Fic: Crystalline Pathways and Strangers Unaware [1/1]
Title: Crystalline Pathways and Strangers Unaware [1/1]
Author:
_dragoonqueen
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
POV: Second, Gerard
Summary: A walk on a winter's day.
Disclaimer: fakety-fake-fake. it'd be pretty shweet though.
You tug on the scarf your mother forced around your neck before you left the house. It’s a little scratchy against your pale neck but snow has just started to fall again; you silently thank her.
Your feet crunch through the blanket of dazzling, untouched snow, its tiny white crystals filling and covering all imperfections that lay underneath. Almost a crystalline tar, you muse. You wish all roads, pathways and such like, were made this way; there would be less grey in the world.
Lost in a world with no cars - only ice skates, ice fountains and scarves all around (although perhaps less scratchy ones, you decide, after tugging the offending article once more), you don’t notice someone coming towards you. Apparently they didn’t realise either as you are both currently on your backs, staring up at the bleak sky, with the wind knocked out of you both.
“Fuck!” is all you hear, followed by a giggle. It’s a guy, you manage to determine, although that giggle wasn’t exactly macho.
You turn your head to see just who this stranger is and regret it immediately. It’s hard enough as it is to breathe through your thick scarf - especially after falling over - but this man has made it near impossible.
His breath is swirling around above him, making him seem almost ethereal. He turns his head towards you and he’s so close you can feel the puffs of his breath chilling the damp of your cheeks. As soon as his eyes meet yours, it ceases. Has he stopped breathing?
“Are you okay?” you ask, worried.
“Hmm? Sure, uh, yeah…you just…you have snow in your hair.”
The stranger is beautiful. His dark hair long enough to be visible despite the obscenely bright green hat he has on, curling under his jaw line, and flicking out in other places. But it’s the eyes, you think, that are truly beautiful. They are the colour of autumn, as if he has refused to let go of all warmth and life for winter, like the bare trees surrounding. You even feel a little warmer just looking into his eyes.
Once more lost in thought, it takes you a few seconds to realise he is running his fingers through your snow-wet hair. You are both on your knees, facing each other, your eyes slipping closed at the sensation of his gentle hands; his eyes slipping closed as he leans in. It is then that his cold, chapped lips brush yours. It’s chaste and sweet but now that you’ve had a taste you want more.
You lean forward; he meets you halfway. This kiss is deeper, lips warmer, breathing harder. Your hands have found their way underneath his coat, palms flat against his warm chest. He lets out a tiny whimper at that, his hands momentarily clenching in your hair. Apparently you like it as you’re sure it’s your deep moan getting lost between kisses.
And then it all stops. His hands have disentangled from your hair, he’s standing up now. For a moment you are at a loss but he’s holding a hand out for you to take, a warm smile gracing his features. He doesn’t let go of your hand once you’re standing. Instead he threads your fingers through his and begins walking along the gleaming, white path; you by his side.
“I’m Frank, by the way,” he says, smile still in place.
“Gerard,” you reply, your expression mirroring his. You gently squeeze his hand and you keep walking.
Author:
_dragoonqueen
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
POV: Second, Gerard
Summary: A walk on a winter's day.
Disclaimer: fakety-fake-fake. it'd be pretty shweet though.
You tug on the scarf your mother forced around your neck before you left the house. It’s a little scratchy against your pale neck but snow has just started to fall again; you silently thank her.
Your feet crunch through the blanket of dazzling, untouched snow, its tiny white crystals filling and covering all imperfections that lay underneath. Almost a crystalline tar, you muse. You wish all roads, pathways and such like, were made this way; there would be less grey in the world.
Lost in a world with no cars - only ice skates, ice fountains and scarves all around (although perhaps less scratchy ones, you decide, after tugging the offending article once more), you don’t notice someone coming towards you. Apparently they didn’t realise either as you are both currently on your backs, staring up at the bleak sky, with the wind knocked out of you both.
“Fuck!” is all you hear, followed by a giggle. It’s a guy, you manage to determine, although that giggle wasn’t exactly macho.
You turn your head to see just who this stranger is and regret it immediately. It’s hard enough as it is to breathe through your thick scarf - especially after falling over - but this man has made it near impossible.
His breath is swirling around above him, making him seem almost ethereal. He turns his head towards you and he’s so close you can feel the puffs of his breath chilling the damp of your cheeks. As soon as his eyes meet yours, it ceases. Has he stopped breathing?
“Are you okay?” you ask, worried.
“Hmm? Sure, uh, yeah…you just…you have snow in your hair.”
The stranger is beautiful. His dark hair long enough to be visible despite the obscenely bright green hat he has on, curling under his jaw line, and flicking out in other places. But it’s the eyes, you think, that are truly beautiful. They are the colour of autumn, as if he has refused to let go of all warmth and life for winter, like the bare trees surrounding. You even feel a little warmer just looking into his eyes.
Once more lost in thought, it takes you a few seconds to realise he is running his fingers through your snow-wet hair. You are both on your knees, facing each other, your eyes slipping closed at the sensation of his gentle hands; his eyes slipping closed as he leans in. It is then that his cold, chapped lips brush yours. It’s chaste and sweet but now that you’ve had a taste you want more.
You lean forward; he meets you halfway. This kiss is deeper, lips warmer, breathing harder. Your hands have found their way underneath his coat, palms flat against his warm chest. He lets out a tiny whimper at that, his hands momentarily clenching in your hair. Apparently you like it as you’re sure it’s your deep moan getting lost between kisses.
And then it all stops. His hands have disentangled from your hair, he’s standing up now. For a moment you are at a loss but he’s holding a hand out for you to take, a warm smile gracing his features. He doesn’t let go of your hand once you’re standing. Instead he threads your fingers through his and begins walking along the gleaming, white path; you by his side.
“I’m Frank, by the way,” he says, smile still in place.
“Gerard,” you reply, your expression mirroring his. You gently squeeze his hand and you keep walking.