(no subject)
I actually started writing a version of this before I realized that oh, right, I already did that in another fandom. *facepalm* Plus, I'm pretty sure it's been done before with that whole "Everything is magically resolved when they stop being stupid and realize their love for one another!" thing. (Which, by the way, I fully support. I just didn't want to do that again, and that's where this was eventually headed. So.) wolfshirts? You need to stop being so awesome. No good can come of this.
Frank doesn't really think anything of it when he gets a busy signal when he calls Gerard to see if their plans for the night are still on the morning after New Year's.
Ray's off doing family stuff, Mikey's spending time with his wife, and Bob's in Chicago, so it's just Gerard and him and a nice chunk of time to do pretty much nothing. So like the losers they are, they're going to do that nothing together.
He doesn't think anything of it when he calls back a few hours later, either. In fact, he doesn't think anything of it until he's on his way over to Gerard's place and calls to let him know, and gets the busy signal again.
By then it occurs to him that even Gerard can't talk that much because it's almost seven and they have plans and Frank's kind of stupid sometimes.
He knows it's probably Gerard being Gerard, but they've had a weird year, and things have happened, mostly to Bob, but more importantly things could have happened to Gerard.
He rushes the rest of the way, waves distractedly at the door guy and forgoes the elevator for the stairs. Frank uses the key Gerard gave to him to let himself in and -
The place is a wreck.
The door clicks shut behind him and Frank takes a moment to calm the hell down because the mess he's seeing is thanks to Gerard being a fucking slob, not any sort of crisis.
He skirts around a pile of dirty socks and god knows what stuffed into a corner by the front door and puts his keys in his pocket. He calls out Gerard's name as he walks around looking for him, poking at things probably left better alone. Frank stops for a moment to put the telephone handset back on the charging station, frowning when he sees the odd scratches on the keypad.
He's still tense, worried, so when he glimpses something dark streaking past in the corner of his eye he spins around, arm drawn back and ready to throw the cell phone he still has gripped tightly in his hand and freezes when he realizes what he's looking at.
It's a scraggly looking cat, with fur sticking up every which way and watery eyes. The thing looks awful, and Frank takes a step back because it's probably sick and how the hell did it get in?
The cat sneezes and shakes its head, pawing irritably at something around its neck and Frank takes another step back. It doesn't move, just makes a pitiful mewling sort of noise and sneezes again. Frank feels kind of bad for it, but he's not going to risk touching it until he knows what's wrong with it.
Frank's thinking that it might be a good idea to call one of the guys, Mikey for sure because if anyone might know where Gerard would have gone it would be him, when the cat sneezes again.
It's ridiculous, okay. It is. Frank knows that, but he still turns around, and the cat.
The cat is staring at him, eyes narrowing slightly when Frank crouches and stretches out a hand towards it the way he usually does when he meets a new dog. Letting it get his scent first, showing it he's not a threat, that he's a friend. Only he's dealing with a cat, and the cat does not look horribly impressed with his gesture of goodwill. It gives itself a shake and Frank catches a faint glimmer of something metallic through the fur on its neck.
The cat meows, and it doesn't quite sound right, like its not used to making that sound, which is also ridiculous because it's a cat. Cat's meow, it's one of their things. It's what they do. Even a dog person like Frank knows that much.
The cat gets to its feet and pads towards him, eyes on him the entire time.
The cat stops at the couch and jumps up, making an annoyed noise when the cushions sink beneath it, making the cat wobble uncertainly on its feet before it regains its footing. He chokes back a hysterical giggle when the cat scowls at the cushion, and watches as it climbs up onto the arm of the couch. Frank blinks when he realizes it's at eye level to him, head cocked to one side as it looks at him.
The cat sneezes in Frank's face, and does a weird little snorting-huffing thing before leaning out and wiping its face on the front of Frank's hoodie. When it pulls back it's nose is dry and Frank makes a face.
"Gross."
The cat - Frank can't believe he even knows this, but the cat fucking smirks at him.
"So what," Frank says, stretching out a hand to the cat again, half convinced it's going to try to bite him or scratch him, but it just stares at his hand. "Stupid Gerard decided to get a cat that's allergic to itself?"
The cat hisses and takes a swipe at Frank's hand before he can jerk it away.
Frank swears and overbalances, falling on his ass, but there's no pain. No stinging sensation on his hand and when he looks there's no blood, the skin smooth and unbroken because the cat didn't actually scratch him.
He looks back to see it backed up on the arm of the couch, poised like it's about to bolt. Ears laid back and wide-eyed like its just as surprised as he is by its reaction, and Frank.
Frank finally gets a good look at what's around the cat's neck and sort of blanks for a moment, because there's no way - shit like that isn't supposed to happen in real life.
The cat sneezes again, the force of it causing it to fall off the arm of the couch with a startled yowl and the total absence of anything resembling grace. That's when Frank really starts to believe he's seeing what he's seeing.
"Holy shit."
The cat tries to untangle itself from a scarf, kicking furiously as one end gets caught on its claws, growling softly to itself and oh, yeah, Frank's totally not imagining it. When it finally gets free it the cat gives itself one last good shake and sits down in front of him, tail curling neatly around its paws as it meets his eyes steadily.
"Gerard?"
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Frank forgets abouts calling the guys and dials an out of state number form memory, eyes glued to the cat. To Gerard.
Patrick picks up just before his phone goes to voice mail, and he sounds like he's seconds away from losing his shit.
"Jesus, leave that alone!"
Frank winces and pulls the phone away form his ear because Patrick's a singer, and he's got fucking range.
"Patrick?"
There's a faint yowl in the background and the sound of something breaking followed by Patrick swearing a blue streak before the phone disconnects.
Frank stares at the phone in his hand and over at Gerard who is sitting up watching him with interest.
"Yeah, so." Frank says. "Patrick's a little busy."
Gerard snorts and swipes at the thing around his neck again, and Frank feels. It's not. It's not guilt exactly, just something really, really close to it.
He never really meant to give the stupid thing to Gerard, never thought he'd have to guts even though he's given him a ton of stupid shit over the years. It was just. It was supposed to be special, and Frank had looked for a long fucking time before he'd found it and he'd sent to Gerard before he could second-guess himself, only he'd put it in the mail too late for it to get there for Christmas and he needs to stop babbling in his own head.
"I guess you opened the box." Frank flops back against the couch cushions to watch Gerard. "Merry, uh. Merry belated Christmas."
Gerard goes still, and slowly lifts his head to stare at Frank. And okay, so the whole staring thing is a dozen times creepier now with the whole Gerard being a cat thing.
Gerard's eyes narrow, lips peeling back over a shitload of tiny, sharp teeth and Frank presses himself into the the cushions. "I didn't know!"
Gerard stands up, and there, there is some of that grace cats are supposed to have. Only it's freaking Frank out a little more than it normally would because Gerard looks pissed.
He sneezes and shakes his head, and when he looks back at Frank he looks pissed and miserable.
"How was I supposed to know?" Frank demands, throwing his hands up. "The old lady told us they were supposed to bring good luck and long life. It sounded like a good thing!"
Another sneeze, and Gerard drops down onto the floor, scrubbing his face against the carpet for a second before he goes completely boneless in the way only cats can. He looks horrible, and Frank feels like a major shit even though he seriously didn't know.
It - seriously. It was just Patrick and him going around poking their noses into tiny little shops the one time they were both in town at the same time, and the stupid pendants had been right there.
Shiny and kind of cool looking and the storekeeper - apparently movies don't lie when it comes to creepy old women in dusty little stores - had smiled at them and asked if they were looking for anything in particular. And Patrick.
Patrick okay, he was the one who'd said they were looking for something special for their friends, and even if Patrick had never specified what sort of friends he'd been talking about, the woman had smirked at them like she totally knew anyway.
And, yes, that had been creepy and more than a little disturbing, but -
Gerard sneezes again, and Frank winces when he drags himself across the distance separating them and wipes his face against Frank's ankle. "Thanks, motherfucker."
There's a small, satisfied meow from floor-level.
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Patrick calls him back an hour or so later and tells Frank in an eerily calm voice to keep Gerard away from catnip before hanging up.
Frank stares at Gerard, curled in a miserable little ball of black fur on his lap and thinks that yeah, no. That's not going to be a problem.
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Frank doesn't really think anything of it when he gets a busy signal when he calls Gerard to see if their plans for the night are still on the morning after New Year's.
Ray's off doing family stuff, Mikey's spending time with his wife, and Bob's in Chicago, so it's just Gerard and him and a nice chunk of time to do pretty much nothing. So like the losers they are, they're going to do that nothing together.
He doesn't think anything of it when he calls back a few hours later, either. In fact, he doesn't think anything of it until he's on his way over to Gerard's place and calls to let him know, and gets the busy signal again.
By then it occurs to him that even Gerard can't talk that much because it's almost seven and they have plans and Frank's kind of stupid sometimes.
He knows it's probably Gerard being Gerard, but they've had a weird year, and things have happened, mostly to Bob, but more importantly things could have happened to Gerard.
He rushes the rest of the way, waves distractedly at the door guy and forgoes the elevator for the stairs. Frank uses the key Gerard gave to him to let himself in and -
The place is a wreck.
The door clicks shut behind him and Frank takes a moment to calm the hell down because the mess he's seeing is thanks to Gerard being a fucking slob, not any sort of crisis.
He skirts around a pile of dirty socks and god knows what stuffed into a corner by the front door and puts his keys in his pocket. He calls out Gerard's name as he walks around looking for him, poking at things probably left better alone. Frank stops for a moment to put the telephone handset back on the charging station, frowning when he sees the odd scratches on the keypad.
He's still tense, worried, so when he glimpses something dark streaking past in the corner of his eye he spins around, arm drawn back and ready to throw the cell phone he still has gripped tightly in his hand and freezes when he realizes what he's looking at.
It's a scraggly looking cat, with fur sticking up every which way and watery eyes. The thing looks awful, and Frank takes a step back because it's probably sick and how the hell did it get in?
The cat sneezes and shakes its head, pawing irritably at something around its neck and Frank takes another step back. It doesn't move, just makes a pitiful mewling sort of noise and sneezes again. Frank feels kind of bad for it, but he's not going to risk touching it until he knows what's wrong with it.
Frank's thinking that it might be a good idea to call one of the guys, Mikey for sure because if anyone might know where Gerard would have gone it would be him, when the cat sneezes again.
It's ridiculous, okay. It is. Frank knows that, but he still turns around, and the cat.
The cat is staring at him, eyes narrowing slightly when Frank crouches and stretches out a hand towards it the way he usually does when he meets a new dog. Letting it get his scent first, showing it he's not a threat, that he's a friend. Only he's dealing with a cat, and the cat does not look horribly impressed with his gesture of goodwill. It gives itself a shake and Frank catches a faint glimmer of something metallic through the fur on its neck.
The cat meows, and it doesn't quite sound right, like its not used to making that sound, which is also ridiculous because it's a cat. Cat's meow, it's one of their things. It's what they do. Even a dog person like Frank knows that much.
The cat gets to its feet and pads towards him, eyes on him the entire time.
The cat stops at the couch and jumps up, making an annoyed noise when the cushions sink beneath it, making the cat wobble uncertainly on its feet before it regains its footing. He chokes back a hysterical giggle when the cat scowls at the cushion, and watches as it climbs up onto the arm of the couch. Frank blinks when he realizes it's at eye level to him, head cocked to one side as it looks at him.
The cat sneezes in Frank's face, and does a weird little snorting-huffing thing before leaning out and wiping its face on the front of Frank's hoodie. When it pulls back it's nose is dry and Frank makes a face.
"Gross."
The cat - Frank can't believe he even knows this, but the cat fucking smirks at him.
"So what," Frank says, stretching out a hand to the cat again, half convinced it's going to try to bite him or scratch him, but it just stares at his hand. "Stupid Gerard decided to get a cat that's allergic to itself?"
The cat hisses and takes a swipe at Frank's hand before he can jerk it away.
Frank swears and overbalances, falling on his ass, but there's no pain. No stinging sensation on his hand and when he looks there's no blood, the skin smooth and unbroken because the cat didn't actually scratch him.
He looks back to see it backed up on the arm of the couch, poised like it's about to bolt. Ears laid back and wide-eyed like its just as surprised as he is by its reaction, and Frank.
Frank finally gets a good look at what's around the cat's neck and sort of blanks for a moment, because there's no way - shit like that isn't supposed to happen in real life.
The cat sneezes again, the force of it causing it to fall off the arm of the couch with a startled yowl and the total absence of anything resembling grace. That's when Frank really starts to believe he's seeing what he's seeing.
"Holy shit."
The cat tries to untangle itself from a scarf, kicking furiously as one end gets caught on its claws, growling softly to itself and oh, yeah, Frank's totally not imagining it. When it finally gets free it the cat gives itself one last good shake and sits down in front of him, tail curling neatly around its paws as it meets his eyes steadily.
"Gerard?"
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Frank forgets abouts calling the guys and dials an out of state number form memory, eyes glued to the cat. To Gerard.
Patrick picks up just before his phone goes to voice mail, and he sounds like he's seconds away from losing his shit.
"Jesus, leave that alone!"
Frank winces and pulls the phone away form his ear because Patrick's a singer, and he's got fucking range.
"Patrick?"
There's a faint yowl in the background and the sound of something breaking followed by Patrick swearing a blue streak before the phone disconnects.
Frank stares at the phone in his hand and over at Gerard who is sitting up watching him with interest.
"Yeah, so." Frank says. "Patrick's a little busy."
Gerard snorts and swipes at the thing around his neck again, and Frank feels. It's not. It's not guilt exactly, just something really, really close to it.
He never really meant to give the stupid thing to Gerard, never thought he'd have to guts even though he's given him a ton of stupid shit over the years. It was just. It was supposed to be special, and Frank had looked for a long fucking time before he'd found it and he'd sent to Gerard before he could second-guess himself, only he'd put it in the mail too late for it to get there for Christmas and he needs to stop babbling in his own head.
"I guess you opened the box." Frank flops back against the couch cushions to watch Gerard. "Merry, uh. Merry belated Christmas."
Gerard goes still, and slowly lifts his head to stare at Frank. And okay, so the whole staring thing is a dozen times creepier now with the whole Gerard being a cat thing.
Gerard's eyes narrow, lips peeling back over a shitload of tiny, sharp teeth and Frank presses himself into the the cushions. "I didn't know!"
Gerard stands up, and there, there is some of that grace cats are supposed to have. Only it's freaking Frank out a little more than it normally would because Gerard looks pissed.
He sneezes and shakes his head, and when he looks back at Frank he looks pissed and miserable.
"How was I supposed to know?" Frank demands, throwing his hands up. "The old lady told us they were supposed to bring good luck and long life. It sounded like a good thing!"
Another sneeze, and Gerard drops down onto the floor, scrubbing his face against the carpet for a second before he goes completely boneless in the way only cats can. He looks horrible, and Frank feels like a major shit even though he seriously didn't know.
It - seriously. It was just Patrick and him going around poking their noses into tiny little shops the one time they were both in town at the same time, and the stupid pendants had been right there.
Shiny and kind of cool looking and the storekeeper - apparently movies don't lie when it comes to creepy old women in dusty little stores - had smiled at them and asked if they were looking for anything in particular. And Patrick.
Patrick okay, he was the one who'd said they were looking for something special for their friends, and even if Patrick had never specified what sort of friends he'd been talking about, the woman had smirked at them like she totally knew anyway.
And, yes, that had been creepy and more than a little disturbing, but -
Gerard sneezes again, and Frank winces when he drags himself across the distance separating them and wipes his face against Frank's ankle. "Thanks, motherfucker."
There's a small, satisfied meow from floor-level.
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Patrick calls him back an hour or so later and tells Frank in an eerily calm voice to keep Gerard away from catnip before hanging up.
Frank stares at Gerard, curled in a miserable little ball of black fur on his lap and thinks that yeah, no. That's not going to be a problem.
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