The Best Boyfriend Ever - Bandom (MCR), PG, Frank/Ray.
Title: The Best Boyfriend Ever
Fandom: Bandom (MCR)
Rating: PG
Length: About 1500 words.
Characters/Pairings: Frank/Ray.
Disclaimer: Like so many of my odd fantasies, this is not real in the slightest.
Summary: Frank gets sick again. Ray takes care of him.
Notes: I wrote this mid-February when a cold kept me in bed (and from fixing my broken BRBB). I did not have a Ray, sadly.
(Also on AO3 and DW. Now with a podfic by
argentumlupine!)
The Best Boyfriend Ever
Frank wakes up in bed alone. That in itself isn't weird: Ray's been over at Gerard and Lindsey's practically every day, playing with his guitar and GarageBand. (And Bandit, too. He's come home with paper crowns stuck in his hair and glitter on his jeans and even a broken lightsaber in his guitar case once.)
But he takes a step out of bed, and his entire body aches. Sadly, that isn't weird, either.
Frank bangs his head on the door a few times. And then he rests his forehead against it because it's cool and solid and feels like fucking heaven.
"Great," he mutters.
-
It's not a big deal. Frank doesn't have anywhere to be, and he won't get in Ray's way. He just needs to hibernate for a while.
Of course, hibernating would be easier if he was at his house in Jersey instead of Ray's in California. For one, he has more stocked up than Tylenol and chamomile tea. (He's lucky he has that much; if his throat hadn't been scratchy after they'd made it back from Australia, he'd have Ray's Advil and nothing else.) For another, his house is one-story and Ray's is two, so he wouldn't have to drag himself downstairs wincing every step. And shit, he wouldn't have to worry about walking back up either.
"Tylenol upstairs," he mutters as he ganks it from the guest bathroom. Too bad he can't hoard a teapot in Ray's bedside table.
He's just opened the cabinet in the kitchen when the front door opens and closes quietly. "Frank?" Ray says quietly.
"Uh," Frank says, then winces and slams the cabinet shut. Ray doesn't need to know. He's got songs to write. "In here?"
"That a question?"
Ray rounds the corner, and of course he looks fucking perfect. He always does. Ray's thighs alone prove the existence of some higher power. And clothes fit the man like...like...like some metaphor his cold-addled brain doesn't have the power to come up with. There's a faint sheen of sweat on his skin, like there always is when he gets back from Gerard's, and if Frank wasn't slightly hunched in on himself in an attempt to stay upright, he'd probably drop to his knees right the fuck now. It's tempting anyway.
He grins, and Frank grins back. But as Ray gives Frank a once-over, his smile fades to something more wide-eyed. "Frank."
Frank tries to straighten up and goes for the cabinet with his cereal. He just woke up. It's plausible. "What?"
"Dude. Again?"
He slides forward and tries to put a hand on Frank's forehead. And Frank's feeling crappy enough that he almost lets him. But instead, he slides back against the counter and says, "What again?"
Ray shakes his head. "Get in bed. I'll make your tea."
"What? Why would I want tea?"
"So you don't get pneumonia?"
Frank laughs, and if it turns into a bit of a cough, well. His throat's dry. It happens. "I wish drinking tea stopped pneumonia. Or even bronchitis." Man, that'd be great. The amount of sick days that would've saved him in high school.
Ray's eyes get even wider. "You have bronchitis?"
"No!" Frank sags against the counter. It takes more energy he has to fight Ray off. "Look, it's just a cold or something. I'll sleep it off for a few days. It's fine."
Ray's face softens even more, and he comes in for a hug. Maybe he's been around Gerard too much. But the pressure feels kind of good, even if his skin hurts, so he goes with it.
And then Ray slings him over his shoulder.
"Fuck!" Frank cries, flailing a little. For effect only, of course. Ray knows how much he loves being thrown around, even if Ray's shoulder digging into his stomach hurts like a mother. "Is this really a good time?"
Ray's a little winded, but he's laughing. "We're not going far."
And Ray drops him on the bed in the guest room - on the first floor, even, right next to the bathroom - so maybe he knows what he's doing. Especially when Frank coughs a little.
Ray crouches by the bed and gives him a sympathetic smile. "Get some sleep, okay?"
Frank grabs for his hand - Ray's immune system can take it- and Ray lets him grab it but doesn't climb into bed. "Stay."
"Until you're asleep," Ray says, squeezing a little.
Frank smiles, and maybe he won't admit it to the guys ever, but he kind of nuzzles Ray's hand while he falls asleep. He always gets sappy when he's sick.
-
Ray's not in front of Frank's face when he wakes up. Colored patterns are. Fuck, things really have to be bad if he's hallucinating.
But he rubs his eyes and draws back, and the patterns separate, and...huh. That's the most tissue boxes he's ever seen out of a grocery store. Hell, warehouses probably have less. His nose is running, so he sits up and grabs one from the top of the stack. There's even a big garbage can sitting by his side, so he doesn't have to live in snotty tissues forever. Swell.
Maybe he should go looking for Ray, but his head's still throbbing a little, and he's still tired, so once he can kind of breathe out of his nose again, he lets his eyelids drop.
-
Frank's hugging the box of tissues when he wakes up. It's digging into his cheek, and when he pulls back, there's a patch of drool on the cardboard. Gross.
But when he sits up, the fort of tissues is gone, and a steaming cup of tea sits in its place. It probably smells amazing, but Frank's too stuffed up to know.
As he reaches for the cup, the door creaks, and Ray pokes his head in. "Drink it all."
Frank grabs the cup and lifts it in salute. "Yes, Mom."
Ray looks sheepish. "Gerard has some new lyrics. Can I...?"
Frank waves a hand. "Hibernation only takes one, man. Go get your rock on."
Ray tiptoes in, almost like he's afraid of crossing some line of lasers or something. Of course, James Bond wouldn't have that dorky look on his face. Frank giggles a little, then sneezes and starts coughing, and Ray freezes.
"Did I--"
"What?" Frank rolls his eyes and sips at the tea. It's warm, but not burn-his-tongue warm. Pretty awesome.
Ray shakes his head and pets some of the sweaty hair off Frank's forehead. Frank cringes. "I'm so nasty right now, dude."
"Because you're never nasty." Ray kisses his forehead and drags his blanket up. Apparently, he dug out a quilt from somewhere. It had a musty smell, like all good sick blankets did. "I'll be back later."
"Mmm."
"Mmm," Ray agrees.
-
Frank comes to again at the sound of orcs.
He cracks an eye long enough to see a laptop on the dresser opposite the bed. When he shifts, an arm hugs him, and he burrows closer.
"What happened to rock?" he mutters into Ray's side.
"Too distracted." Something crinkles right in front of his face, and Frank opens his eyes a little further. "Chips?"
Frank swallows tentatively. His throat's better - getting all the tea down earlier was murder - but it's still too much, probably. "Nah."
Ray rustles around. "Throat thing?"
"Lozenge." And huh, Ray got the good kind. Awesome. He takes one and pops it in and lets the fake cherry taste dissolve on his tongue. It's always kind of fun how his mouth goes numb.
"Anyone ever tell you you're the best boyfriend ever?" he says, his tongue flopping oddly in his mouth.
"They have now."
Frank turns to the TV and watches the Fellowship take on a cave troll.
-
They get through the rest of the movie and part of The Two Towers before they call it a night. They switch to Romero when they wake up again the next day, and by the time they've made it through a couple movies, Frank's feeling somewhat human again. Not in the kind of shape where he could run away from zombies, but good enough to take a piss and make food in the kitchen without Ray insisting on carrying him piggyback everywhere. Even good things should be taken in moderation.
By the time he makes it back with his salad - now that his taste buds are working better again, tomatoes are amazing - Ray's blowing his nose with one of the tissues.
"You're sick?" Frank can't stop the glee in his voice.
"No way. I'm just..."
"...turning into Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?" And his eyes are gunked up, too. Frank laughs. "You never get sick."
Ray sighs, but he lets Frank bounce on the bed next to him and hug his chest.
"My turn," Frank promises, kissing his temple. "I get to be the best boyfriend ever."
Ray snorts, but when Frank starts rubbing his neck, he goes boneless.
Yeah. Frank'll be the fucking king.
Fandom: Bandom (MCR)
Rating: PG
Length: About 1500 words.
Characters/Pairings: Frank/Ray.
Disclaimer: Like so many of my odd fantasies, this is not real in the slightest.
Summary: Frank gets sick again. Ray takes care of him.
Notes: I wrote this mid-February when a cold kept me in bed (and from fixing my broken BRBB). I did not have a Ray, sadly.
(Also on AO3 and DW. Now with a podfic by
argentumlupine!)
The Best Boyfriend Ever
Frank wakes up in bed alone. That in itself isn't weird: Ray's been over at Gerard and Lindsey's practically every day, playing with his guitar and GarageBand. (And Bandit, too. He's come home with paper crowns stuck in his hair and glitter on his jeans and even a broken lightsaber in his guitar case once.)
But he takes a step out of bed, and his entire body aches. Sadly, that isn't weird, either.
Frank bangs his head on the door a few times. And then he rests his forehead against it because it's cool and solid and feels like fucking heaven.
"Great," he mutters.
-
It's not a big deal. Frank doesn't have anywhere to be, and he won't get in Ray's way. He just needs to hibernate for a while.
Of course, hibernating would be easier if he was at his house in Jersey instead of Ray's in California. For one, he has more stocked up than Tylenol and chamomile tea. (He's lucky he has that much; if his throat hadn't been scratchy after they'd made it back from Australia, he'd have Ray's Advil and nothing else.) For another, his house is one-story and Ray's is two, so he wouldn't have to drag himself downstairs wincing every step. And shit, he wouldn't have to worry about walking back up either.
"Tylenol upstairs," he mutters as he ganks it from the guest bathroom. Too bad he can't hoard a teapot in Ray's bedside table.
He's just opened the cabinet in the kitchen when the front door opens and closes quietly. "Frank?" Ray says quietly.
"Uh," Frank says, then winces and slams the cabinet shut. Ray doesn't need to know. He's got songs to write. "In here?"
"That a question?"
Ray rounds the corner, and of course he looks fucking perfect. He always does. Ray's thighs alone prove the existence of some higher power. And clothes fit the man like...like...like some metaphor his cold-addled brain doesn't have the power to come up with. There's a faint sheen of sweat on his skin, like there always is when he gets back from Gerard's, and if Frank wasn't slightly hunched in on himself in an attempt to stay upright, he'd probably drop to his knees right the fuck now. It's tempting anyway.
He grins, and Frank grins back. But as Ray gives Frank a once-over, his smile fades to something more wide-eyed. "Frank."
Frank tries to straighten up and goes for the cabinet with his cereal. He just woke up. It's plausible. "What?"
"Dude. Again?"
He slides forward and tries to put a hand on Frank's forehead. And Frank's feeling crappy enough that he almost lets him. But instead, he slides back against the counter and says, "What again?"
Ray shakes his head. "Get in bed. I'll make your tea."
"What? Why would I want tea?"
"So you don't get pneumonia?"
Frank laughs, and if it turns into a bit of a cough, well. His throat's dry. It happens. "I wish drinking tea stopped pneumonia. Or even bronchitis." Man, that'd be great. The amount of sick days that would've saved him in high school.
Ray's eyes get even wider. "You have bronchitis?"
"No!" Frank sags against the counter. It takes more energy he has to fight Ray off. "Look, it's just a cold or something. I'll sleep it off for a few days. It's fine."
Ray's face softens even more, and he comes in for a hug. Maybe he's been around Gerard too much. But the pressure feels kind of good, even if his skin hurts, so he goes with it.
And then Ray slings him over his shoulder.
"Fuck!" Frank cries, flailing a little. For effect only, of course. Ray knows how much he loves being thrown around, even if Ray's shoulder digging into his stomach hurts like a mother. "Is this really a good time?"
Ray's a little winded, but he's laughing. "We're not going far."
And Ray drops him on the bed in the guest room - on the first floor, even, right next to the bathroom - so maybe he knows what he's doing. Especially when Frank coughs a little.
Ray crouches by the bed and gives him a sympathetic smile. "Get some sleep, okay?"
Frank grabs for his hand - Ray's immune system can take it- and Ray lets him grab it but doesn't climb into bed. "Stay."
"Until you're asleep," Ray says, squeezing a little.
Frank smiles, and maybe he won't admit it to the guys ever, but he kind of nuzzles Ray's hand while he falls asleep. He always gets sappy when he's sick.
-
Ray's not in front of Frank's face when he wakes up. Colored patterns are. Fuck, things really have to be bad if he's hallucinating.
But he rubs his eyes and draws back, and the patterns separate, and...huh. That's the most tissue boxes he's ever seen out of a grocery store. Hell, warehouses probably have less. His nose is running, so he sits up and grabs one from the top of the stack. There's even a big garbage can sitting by his side, so he doesn't have to live in snotty tissues forever. Swell.
Maybe he should go looking for Ray, but his head's still throbbing a little, and he's still tired, so once he can kind of breathe out of his nose again, he lets his eyelids drop.
-
Frank's hugging the box of tissues when he wakes up. It's digging into his cheek, and when he pulls back, there's a patch of drool on the cardboard. Gross.
But when he sits up, the fort of tissues is gone, and a steaming cup of tea sits in its place. It probably smells amazing, but Frank's too stuffed up to know.
As he reaches for the cup, the door creaks, and Ray pokes his head in. "Drink it all."
Frank grabs the cup and lifts it in salute. "Yes, Mom."
Ray looks sheepish. "Gerard has some new lyrics. Can I...?"
Frank waves a hand. "Hibernation only takes one, man. Go get your rock on."
Ray tiptoes in, almost like he's afraid of crossing some line of lasers or something. Of course, James Bond wouldn't have that dorky look on his face. Frank giggles a little, then sneezes and starts coughing, and Ray freezes.
"Did I--"
"What?" Frank rolls his eyes and sips at the tea. It's warm, but not burn-his-tongue warm. Pretty awesome.
Ray shakes his head and pets some of the sweaty hair off Frank's forehead. Frank cringes. "I'm so nasty right now, dude."
"Because you're never nasty." Ray kisses his forehead and drags his blanket up. Apparently, he dug out a quilt from somewhere. It had a musty smell, like all good sick blankets did. "I'll be back later."
"Mmm."
"Mmm," Ray agrees.
-
Frank comes to again at the sound of orcs.
He cracks an eye long enough to see a laptop on the dresser opposite the bed. When he shifts, an arm hugs him, and he burrows closer.
"What happened to rock?" he mutters into Ray's side.
"Too distracted." Something crinkles right in front of his face, and Frank opens his eyes a little further. "Chips?"
Frank swallows tentatively. His throat's better - getting all the tea down earlier was murder - but it's still too much, probably. "Nah."
Ray rustles around. "Throat thing?"
"Lozenge." And huh, Ray got the good kind. Awesome. He takes one and pops it in and lets the fake cherry taste dissolve on his tongue. It's always kind of fun how his mouth goes numb.
"Anyone ever tell you you're the best boyfriend ever?" he says, his tongue flopping oddly in his mouth.
"They have now."
Frank turns to the TV and watches the Fellowship take on a cave troll.
-
They get through the rest of the movie and part of The Two Towers before they call it a night. They switch to Romero when they wake up again the next day, and by the time they've made it through a couple movies, Frank's feeling somewhat human again. Not in the kind of shape where he could run away from zombies, but good enough to take a piss and make food in the kitchen without Ray insisting on carrying him piggyback everywhere. Even good things should be taken in moderation.
By the time he makes it back with his salad - now that his taste buds are working better again, tomatoes are amazing - Ray's blowing his nose with one of the tissues.
"You're sick?" Frank can't stop the glee in his voice.
"No way. I'm just..."
"...turning into Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?" And his eyes are gunked up, too. Frank laughs. "You never get sick."
Ray sighs, but he lets Frank bounce on the bed next to him and hug his chest.
"My turn," Frank promises, kissing his temple. "I get to be the best boyfriend ever."
Ray snorts, but when Frank starts rubbing his neck, he goes boneless.
Yeah. Frank'll be the fucking king.