A Fire In The Fire Place~Frank/Gerard
Title: A Fire In The Fire Place
Author : slashxyouxup
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: PG13
Summary: This was suppose to be a quiet long weekend away with Mikey and his new boyfriend, Ray, who they’d yet to meet. But now, Gerard decides, it is about how much of an ass his own boyfriend is.
Warnings: language.
Disclaimer: Writers lie - just like your parents.
Written for the ‘Fire in the fire place’ prompt from my schmoop_bingo card.
A Fire In The Fire Place
First, it was the gas prices. Gerard hates being over charged for gas more than anything else he hates being over charged for. Frank just wanted to fill up the car at the first station and get on with the drive, but no. Their gas was a whole 50 cents more per litre than Gerard was comfortable paying for, so they drove on. And on. Three stations later and Gerard still wasn’t satisfied, so much so that they were now over half way to their destination, fast running out of gas and out of stations.
They end up at some little dingy mostly wooden gas pump, where the hick with a limp and a bad case of acne charges them double what the first station would have. Frank is not happy and Gerard won’t admit that he was wrong, as usual. When they clamber back in to the car Frank shoots Gerard a dirty look and then glares out of the passenger side window as Gerard pulls back on to the deserted road and sighs. This is going to be a very long drive.
Then it’s the heater. If left on for too long, the heater in their ridiculously out of date car begins to feel like it’s suffocating you, releasing fumes from the engine through the vents and in to the car occupant’s lungs. Probably not very legal, Frank thinks as he switches it off, but it’s all either of them can afford to keep running. Gerard huffs and flips the heaters back on. “I need them to unfog the window,” he explains. “I can barely see out of them.”
“That’s because of the smoke from your shitty heaters,” Frank shoots back as he shuts them off again. Gerard throws him a glare and digs his fingers in to the steering wheel.
“Fine,” he growls.
“Fine,” Frank mimics.
And finally, the radio. “Christ, Frank. Will you turn that shit off?” Gerard says when he finally snaps after twenty or so miles of listening to country crap.
“No,” Frank snaps back. “It’s the only station we can pick up and I’m bored.”
“But I have to concentrate,” Gerard tries, but Frank snorts and shakes his head.
“At least you have something to do.”
“Well how about we pull over and you drive?” Gerard suggests.
Frank kicks at the car mat. “No.” This was suppose to be a quiet long weekend away with Mikey and his new boyfriend, Ray, who they’d yet to meet. Mikey was telling them the other week about this cabin Ray’s parents had up in the woods near a huge lake that the sun would set behind. He thought it would be the perfect setting to introduce his brother to the guy he’d been dating for the past few months, and had a thing for since he first moved to New York. That’s what this weekend was suppose to be about, grilling Mikey’s new fella’. But now, Gerard decides, it is about how much of an ass his own boyfriend is. “Mother fucker,” he hears Frank grumble from behind his crossed arms. Yes, definitely an ass.
When they finally, finally, arrive, Frank’s the first to jump out of the car. Gerard scoffs. Don’t help with the bags then, he thinks as he throws open his own door and slams it closed. He pulls their cases from the trunk and drags them across the gravel and to the front porch, where Frank is still stood as he peers in through the glass in the front door. “I think we’re the first here,” he says, but Gerard doesn’t respond because he is still totally ignoring Frank The Ass. Instead he simply lifts the stone cherub by the door and collects the key from beneath it.
Frank doesn’t thank Gerard as he unlocks the door and pushes it open, and he doesn’t help with the bags. Ass. Instead he stomps in to the large living room of the old log cabin and throws himself down on the beat up sofa, rubbing his hands together and sticking them back in his pockets because it’s colder in here than it is out there. Gerard kicks Frank’s case over and slams the front door. “I’m calling Mikey,” he says shortly, pulling out his phone and clicking through the speed dial.
The reception out here sucks and he’s barely got two bars of signal. The off tone ringing crackles on and off until Mikey finally answers. “-bro?” comes the broken greeting.
“Mikey, where are you?” Gerard asks, and he ends up repeating it at least three times before Mikey finally hears it.
“-line sucks. I’m - home. You?”
“We’re at the cabin. We’re at the cabin,” he shouts.
“-til next week. The tenth!”
“What? Mikey, I can’t hear you…what?” Gerard presses his cell harder against his ear, like that’s going to help with the connection.
“The vacation isn’t until next weekend!”
“What!” Gerard shouts in to the phone, but the line fizzes and then goes dead. He flips his phone closed and resists the urge to throw it against the wall.
From the couch, Frank raises an eyebrow. “Problem?” Gerard’s gut drops. He is so dead. So, so dead. Just bite the bullet, he tells himself. Bite the bullet and spit it out.
“I got the date wrong,” he says quickly. Frank’s eyes widen. “It’s next weekend.”
Frank throws his arms up. “Perfect, just fucking perfect. What a way to top off a shitty fucking day.” He stands up and kicks at the floor. “Lets just go home.”
“You want to drive all the way back now?”
Frank scowls. “Well, what’s the point in staying here?”
“I just drove for hours, Frank. I’m not doing the trip again straight away. Not without sleep and not with you in that mood. We’ll go in the morning.”
Frank storms past Gerard, heading towards what he hopes is a bedroom. “Fine,” he spits. “Fucking, fine.”
-*-*-
Gerard collects some logs from a pile of wood he saw next to the house when they came in. This results in two splinters and fraying the denim on the knees of his new jeans. If Frank were talking to him, he’d definitely be making fun of Gerard right about now. It’s only when he’s actually at the fire place that he realises he’s never started a proper fire in his whole life. He chucks two logs in to the brass cage and then just…stares at it.
He ends up sat on the couch, glaring at the logs like the heat from his look alone will set them alight. With no such luck, he sinks back in to the dusty cushions and pulls a knitted blanket around his shoulders. It smells like mould, but he’s too cold to care.
However long later, Gerard thinks he’s hearing things when there’s the sound of a door clicking open and closed again, so he doesn’t notice when Frank ends up stood by the side of the couch, hands shoved in his pockets and looking some what apologetic. Gerard flinches with surprise when he finally does notice.
“Couldn’t get it started, huh?” Frank says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Gerard says nothing. This could be a trap. Frank walks to the mantle and picks up a cardboard box, pulling out three white chalky looking cubes. “You have to use fire lighters,” he says, fishing his lighter out of his pocket. He lights one and chucks it on to the logs, doing the same with the other two before he lifts the metal fire guard and places it across the opening. He sits himself down next to Gerard. “It should get going in a few minutes,” he finishes quietly, rubbing his pale hands together and blowing on his numb fingers.
Gerard rolls his eyes and opens up his blanket, putting his arm around Frank’s shoulders and pulling him closer. Frank smiles and Gerard can’t help but do the same. “You’re an ass,” he states softly.
Frank snorts. “Yeah? Says Mr. Organised over here? Next Christmas I’m buying you a calendar.” He looks up and rubs their cold noses together, grinning when Gerard cups the side of his face. He pulls Frank in to a lazy sort of kiss, stroking his cheekbones whilst Frank curls his fingers under Gerard’s hoodie and t-shirt.
The fire crackles in the background, but they don’t notice the cold anymore.
Author : slashxyouxup
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: PG13
Summary: This was suppose to be a quiet long weekend away with Mikey and his new boyfriend, Ray, who they’d yet to meet. But now, Gerard decides, it is about how much of an ass his own boyfriend is.
Warnings: language.
Disclaimer: Writers lie - just like your parents.
Written for the ‘Fire in the fire place’ prompt from my schmoop_bingo card.
A Fire In The Fire Place
First, it was the gas prices. Gerard hates being over charged for gas more than anything else he hates being over charged for. Frank just wanted to fill up the car at the first station and get on with the drive, but no. Their gas was a whole 50 cents more per litre than Gerard was comfortable paying for, so they drove on. And on. Three stations later and Gerard still wasn’t satisfied, so much so that they were now over half way to their destination, fast running out of gas and out of stations.
They end up at some little dingy mostly wooden gas pump, where the hick with a limp and a bad case of acne charges them double what the first station would have. Frank is not happy and Gerard won’t admit that he was wrong, as usual. When they clamber back in to the car Frank shoots Gerard a dirty look and then glares out of the passenger side window as Gerard pulls back on to the deserted road and sighs. This is going to be a very long drive.
Then it’s the heater. If left on for too long, the heater in their ridiculously out of date car begins to feel like it’s suffocating you, releasing fumes from the engine through the vents and in to the car occupant’s lungs. Probably not very legal, Frank thinks as he switches it off, but it’s all either of them can afford to keep running. Gerard huffs and flips the heaters back on. “I need them to unfog the window,” he explains. “I can barely see out of them.”
“That’s because of the smoke from your shitty heaters,” Frank shoots back as he shuts them off again. Gerard throws him a glare and digs his fingers in to the steering wheel.
“Fine,” he growls.
“Fine,” Frank mimics.
And finally, the radio. “Christ, Frank. Will you turn that shit off?” Gerard says when he finally snaps after twenty or so miles of listening to country crap.
“No,” Frank snaps back. “It’s the only station we can pick up and I’m bored.”
“But I have to concentrate,” Gerard tries, but Frank snorts and shakes his head.
“At least you have something to do.”
“Well how about we pull over and you drive?” Gerard suggests.
Frank kicks at the car mat. “No.” This was suppose to be a quiet long weekend away with Mikey and his new boyfriend, Ray, who they’d yet to meet. Mikey was telling them the other week about this cabin Ray’s parents had up in the woods near a huge lake that the sun would set behind. He thought it would be the perfect setting to introduce his brother to the guy he’d been dating for the past few months, and had a thing for since he first moved to New York. That’s what this weekend was suppose to be about, grilling Mikey’s new fella’. But now, Gerard decides, it is about how much of an ass his own boyfriend is. “Mother fucker,” he hears Frank grumble from behind his crossed arms. Yes, definitely an ass.
When they finally, finally, arrive, Frank’s the first to jump out of the car. Gerard scoffs. Don’t help with the bags then, he thinks as he throws open his own door and slams it closed. He pulls their cases from the trunk and drags them across the gravel and to the front porch, where Frank is still stood as he peers in through the glass in the front door. “I think we’re the first here,” he says, but Gerard doesn’t respond because he is still totally ignoring Frank The Ass. Instead he simply lifts the stone cherub by the door and collects the key from beneath it.
Frank doesn’t thank Gerard as he unlocks the door and pushes it open, and he doesn’t help with the bags. Ass. Instead he stomps in to the large living room of the old log cabin and throws himself down on the beat up sofa, rubbing his hands together and sticking them back in his pockets because it’s colder in here than it is out there. Gerard kicks Frank’s case over and slams the front door. “I’m calling Mikey,” he says shortly, pulling out his phone and clicking through the speed dial.
The reception out here sucks and he’s barely got two bars of signal. The off tone ringing crackles on and off until Mikey finally answers. “-bro?” comes the broken greeting.
“Mikey, where are you?” Gerard asks, and he ends up repeating it at least three times before Mikey finally hears it.
“-line sucks. I’m - home. You?”
“We’re at the cabin. We’re at the cabin,” he shouts.
“-til next week. The tenth!”
“What? Mikey, I can’t hear you…what?” Gerard presses his cell harder against his ear, like that’s going to help with the connection.
“The vacation isn’t until next weekend!”
“What!” Gerard shouts in to the phone, but the line fizzes and then goes dead. He flips his phone closed and resists the urge to throw it against the wall.
From the couch, Frank raises an eyebrow. “Problem?” Gerard’s gut drops. He is so dead. So, so dead. Just bite the bullet, he tells himself. Bite the bullet and spit it out.
“I got the date wrong,” he says quickly. Frank’s eyes widen. “It’s next weekend.”
Frank throws his arms up. “Perfect, just fucking perfect. What a way to top off a shitty fucking day.” He stands up and kicks at the floor. “Lets just go home.”
“You want to drive all the way back now?”
Frank scowls. “Well, what’s the point in staying here?”
“I just drove for hours, Frank. I’m not doing the trip again straight away. Not without sleep and not with you in that mood. We’ll go in the morning.”
Frank storms past Gerard, heading towards what he hopes is a bedroom. “Fine,” he spits. “Fucking, fine.”
-*-*-
Gerard collects some logs from a pile of wood he saw next to the house when they came in. This results in two splinters and fraying the denim on the knees of his new jeans. If Frank were talking to him, he’d definitely be making fun of Gerard right about now. It’s only when he’s actually at the fire place that he realises he’s never started a proper fire in his whole life. He chucks two logs in to the brass cage and then just…stares at it.
He ends up sat on the couch, glaring at the logs like the heat from his look alone will set them alight. With no such luck, he sinks back in to the dusty cushions and pulls a knitted blanket around his shoulders. It smells like mould, but he’s too cold to care.
However long later, Gerard thinks he’s hearing things when there’s the sound of a door clicking open and closed again, so he doesn’t notice when Frank ends up stood by the side of the couch, hands shoved in his pockets and looking some what apologetic. Gerard flinches with surprise when he finally does notice.
“Couldn’t get it started, huh?” Frank says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Gerard says nothing. This could be a trap. Frank walks to the mantle and picks up a cardboard box, pulling out three white chalky looking cubes. “You have to use fire lighters,” he says, fishing his lighter out of his pocket. He lights one and chucks it on to the logs, doing the same with the other two before he lifts the metal fire guard and places it across the opening. He sits himself down next to Gerard. “It should get going in a few minutes,” he finishes quietly, rubbing his pale hands together and blowing on his numb fingers.
Gerard rolls his eyes and opens up his blanket, putting his arm around Frank’s shoulders and pulling him closer. Frank smiles and Gerard can’t help but do the same. “You’re an ass,” he states softly.
Frank snorts. “Yeah? Says Mr. Organised over here? Next Christmas I’m buying you a calendar.” He looks up and rubs their cold noses together, grinning when Gerard cups the side of his face. He pulls Frank in to a lazy sort of kiss, stroking his cheekbones whilst Frank curls his fingers under Gerard’s hoodie and t-shirt.
The fire crackles in the background, but they don’t notice the cold anymore.