers. Kitty lets the warm buzz fill her up and reaches for Frank again.

"You know, you're not bad at this," she tells him when they come up for air after more slow, syrupy making out. He's rubbing a nipple, and Kitty arches up, gasping, Lindsey's tongue still in her.

"I know," Lindsey answers, coming up, grinning, mouth shiny. Frank and Kitty laugh at the same time, Frank hissing like a snake and burying his face in Kitty's shoulder. He sucks on her neck and Lindsey brings up a wet finger to rub her until she comes, clutching the back of Frank's neck and the bedclothes.

"Oh, god," Kitty says after a while. Lindsey's licked her fingers clean and lying down with both of then sideways on the bed. She's gotten cigarettes and occasionally reaches down to rub between her legs. Kitty grins.

"You want me to fuck you?" Frank asks Kitty. "I'm good to go." He's relaxed, face softened even further. Kitty brings up a hand to run over his mouth and brush against his stubble.

"Nah." Kitty feels pretty forgiving, herself. She rubs her thumbnail around his lip ring; he grunts and licks at her. "I think Lindsey wants you to." Lindsey snorts, "Hell yes" and then Kitty continues, "You can eat me out later."

"Okay," Frank says thickly, and really, Kitty could almost call him pleasant and accommodating right now. Then again, lots of guys are like that when sex is happening. She's still surprised Frank is though.

Kitty spreads her legs and smokes while she watches Frank fuck Lindsey over the dresser. It starts out slow and lazy until Lindsey pushes him, and Frank pushes back, random nonsense falling out of both their mouths 'till they're heaving and groaning with it. He hefts Lindsey up to help her arch, damn, he's a strong little fucker, and Kitty sees her eyes go wide and then squeeze shut as she goes on her tiptoes and whimpers through the new angle. Lindsey's out of breath when she shudders, and Frank comes almost silently, hips stuttering, jamming himself against her back and breathing hoarsely. Kitty watches them slowly pull apart from each other and slide back to the bed. Lindsey tugs Kitty's hair, so Kitty cracks the joint in Lindsey's pinkie finger, and Lindsey squeals and giggles. Frank just looks at them and pants, inexplicable behind glassy eyes.


Kitty's got an ankle up over his back and she fucking mewls, it's so hot, a fucking onslaught, he's tongue-fucking her so deeply. He's been making low, gruff noises the whole time but then they change, getting longer. He pulls back, wipes his wet face on Kitty's thighs, then dives back in, and Kitty thumps her heels on his back at how it feels.

He pulls back to lick over her clit, over and over again, and Kitty can't fucking stand it, she arches and almost yells. She peels open her eyes to look at his fucking mouth and-

-and Frank is crying.

It's just water running out of his eyes. She'd almost think she's imagining it, his pale, wet face except there it is, eyes leaking and lashes wet. He stops to wipe his face (tears) off on her belly this time before his mouth fuses to her pussy again. He's pretty quiet about it, the crying noises indistinguishable from the moaning when she humps up against his face, and he's already been hitching with that too-fucked-out breathing that hides the sobs.

Kitty's goes, "What? What? -ut is it?" but can't stop yelping when he sucks on her clit. She thrusts up and tips his head back with her hands, and that way Lindsey can see him when she looks up from playing with herself, spread back in a chair.

Lindsey's face crinkles up, and she gets up, moves behind Frank to rub his back. It only make him louder. He sobs, for real, separate from the sex noises. Lindsey pulls him back. He tries to shrug out of her hold, and Kitty can't help it, her hips jump in his hands.

"No no, shut up, I'm fine," he grounds out, voice sopping-wet and deep with arousal all at once. "Lemme finish, I can do it, I can fix it. I can, I can," and he goes down again.

Kitty lets him, because she feels fucking feverish and almost coming anyways, has been rubbing herself with her fingers the scant seconds he was away. Frank wipes his wet cheeks on the inside of her knee and rubs with his tongue until Kitty's grabbing his head and humping his face, seeing stars and going to come in another minute. He makes strained, desperate noises and keeps going, but she can't, she can't even -he's sounding too upset, and she won't get off on that.

She pushes him away. "Suck," she tells him and sticks her fingers in his face. He's sn-sn-sniffing and heaving, sobbing on every in-breath and pale-faced when he takes in her fingers, eyes squeezing shut and sucking gratefully. Kitty concentrates on that and thumbs her own clit until he's calmed down some. Her hips roll down in his hands until he's finally breathing heavily for the right reasons and can't take his eyes off her. Lindsey squeezes Frank around the waist, he gasps and shudders, then pushes both of Kitty's hands away.

"Okay, okay, okay," he says and licks her again, long delicious swathes, before getting his tongue back inside her and fucking her intently, nose mashed against her pubic bone.

Kitty's panting hard and clutching Frank's hair. He moans deeply and sincerely, eyes closed and savoring, and she bucks up, pushing against the wet, squirming tongue pushing into her. Her toes curl at the fucking sensation. She cries out and pulls his hair when he draws out, but then there're fingers and she rubs herself against the flat of his tongue on her clit, and there're more than just her juices wetting her cunt. Frank's shoulders shake and Lindsey keeps touching him, and he half-cries, half-groans something out as they both keep up the pressure. She can feel his lips and tongue tremble, and he tries to pull away to breathe, and then Kitty pushes him back against her cunt and thrusts up, coming on his tongue and fingers and his whole fucking face.

Kitty finishes moaning her fucking head off and reaches down to touch herself, swollen, her thighs streaked with wet smears.

Frank leans back and he's shaking. A few more tears roll down his cheeks, and he aggressively wipes them away, hands trembling. Lindsey comes back with a whole body towel in her hands and gives it to him. Frank wipes off his face and lets it fall over his arms and puddle in his lap. He looks very young.

"Are you okay?" Lindsey asks. "You need to talk about it?"

"I'm okay!" Frank says harshly. He hitch-sobs a little more and his face tenses. He relents, "I'll be okay. I will be." He's not convincing. Kitty doesn't say anything.

Lindsey eyes them both evenly as they wait for Frank to calm down, rubbing his knee. Frank gulps a little more and his eyes stop running after a little bit; he keeps angrily swiping his face with the towel. Then Lindsey goes to take a shower.

"You can stay a while. Sleep, we can fuck some more," Kitty says.

"Nah," Frank says, and she's expecting it. "I gotta find -I gotta do some shit." He gets up and goes to the bathroom too. It's unlocked. He comes out a couple minutes later soaking wet, towels himself off with the one he used before, and gets dressed. He rocks back on his heels. He looks completely different than she's seen him before: a little worried, a lot unsure, all big vulnerable eyes and a fucking plump, used mouth.

She can deal with that.

She lifts her chin at him. "Okay?"

He nods more jerkily. "Okay. Yeah, okay." He tosses his arm in a lame wave and the door clicks quietly behind him.


They fuck, sometimes. When he can get away from his fucking mess of a band, he'll fuck Lindsey up against a wall, backstage, broom closet, wherever, both of them pushing hard and swearing, biting, tiring each other out. Then they'll walk around with bruises on their necks and making more sarcastic, but cheerful remarks for a while. Sometimes Lindsey gets mouthy and brattier between those sessions so her and Lindsey'll fuck, because they can, and because oh my god, why the fuck is Lindsey so annoying when she's horny.

"Because I can be." Lindsey grins all wetly.

"Shut up. I have a dildo and I'll use it."

"Really?" Lindsey asks all interested, and hoo boy, that's fun too.

Sometimes Kitty finds Frank and stuffs him into a bathroom, pushes him to his knees and pushes up her skirt, listening to their moans ring off the tile. She'll only jack him off after, but he doesn't ask for more. His eyes always get so wide and surprised. A couple other times they all get a room and fuck each other stupid, and that's -that's really good, fucking decadent, actually. Kitty can barely keep her eyes open after those nights, aching up to her eyeballs from the hard, punishing sex and the meandering, endless rounds of it; Lindsey gets loopy and happy on endorphins, and Frank, he just gets wrung out, mindless with it, can't even light a cigarette with his hands shaking.

He cries again, once, rolls Lindsey over and starts cursing and bawling into her shoulder. Kitty crawls over and kneads her fingers over his scalp until he's moaning into it, until his breath stops hitching. "Fuck me again, yeah?" Lindsey says. "Yeah, yeah," Frank agrees, full of relief, and sweat replaces the tears on his face.

And no one seems to have noticed their hot little affair.

That's the really fucking surprising part. They're not even trying that hard to hide it (more to avoid obnoxious teasing than anything. Mostly. Kitty thinks that's mostly it.)

"You seem like you're in a better mood," Steve says airily. "Did Frank fall off a cliff to make you so happy?"

"Shut up." She keeps her headphone on one ear and listens to Steve gossip in the other.

"Haven't seen him in a while, actually. He's stopped coming around. Miss him at D&D."

"He's at shows."

"Yeah, but. Not after. Dunno where he goes." And fuck, Kitty doesn't know either, and she didn't even notice. They don't fuck each other every day though.

The last time she sees Frank, his shirt's off, and he's wiping off his face and hands and belly at the sink, face all flushed, before she closes the bathroom door behind her.

The last time she sort-of sees him he's got his back to her, trailing after Ray to the buses, their gear getting packed up for some flight to Asia.

"Well I hope he's fucking over whatever his problem is." Lindsey says, unconcerned, mouth full of enchiladas.

"Yeah, maybe," Kitty says, but she seriously doubts that's happened at all. She chews her straw for a while, niggles of worry in her brain. "We're good though, yeah?"

Lindsey's face cracks into a smile. "Yeah. Yeah yeah. Peachy keen. 's long as you don't start pissing in my watercolors too."

"Oh darn, I'll have to scratch that off my to-do list." They munch through the food and hunch over themselves, and she fingers Lindsey under the table and wipes her hand on her jeans when they get called to soundcheck.

"Yeah, we'll be there, coming right up," Lindsey calls, full and free, and they haul their asses over to see the rest of their goofy, butt-ugly, happy band.
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