[fanfiction] it's a Love Story
365 Gay Sharks
Day 320, Word Count: 2092
Theme: November; Write Until You Drop
This post is part of the 365 Gay Sharks project. If you would like to learn more about this project, click here to read more about it. :D
Fandom/Pairings: Bandom; Gerard/Frank
Rating: PG-13.
Pre-Notes: For prompt number 73 at yobrothatssick. I made up a fair number of words, muddled through some gender stuff, and bastardized a number of Disney movies. Apologies to your childhood, I guess.
Disclaimer: Don't you have better things to do than google yourself??
Summary: When Frank is well and truly sick, he dreams.
it's a Love Story (you'll be the prince, i'll be the princess)
When Frank is well and truly sick, he dreams.
It's always been that way, for as long as he can remember, and the dreams are usually the same thing. Frank's usually a dude-in-distress (he'd say he was a damsel, but nah) and someone (incredibly hot) usually saves him. Or, in other words, his mind picks a random-ass scene from a Disney movie he may or may not have seen recently (look, a bro can only watch so many soap operas) and dumps him right into it. Which, like. Isn't weird at all, except for how it's totally weird and the first couple of times it happens to Frank, he totally wigs out. Normal dudes do not have really vivid dreams about being a dude-princess (he's not, like, a regular princess. it's just that he looks like he maybe raided a fourteen-year-old girl's closet.) that gets saved by a very attractive girl-sometimes-dude.
Like, it's not even the sometimes getting saved by a dude thing. Frank is totally down with getting saved by a dude, he's not some homophobic asshole or whatever. Dudes can save dudes. It's cool, it's just that, like. The dreams are way real. Virtual, immersion reality or whatever kind of real. The kind of real where Frank wakes up in starts, gasping for air and sweating because of what he's dreamt. Anyway, the point is that Frank dreams when he's hellaciously sick and he's got death flu three times over and Frank's dying of what the fuck ever on tour.
It sucks.
He's used to being sick, but he's never been sick when surrounded by so many people. Usually it was, like. Him and his mom, sometimes not even his mom, so it's weird that Gerard keeps touching his hand to Frank's forehead and asking if he needs anything, is he okay, does he want tissues, yadda yadda and Frank knows Gerard is, like. Being nice or whatever, but Frank's okay except for the dreams. It's always the fucking dreams.
Frank closes his eyes and coughs, maybe a little wet.
"There isn't any room, go away."
Frank surveys the scene before him. Mikey and Gerard (wearing rabbit ears and a top hat, respectively) are seated at the great big table that's in front of Frank. Gerard's furiously sketching something, and Mikey is sipping at a mug that's probably filled with coffee. There's no one else sitting at it except for Ray, who appears to be asleep, so there's at least twelve empty seats.
"Bullshit," Frank says, "There's plenty of space."
Gerard looked up, "Frankie! Hey, do you want some of these funky little cucumber sandwich things?"
He offered a plate of those fancy-ass little sandwiches they showed in movies about English Royalty and shit. Frank shook his head, and Gerard looked disappointed but he brightened back up when Frank sat down next to him at the table.
"What'cha drawing?"
"A commission for the Queen," Gerard says, "of her in her favorite hat."
"Cool," Frank caught a glimpse of the drawing as Gerard turned the page, "It's really good."
"Thank-"
Waking up from a dream is a lot like emerging from the water you were drowning in. Frank gasps, not recognizing his surroundings for a moment before-
"Hey," Gerard's face appears in Frank's line of vision, "you okay?"
"I'm fine," Frank says.
It doesn't feel like a lie, which is odd.
Gerard starts babbling about soundcheck and other things and Frank tries to listen, he reall does, but at some point he drifts off again. Somehow, Frank doesn't think Gerard will mind that much. He's been pushing for Frank to get rest and drink shittons of fluids and just generally wishing Frank a speedy recovery. It's kind of cute, Frank thinks. Or would think, if he wasn't mostly filled with sick.
Frank is dancing with Gerard. It might be a waltz, fuck if Frank actually knows, but he's wearing an actual dress this time so okay. His subconscious has a sense of humor or something, but it's a pretty cool dress-all deconstructed black and red, fraying a little at the edges and patchworked to hell and back-so Frank's not upset or anything. He's mostly just sad that it's not Gerard in the dress, because Gerard would look way better in it. Well, Gerard looks good in anything so.
Somewhere off in the distance, a clock strikes midnight. Frank, seized with a sudden panic, pulls away from Gerard. Gerard frowns at him, opening his mouth to say something, but Frank cuts him off.
"I have to go," Frank explains, "It's midnight, I just."
Frank runs.
When Frank jolts awake, Ray is looking at him. He's concerned, Frank can tell by his hair as he tries to catch his breath. Ray waits, because he's that kind of person, and Frank coughs. He tries to to feel bad that Ray's hair gets even more concerned.
As Frank finishes coughing, Ray asks: "Are you okay?"
Frank nods, "I'm good."
"Do you need anything?"
"No," Frank shakes his head slowly, "you don't need to get me anything. I'm sick, not bedridden."
Ray shrugs, "Gerard said I'm supposed to keep you comfortable."
There are a lot of weird things about that sentence, but there's too much snot in Frank's head for him to even think about that shit. Groping around for the Kleenex box, Frank blows his nose miserably. Ray pats Frank's shoulder and disappears for a second, returning with a bottle of water that's orange. For a crazy moment, Frank thinks he's hallucinating, and then he realizes that Ray probably dumped Tang into it and shook it up. Ray holds out the bottle.
"You should drink this. Are you going to be okay playing tonight?"
"Hopefully," Frank says, taking the water bottle, "Thanks."
Ray says it wasn't a problem, and then he disappears to wherever. Frank knows he's still nearby, and doesn't worry as he drinks the over-sugared contents of the water bottle. At some point he falls asleep again.
"You know," Gerard says and he pulls on the oars, "I feel really bad that I don't know your name."
You do know my name, Frank tries to say, what kind of stupid are you?
Nothing comes out, though, and Gerard seems completely oblivious to the way that Frank is holding his hand to his throat and trying to see if anything's wrong. Oh for fuck's sake . . . he's a mermaid.
"Maybe I can guess!"
Gerard brightens at the thought, still ignoring how Frank is silently cradling his head in his hands. He's a mermaid.
"Let's see . . . um . . . Tulio?"
Frank looks up, a distinct expression of you're in the wrong animated movie and also no on his face. At least he hopes that's what it looks like. In practice it's probably a lot more WHAT overall. Gerard laughs, and Frank tries to glare.
"Okay, okay. No . . . Vinny? Han? Greedo?"
Frank hears Mikey's voice: "Frank. His name is Frank, Gerard."
"Oh," Gerard straightens, "Frank?"
"Frank?"
Gerard's face slowly comes into focus as Frank blinks himself awake. He can tell that his nose is clear-ish and that Gerard's hand is warm on his shoulder, which means that Gerard probably woke him up but there's no reason to wake him up unless-
"Hey, are you okay to perform? We're on in an hour."
Frank smiles, "I'll be okay, I think."
It's probably a little bit of a lie, but Frank's been through worse, and the most awful of the symptoms seem to have cleared up with all the sleep. As long as he doesn't have to do backflips or anything in this state, he should be okay for an hour. He will be okay for an hour. Gerard looks a little bit skeptical, but Frank has learned that if you just pretend like you believe something, pretty soon other people start believing it too. He can see exactly when Gerard relents.
"If you think so . . ."
"I do," Frank smiles some more, "It'll be fine, Gerard."
It is fine. Well, Frank drinks a lot of water and can't take his hoodie off because he's weirdly cold, but he makes it through the set okay and there's a lot of screaming, teenage girls that only scream louder when Frank leans against Gerard or falls to his knees or whatever. If anyone notices he's not quite as high-energy as usual besides his band, they don't seem to care that much.
He's exhausted when it's over, though, and he flops down in the back room as soon as it's over. Gerard is hovering, and Frank knows he's just worried, but he's fine. He even makes it back to the van by his own power (although Ray is standing closer than usual to Frank, like he's keeping Frank standing) and manages to cover himself in blankets without passing out. He does pass out pretty quickly, though.
"Are you okay?"
Frank wants to say no, because he's wearing a fur pelt and Gerard is wearing a fur pelt and it's unethical. Unfortunately, that's not how dreams work. Frank's life would be a lot easier if he had some control of his dreams, but he doesn't so instead he hugs Gerard.
"I really missed you."
"I missed you too."
Gerard touches their foreheads together and (because this is Frank's dream), he can hear Mikey lamenting the loss of his brother to Ray, who mostly seems to think that Frank and Gerard's lovey-dovey nuzzlefest is adorable. Frank can hear the sappy music queuing up and he's torn between wanting to beat his head against the nearest rock and wondering why he knows the words to "Can You Feel the Love Tonight?" at all, even subconsciously.
Also why his dream has seen fit to have him frolicking through the grasslands with Gerard a tumbling down a hill and landing with Gerard above him their eyes locked in overflowing passion-
The van hits a pothole, and Frank jerks awake. Gerard is mostly asleep on top of Frank, and Frank studies his face in the dim light of the car. In theory, he understands why the dreams keep happening, but . . .
Frank runs his fingers through Gerard's greasy, matted hair and tries to remember how to breathe, because it never stops occurring to him how pretty Gerard is. Not handsome, pretty. Gerard is pretty, and Frank is kind of totally in love with him to the point where Gerard has eclipsed every other princely figure in Frank's bizzaro fever dreams. Gerard wakes up, mumbling something before noticing that Frank is awake and still running his fingers through Gerard's hair like some kind of creeper.
"How are you feeling?"
It's barely above a whisper, but it sounds like it echoes in the silence of the van. Frank shrugs.
"Better."
"Good," Gerard shifts so they're looking at each other, "Hey, Frank?"
"Yeah?"
There a small silence that stretches thinner and thinner before it snaps.
"I was going to ask if I could kiss you," Gerard whispers, "but you'd probably get me sick."
Frank giggles, which morphs itself into a highly unattractive snort and is probably way too loud for the impressive silence of their van anyway. He can't bring himself to care. He also pinches himself, just to make sure this isn't some kind of terrible dream trick or whatever. Gerard wrinkles his nose, like Frank's laughing at him and he's not! Really.
"I don't think that's how it works, Gee. I am kind of covered in snot, though."
Gerard shrugs, "It could be worse."
Before Frank can ask what that means, Gerard bridges the gap between then and presses their lips together. It's not exactly anything new, Frank has kissed Gerard before, on stage. This is definitely different, though. This is sweet and soft and kind of like those kisses at the end of Disney movies, complete with sappy music going off in the background like some schmaltzy swoop to make the audience feel like they're getting kissed senseless too and-
Mikey's groggy voice cuts through the scene: "I'm not speaking to either of you for the rest of tour if you get jizz on anything. Seriously."
This kiss gets broken largely because Gerard starts shaking with silent laughter and then it's catching and Frank's shaking too because everything is so absurd and not like the movies and better all at once. Frank can't even care about the badly aimed, half-hearted empty water bottle that hits his thigh.
In fact, he barely notices, because Gerard's kissing him again and Frank's got the music cranked up too loud for it to register.
This entry originally posted here. Original entry currently has
comments. :D
Day 320, Word Count: 2092
Theme: November; Write Until You Drop
This post is part of the 365 Gay Sharks project. If you would like to learn more about this project, click here to read more about it. :D
Fandom/Pairings: Bandom; Gerard/Frank
Rating: PG-13.
Pre-Notes: For prompt number 73 at yobrothatssick. I made up a fair number of words, muddled through some gender stuff, and bastardized a number of Disney movies. Apologies to your childhood, I guess.
Disclaimer: Don't you have better things to do than google yourself??
Summary: When Frank is well and truly sick, he dreams.
it's a Love Story (you'll be the prince, i'll be the princess)
When Frank is well and truly sick, he dreams.
It's always been that way, for as long as he can remember, and the dreams are usually the same thing. Frank's usually a dude-in-distress (he'd say he was a damsel, but nah) and someone (incredibly hot) usually saves him. Or, in other words, his mind picks a random-ass scene from a Disney movie he may or may not have seen recently (look, a bro can only watch so many soap operas) and dumps him right into it. Which, like. Isn't weird at all, except for how it's totally weird and the first couple of times it happens to Frank, he totally wigs out. Normal dudes do not have really vivid dreams about being a dude-princess (he's not, like, a regular princess. it's just that he looks like he maybe raided a fourteen-year-old girl's closet.) that gets saved by a very attractive girl-sometimes-dude.
Like, it's not even the sometimes getting saved by a dude thing. Frank is totally down with getting saved by a dude, he's not some homophobic asshole or whatever. Dudes can save dudes. It's cool, it's just that, like. The dreams are way real. Virtual, immersion reality or whatever kind of real. The kind of real where Frank wakes up in starts, gasping for air and sweating because of what he's dreamt. Anyway, the point is that Frank dreams when he's hellaciously sick and he's got death flu three times over and Frank's dying of what the fuck ever on tour.
It sucks.
He's used to being sick, but he's never been sick when surrounded by so many people. Usually it was, like. Him and his mom, sometimes not even his mom, so it's weird that Gerard keeps touching his hand to Frank's forehead and asking if he needs anything, is he okay, does he want tissues, yadda yadda and Frank knows Gerard is, like. Being nice or whatever, but Frank's okay except for the dreams. It's always the fucking dreams.
Frank closes his eyes and coughs, maybe a little wet.
"There isn't any room, go away."
Frank surveys the scene before him. Mikey and Gerard (wearing rabbit ears and a top hat, respectively) are seated at the great big table that's in front of Frank. Gerard's furiously sketching something, and Mikey is sipping at a mug that's probably filled with coffee. There's no one else sitting at it except for Ray, who appears to be asleep, so there's at least twelve empty seats.
"Bullshit," Frank says, "There's plenty of space."
Gerard looked up, "Frankie! Hey, do you want some of these funky little cucumber sandwich things?"
He offered a plate of those fancy-ass little sandwiches they showed in movies about English Royalty and shit. Frank shook his head, and Gerard looked disappointed but he brightened back up when Frank sat down next to him at the table.
"What'cha drawing?"
"A commission for the Queen," Gerard says, "of her in her favorite hat."
"Cool," Frank caught a glimpse of the drawing as Gerard turned the page, "It's really good."
"Thank-"
Waking up from a dream is a lot like emerging from the water you were drowning in. Frank gasps, not recognizing his surroundings for a moment before-
"Hey," Gerard's face appears in Frank's line of vision, "you okay?"
"I'm fine," Frank says.
It doesn't feel like a lie, which is odd.
Gerard starts babbling about soundcheck and other things and Frank tries to listen, he reall does, but at some point he drifts off again. Somehow, Frank doesn't think Gerard will mind that much. He's been pushing for Frank to get rest and drink shittons of fluids and just generally wishing Frank a speedy recovery. It's kind of cute, Frank thinks. Or would think, if he wasn't mostly filled with sick.
Frank is dancing with Gerard. It might be a waltz, fuck if Frank actually knows, but he's wearing an actual dress this time so okay. His subconscious has a sense of humor or something, but it's a pretty cool dress-all deconstructed black and red, fraying a little at the edges and patchworked to hell and back-so Frank's not upset or anything. He's mostly just sad that it's not Gerard in the dress, because Gerard would look way better in it. Well, Gerard looks good in anything so.
Somewhere off in the distance, a clock strikes midnight. Frank, seized with a sudden panic, pulls away from Gerard. Gerard frowns at him, opening his mouth to say something, but Frank cuts him off.
"I have to go," Frank explains, "It's midnight, I just."
Frank runs.
When Frank jolts awake, Ray is looking at him. He's concerned, Frank can tell by his hair as he tries to catch his breath. Ray waits, because he's that kind of person, and Frank coughs. He tries to to feel bad that Ray's hair gets even more concerned.
As Frank finishes coughing, Ray asks: "Are you okay?"
Frank nods, "I'm good."
"Do you need anything?"
"No," Frank shakes his head slowly, "you don't need to get me anything. I'm sick, not bedridden."
Ray shrugs, "Gerard said I'm supposed to keep you comfortable."
There are a lot of weird things about that sentence, but there's too much snot in Frank's head for him to even think about that shit. Groping around for the Kleenex box, Frank blows his nose miserably. Ray pats Frank's shoulder and disappears for a second, returning with a bottle of water that's orange. For a crazy moment, Frank thinks he's hallucinating, and then he realizes that Ray probably dumped Tang into it and shook it up. Ray holds out the bottle.
"You should drink this. Are you going to be okay playing tonight?"
"Hopefully," Frank says, taking the water bottle, "Thanks."
Ray says it wasn't a problem, and then he disappears to wherever. Frank knows he's still nearby, and doesn't worry as he drinks the over-sugared contents of the water bottle. At some point he falls asleep again.
"You know," Gerard says and he pulls on the oars, "I feel really bad that I don't know your name."
You do know my name, Frank tries to say, what kind of stupid are you?
Nothing comes out, though, and Gerard seems completely oblivious to the way that Frank is holding his hand to his throat and trying to see if anything's wrong. Oh for fuck's sake . . . he's a mermaid.
"Maybe I can guess!"
Gerard brightens at the thought, still ignoring how Frank is silently cradling his head in his hands. He's a mermaid.
"Let's see . . . um . . . Tulio?"
Frank looks up, a distinct expression of you're in the wrong animated movie and also no on his face. At least he hopes that's what it looks like. In practice it's probably a lot more WHAT overall. Gerard laughs, and Frank tries to glare.
"Okay, okay. No . . . Vinny? Han? Greedo?"
Frank hears Mikey's voice: "Frank. His name is Frank, Gerard."
"Oh," Gerard straightens, "Frank?"
"Frank?"
Gerard's face slowly comes into focus as Frank blinks himself awake. He can tell that his nose is clear-ish and that Gerard's hand is warm on his shoulder, which means that Gerard probably woke him up but there's no reason to wake him up unless-
"Hey, are you okay to perform? We're on in an hour."
Frank smiles, "I'll be okay, I think."
It's probably a little bit of a lie, but Frank's been through worse, and the most awful of the symptoms seem to have cleared up with all the sleep. As long as he doesn't have to do backflips or anything in this state, he should be okay for an hour. He will be okay for an hour. Gerard looks a little bit skeptical, but Frank has learned that if you just pretend like you believe something, pretty soon other people start believing it too. He can see exactly when Gerard relents.
"If you think so . . ."
"I do," Frank smiles some more, "It'll be fine, Gerard."
It is fine. Well, Frank drinks a lot of water and can't take his hoodie off because he's weirdly cold, but he makes it through the set okay and there's a lot of screaming, teenage girls that only scream louder when Frank leans against Gerard or falls to his knees or whatever. If anyone notices he's not quite as high-energy as usual besides his band, they don't seem to care that much.
He's exhausted when it's over, though, and he flops down in the back room as soon as it's over. Gerard is hovering, and Frank knows he's just worried, but he's fine. He even makes it back to the van by his own power (although Ray is standing closer than usual to Frank, like he's keeping Frank standing) and manages to cover himself in blankets without passing out. He does pass out pretty quickly, though.
"Are you okay?"
Frank wants to say no, because he's wearing a fur pelt and Gerard is wearing a fur pelt and it's unethical. Unfortunately, that's not how dreams work. Frank's life would be a lot easier if he had some control of his dreams, but he doesn't so instead he hugs Gerard.
"I really missed you."
"I missed you too."
Gerard touches their foreheads together and (because this is Frank's dream), he can hear Mikey lamenting the loss of his brother to Ray, who mostly seems to think that Frank and Gerard's lovey-dovey nuzzlefest is adorable. Frank can hear the sappy music queuing up and he's torn between wanting to beat his head against the nearest rock and wondering why he knows the words to "Can You Feel the Love Tonight?" at all, even subconsciously.
Also why his dream has seen fit to have him frolicking through the grasslands with Gerard a tumbling down a hill and landing with Gerard above him their eyes locked in overflowing passion-
The van hits a pothole, and Frank jerks awake. Gerard is mostly asleep on top of Frank, and Frank studies his face in the dim light of the car. In theory, he understands why the dreams keep happening, but . . .
Frank runs his fingers through Gerard's greasy, matted hair and tries to remember how to breathe, because it never stops occurring to him how pretty Gerard is. Not handsome, pretty. Gerard is pretty, and Frank is kind of totally in love with him to the point where Gerard has eclipsed every other princely figure in Frank's bizzaro fever dreams. Gerard wakes up, mumbling something before noticing that Frank is awake and still running his fingers through Gerard's hair like some kind of creeper.
"How are you feeling?"
It's barely above a whisper, but it sounds like it echoes in the silence of the van. Frank shrugs.
"Better."
"Good," Gerard shifts so they're looking at each other, "Hey, Frank?"
"Yeah?"
There a small silence that stretches thinner and thinner before it snaps.
"I was going to ask if I could kiss you," Gerard whispers, "but you'd probably get me sick."
Frank giggles, which morphs itself into a highly unattractive snort and is probably way too loud for the impressive silence of their van anyway. He can't bring himself to care. He also pinches himself, just to make sure this isn't some kind of terrible dream trick or whatever. Gerard wrinkles his nose, like Frank's laughing at him and he's not! Really.
"I don't think that's how it works, Gee. I am kind of covered in snot, though."
Gerard shrugs, "It could be worse."
Before Frank can ask what that means, Gerard bridges the gap between then and presses their lips together. It's not exactly anything new, Frank has kissed Gerard before, on stage. This is definitely different, though. This is sweet and soft and kind of like those kisses at the end of Disney movies, complete with sappy music going off in the background like some schmaltzy swoop to make the audience feel like they're getting kissed senseless too and-
Mikey's groggy voice cuts through the scene: "I'm not speaking to either of you for the rest of tour if you get jizz on anything. Seriously."
This kiss gets broken largely because Gerard starts shaking with silent laughter and then it's catching and Frank's shaking too because everything is so absurd and not like the movies and better all at once. Frank can't even care about the badly aimed, half-hearted empty water bottle that hits his thigh.
In fact, he barely notices, because Gerard's kissing him again and Frank's got the music cranked up too loud for it to register.
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comments. :D