By the time Ray dug the first aid kit out of the merch box it had fallen to the bottom of, the other guys were all sacked out. Matt was sprawled across one bench seat, already snoring, and Mikey was curled up in the passenger seat with his legs splayed across the dash. In between them, Frank and Gerard were tangled up together.
Ray didn't think either of them even realized they were bleeding. Frank wasn't on stage, which meant Frank was asleep. And it was after a show (after 3pm on a day that ended in 'Y') so Gerard was pretty fucking wasted. Neither of them was feeling any pain, but Ray couldn't go to sleep with them bleeding all over the seat, though he knew they'd both just laugh when they woke up, pick at the scabs and crow about not even knowing they'd hurt themselves and, Dude, the show fucking killed even though neither of them would fucking remember it by then.
Ray crawled around to kneel in front of them, reaching for Gerard's arm, but Gerard mumbled, "Hey, Ray, Frankie's cut."
Well, score one for Gerard being aware something was wrong.
"Yeah," Ray muttered. "I know." He waved the first aid kit, and Gerard beamed at him, slouching back into the seat and dragging Frank with him, turning him so Ray could see the torn shoulder of his t-shirt, the ragged scratch beneath.
"Gimme a hand with him, okay?" Ray set the first aid kit down beside him, and Gerard's hands joined his, tugging Frank's sweat-soaked t-shirt up and off him. Frank frowned in his sleep, whining wordlessly, and Gerard petted him until he was quiet again. Ray told himself that the way Gerard's fingers moved across Frank's skin had everything to do with Gerard being drunk, and Frank being asleep and sick and hurt, and nothing to do with anything else. Ray could only deal with so many things at once.
The light from the streetlight they were parked not-quite-under wasn't good enough for this, but Ray didn't want to turn on the dome light and make it harder for Mikey to sleep. It would be Mikey's turn to drive in about five hours, and that experience would be death-defying enough without Mikey asleep at the wheel.
Gerard reached for the first aid kit when Ray picked it up again, but his hand shook as he did it, and Ray felt queasy at the thought of watching Gerard try to patch Frank up with those hands. "No, I got it. You hold him steady for me, right?"
"'Kay." Gerard shifted again, tipping Frank more securely across himself, and he laid his hands on either side of the ugly cut, fingers splayed across Frank's spine and shoulder blade. Ray squinted at the cut, dabbing at it with the stupid tiny lemon-scented alcohol swab. It didn't look like anything major had gotten ground into it, and he could check it again in the morning, when there was daylight and his own eyes weren't crossing. He only looked at the cut, not Gerard's fingers digging slightly into Frank's unbroken skin, Gerard's thumbs crossing over the shadowy shape of one of Frank's tattoos.
Ray squeezed antibiotic cream over the cut, and brushed Gerard's fingers aside with his own as he covered it up with a combination of Band-Aids. Gerard's fingers refused to stay brushed off, creeping back up over Ray's, over the borders of the bandages. When he was finished with Frank, Ray turned his hand, catching Gerard's left and pulling Gerard's arm toward himself across Frank's bare back.
Gerard didn't resist, and made a small startled sound when Ray twisted his hand to reveal the gash just below Gerard's elbow. Ray ripped open the next lemon-scented alcohol swab with his teeth, and used up the first one just cleaning the trail of blood off Gerard's forearm. Gerard laughed a little when Ray finally got as far as cleaning the cut, but when Frank shifted between them, still sprawled over Gerard, and Gerard went quiet, petting Frank with his free hand. Ray just gritted his teeth and got Gerard bandaged, and when Ray let go of Gerard's arm it stayed where he dropped it, sprawled across Frank. Gerard stayed quiet, breathing evenly.
Ray crumpled up all the wrappers and emptied packets and twisted around to stuff them into the ashtray in the dash; he was startled, when he twisted back to gather up the first aid kit, to realize Gerard's eyes were open, watching him. Gerard's hand reached out, twisted into his hair and tugged gently. "You're the best, Ray."
And Ray smiled, because the show had fucking killed, even if no one was going to remember it but him and a few dozen kids from Indiana, and Frank and Gerard were all patched up and safe for the night, and Matt and Mikey were already sleeping. "Yeah," he said, before he shook off Gerard's grip. "I know."
Email is always welcome at dsudis@yahoo.com
Or you can drop me a comment.