My God, I Love Flannels [Incomplete]
Title: My God, I Love Flannels
Fandom: Ferard
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Warning: Fluff, flannels and slight cursing (which accounts for this being PG-13)
Summary: Frankie wants to shopping. Gee doesn't. Crazyness ensue.
Author's Note: John Brown was a self-proclaimed radical abolitionist previous to the Civil War. He, and many of the people around him said that he had the ability to stare at an animal (ie. cat or dog) and they would slink off and out of the room. He's a loveable character, really. This is a WIP and eventually will be finished.
The Flannel Republic
Gerard's View
He was doing one of those dances again. One of those damn dances that look so adorable and endearing and ugh! I can’t get enough of them…But I would never admit that. Like, ever. Never.
“GGGGGGGGGEEEEEEEEE!!!”
Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. And did I mention, don’t turn around?! Damn it, I turned around…
“Yes, my dearest Frankie, the love of my life?”
Please let him note the sarcasm, please for the love of a-none-exist-god/ Optimist Prime-vampire-unicorn Overlord, let him know I’m being sarcastic. His eyes wide and doe-like. A giant smile plastered to his baby face.
“Oh Gee!” He runs…No, more like charges. “Oh Gee!”
Now it’s my turn for wide, shocked eyes…and everything. I bet it’s less attractive on me…His hands on my waist now. Seriously, like, what the fuck?!
“’Cuz you love me, will you take me shopping? Oh please, please, please!”
Incredulous stares. Really? Really?
“Dude, that’s like my ultimate Hell…”
“I’ll pay you in fellatio!”
More stares. Maybe if I stare at him long enough he’ll dissipate, of slink off, I could be like John Brown! My inner history geek cheers, has a super awesome party in which all have been invited, except Frankie...Okay, Frankie can cum, I mean, come. ANYHOW, either would be good, really.
“Gerard!”
His whiny-ness shakes me out of my reverie.
“What?!”
His eyes get glassy, near tearful. No! I’m just going to look away; his tears won’t sway me this time…I swear. I turn my body and his tear fall; I can hear it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. I didn’t mean to make him cry! Or snap! I can’t help it…Rolling my eyes, I turn my body to face him again and I wipe his tears away. Sighing I say:
“Frankie, c’mon, I’ll take you…Just, ugh…stop crying, yeah?”
He perks up and does another dance. Seriously? I stare dumb-founded. He changes his moods like he's bipolar!
“Okay! First, we’ll go to Fruits ‘N Balls then, then we’ll go to American Mango Dance Wear then Flannel Republic and then…”
I tune him out after that, completely regretting my choice. Couldn’t I have pushed him on Bob, or Mikes? Time to find my keys…
Where The Hell Are My Car Keys?!
Frank's View
Where is he?! I told him my list! There’s at least ten stores we need to hit, today!
“GEE!!! Where are you?”
A muffled “Cool your jets, I’m findin’ my keys!” is what I get back.
Damn you Gee, why can’t you find your keys faster?! Oh, wait…I hid them, that’s why. Oops. I sneak over to my bunk and lift the mattress slightly. There they are! But I can’t let Gerard see them, he might not take me shopping! And it would be a sad day. A very sad day.
While walking back to the kitchenette, an idea forms in my mind. I’ll be the hero and say I found his keys. An awesome Cheshire Cat smile spreads across my face.
“GE-RAWR-D!!!” I call out.
I hear a sigh and groveling. Soon enough, Gerard appears from the back. A look of pure aggravation was in place of his usual content features.
“What do you want Frankie?”
Tilting my head to the side, I ask:
“Gee-bear, are you mad at me?”
His eyebrow lifts. How the hell does he do that?! I can’t ever do that….Damn him.
“What? No, Frankie. I’m just…frustrated at the situation.”
I smile and run up to him, swinging my arms up and around his neck when I get there.
“Okay! I ugh…” I lick my lips and smile wide. “I know where your keys are…”
“Yeah?” he leans in closer. “And where would they be Frank?”
“I ugh…Under my mattress?”
“And, if I may ask, why would they be under there?”
Shit, so much for heroism. Wait, I can still save the day...and my ass….
“Um…Mikey put…them there…”
Gerard scrunches up his face in a too adorable way. Why does he have to look soooooo cute when puzzled?!
“Why would…MIK-”
I cover his mouth with my hands as to stop him from calling out Mikey, and thus my reveal my lie.
“No need to ask Mikey why Gee. I’m sure he had a swell reason to hide your keys.” Nice save Iero, nice save.
“Ihksgf eekn.”
I stare at Gerard, not understanding a word he just said.
“What Gee? Can you speak clearer?”
“Iqf adjgfoi Ihksgf eekn.”
“Ohhhh, okay. Let’s go to the car then!”
Gerard rolls his eyes as I relieve his mouth of my hands and run to his car.
The Drive Is Just Too Long
Gerard's View
“Get out of the driver’s seat.”
“No!”
“Frank, get out of the driver’s seat, now.”
“Noooo, I don’t wanna.”
“Frank now!”
“But…I…okay…”
Rolling my eyes, I step out of the away so Frank could move. Instead, he crawls to the passenger side. I walk over and plop down into my seat. I really, really don’t want to be here…
“Gee! C’mon, get your butt up and moving! I want to go now!”
I huff, put the key in the ignition, and turn it. While pulling out the driveway, Frankie bounces like a Jack Rabbit in his seat.
“Okay, okay, okay, ‘member, we’re going to Fruits ‘N’ Balls first.”
“I know Frankie.”
“Then American Mango Dance Wear.”
“I know Frankie.”
“THEN we HAVE to go to Flannel Republic. It’s a MUST!”
“I know Frankie.”
He pauses for a moment. Ah, silence, how I love you so. And thank you, you non-exists God/ Optimist Prime-vampire-unicorn-Overlord.
“Gee…” Oh no…“Do you remember the rest of the list?”
“I know Frankie.” Wait.
“YOU WEREN’T LISTENING!!! Gerard, c’mon!”
“I’m sorry Frankie. I…was.”
“No you weren’t.” he whimpers.
Oh no, not again, no tears, please. PLEASE no tears. Why does he have to cry? I reach towards the radio and turn it on to drown him out.
I sigh blissfully as the chords of the song surround me. Oh my sweet, sweet salvation.
“Oh! Turn it up Gee! I LOVE Suicidal Tendencies!!!”
My God, is he bipolar.
I sigh and roll my eyes. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. I turn up the volume on the radio not because Frank wanted me to; I do it to drown out his singing. Unfortunately, as the volume goes up, so does his vocals. Imagine that.
I begin to drum my fingers along with the drums. Hmph, ‘Institutionalized’, that’s what’s going to happen to me if this goes any further…