Happy Holidays, emilydear!
To: emilydear
From: shoemaster
Title: People Mover
Characters: Frank/Gerard
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1100
Summary: Early days of My Chem. Mostly pre-slash.
Disclaimer: Even more not real than usual.
Notes: Thanks to K for the beta.
"So you're our groupie," Gerard said, tossing Frank's lighter back to him.
Frank pockets the cheap Bic and snorted. "Fuck you, I have my own band. Yours hasn't even played a show yet."
"But you love us," Gerard said. "You love us and you haven't even seen us play."
Frank let his head fall back against the concrete as he took another drag off his cigarette. "Rehearsal doesn't count?"
Gerard wrinkled his nose. "No."
"Well cheer up then, because my cousin got you guys some gigs."
"See, you do love us!" Gerard said gleefully.
"I'm not your fucking groupie; I'm more like your manager at this point. You can say thank you later."
Gerard definitely wasn't going to say thank you then, because he was starting to look a little green. "Gigs. Real gigs, with an audience."
"Yeah, here, Philly, I think one in New York. Dude, are you okay?" Frank really didn't want to deal with Gerard throwing up at three in the afternoon. "This is what you wanted, right?"
"Yeah, no, I just. Didn't think it would happen so quickly," Gerard says, staring at the pavement.
Frank slid along the brick wall until he was shoulder to shoulder with Gerard. "Seriously? You guys already have demos. Do you have any idea how long it took for us to get our shit together enough for that?"
Gerard was clinging to his cigarette like it was a life line.
"I'll bring beer. Don't worry man."
*
"We have a van!" Gerard announced grandly when Frank slipped into the seat next to him at the diner.
"Don't be kidding, Gee, please tell me you're not kidding." He wasn't looking forward to touring for three weeks in his Chevy Malibu.
"I'm not! My grandma and grandpa bought one for us. It isn't, like, fancy or any shit like that, but it's a van. Room for guitars and drums and fuck. We're really doing this," Gerard said. He was practically vibrating with excitement. Or maybe that was just the coffee. Frank stole Gerard's cup and took a big sip; he was doing Gerard's future ulcer a favor.
Gerard didn't seem to notice. "Our very own van."
"We should get your grandma some flowers, dude. A thank you card would be kind of weak." His mom would totally make him write one, too, like he was ten again and thanking his aunts for the sweaters they got him for Christmas.
"Yeah, but aren't roses really expensive?" Gerard asked, stealing back his cup.
Frank shrugged. "If Matt and Ray pitch in, too, it could work. Or hmm."
"Hmm, what?" Gerard asked, elbowing Frank. "What hmm?"
"My neighbor - the old lady who calls me a hoodlum because of my fucking hair - she grows tulips."
"Grandma like tulips, but should we really be stealing from your neighbor?"
"She stole my Frisbee when I was eight. I think we can take some of her tulips. Your grandma deserves them more, anyway," Frank said bitterly.
"She stole it?" Gerard asked skeptically.
"It landed in her yard and she refused to give it back," Frank said crossing his arms.
"Poor Frankie," Gerard said, patting Frank's elbow. "We can't do it now anyway, it's still light out."
"So we can go back to my house and wait for the sun to set. I still have most of a case left from the other day."
They went back to Frank's house, and the sun set shortly thereafter, but it took them another hour before they finished the beer and ventured outside. Neither of them considered themselves drunk, exactly, but they weren't very graceful to begin with, and when Gerard tripped into the fence between the lawns, Frank started giggling.
It was high and loud as always, and Gerard nearly tripped again in his rush to cover Frank's mouth with his hand. "Dude, you are the worst spy ever."
Frank licked Gerard's hand, but Gerard just blinked at him.
"Fver nit thpies fver theifs," Frank said against Gerard's hand, when it became clear that he didn't plan on moving it.
"What?" Gerard asked dropping his hand.
"We're not spies, dumbass, we're thieves."
"Whatever, we're stealing for a noble cause; spies do that shit all the time."
"Yeah, so did Robin Hood," Frank said before leading Gerard around the fence. "Now do you think Grandma wants pink or yellow?"
*
This was the fourth time the van had broken down in the past three weeks. This time it was only a flat tire, which they could probably fix on their own. Well, Matt and Ray could probably fix it.
"Your grandma got us a shitty van," Frank said, kicking Mikey in the foot.
"Fuck you, asshole, where's the van your grandma bought?" Mikey said, rolling his eyes.
Frank exhaled smoke up into Mikey's face until Mikey wandered to the other side of the van.
"Do you think we should help or something?" Gerard asked, looking over to where Ray and Matt were doing…something with a lug wrench.
"NO," they said in emphatic unison.
Gerard made a sad noise and big eyes at Frank.
"Don't look at me, I'm not the one who doesn't appreciate your generous nature," Frank said, even if he kind of agreed with the other guys.
Ray ran a hand through his hair. "Check to see if there are any flashlights in the front seat? It's getting kind of dark out."
"Okay!" Gerard said, skipping to the front door.
He returned a minute later, generic red plastic flashlight in hand. "Now what?"
"Point it at the bolts we haven't uncapped yet," Matt said.
Gerard did so and looked smugly over to Frank. "I'm helping."
"Whatever, I could help if I wanted to," Frank said, flick ash onto the littered shoulder of the highway.
"There's only one flashlight," Gerard said. "I looked."
"I can help you hold it," Frank offered.
Gerard stared at him. "How?"
Frank stubbed out his cigarette under his shoe and slid in front of Gerard so his shoulder was positioned under Gerard's raised arm. It was a little bit like cuddling - especially when Gerard wrapped his other arm around Frank's stomach - which Frank was okay with, it's not like he needed an excuse to cuddle with Gerard. It was cold out here, too.
"See, helping," he said, watching Ray and Matt fight with the last bolt.
"Yeah, good thing you're so short," Gerard said against the shell of Frank's ear.
"Fucker," Frank said, leaning back against Gerard's chest.
"You love me," Gerard said simply.
Frank hummed in agreement. "You think we can make it home on the spare?"
"Totally," Gerard said. "It's only, what, a hundred and fifty miles? I mean, I think so."
A minute later he added, "I hope so."
From: shoemaster
Title: People Mover
Characters: Frank/Gerard
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1100
Summary: Early days of My Chem. Mostly pre-slash.
Disclaimer: Even more not real than usual.
Notes: Thanks to K for the beta.
"So you're our groupie," Gerard said, tossing Frank's lighter back to him.
Frank pockets the cheap Bic and snorted. "Fuck you, I have my own band. Yours hasn't even played a show yet."
"But you love us," Gerard said. "You love us and you haven't even seen us play."
Frank let his head fall back against the concrete as he took another drag off his cigarette. "Rehearsal doesn't count?"
Gerard wrinkled his nose. "No."
"Well cheer up then, because my cousin got you guys some gigs."
"See, you do love us!" Gerard said gleefully.
"I'm not your fucking groupie; I'm more like your manager at this point. You can say thank you later."
Gerard definitely wasn't going to say thank you then, because he was starting to look a little green. "Gigs. Real gigs, with an audience."
"Yeah, here, Philly, I think one in New York. Dude, are you okay?" Frank really didn't want to deal with Gerard throwing up at three in the afternoon. "This is what you wanted, right?"
"Yeah, no, I just. Didn't think it would happen so quickly," Gerard says, staring at the pavement.
Frank slid along the brick wall until he was shoulder to shoulder with Gerard. "Seriously? You guys already have demos. Do you have any idea how long it took for us to get our shit together enough for that?"
Gerard was clinging to his cigarette like it was a life line.
"I'll bring beer. Don't worry man."
*
"We have a van!" Gerard announced grandly when Frank slipped into the seat next to him at the diner.
"Don't be kidding, Gee, please tell me you're not kidding." He wasn't looking forward to touring for three weeks in his Chevy Malibu.
"I'm not! My grandma and grandpa bought one for us. It isn't, like, fancy or any shit like that, but it's a van. Room for guitars and drums and fuck. We're really doing this," Gerard said. He was practically vibrating with excitement. Or maybe that was just the coffee. Frank stole Gerard's cup and took a big sip; he was doing Gerard's future ulcer a favor.
Gerard didn't seem to notice. "Our very own van."
"We should get your grandma some flowers, dude. A thank you card would be kind of weak." His mom would totally make him write one, too, like he was ten again and thanking his aunts for the sweaters they got him for Christmas.
"Yeah, but aren't roses really expensive?" Gerard asked, stealing back his cup.
Frank shrugged. "If Matt and Ray pitch in, too, it could work. Or hmm."
"Hmm, what?" Gerard asked, elbowing Frank. "What hmm?"
"My neighbor - the old lady who calls me a hoodlum because of my fucking hair - she grows tulips."
"Grandma like tulips, but should we really be stealing from your neighbor?"
"She stole my Frisbee when I was eight. I think we can take some of her tulips. Your grandma deserves them more, anyway," Frank said bitterly.
"She stole it?" Gerard asked skeptically.
"It landed in her yard and she refused to give it back," Frank said crossing his arms.
"Poor Frankie," Gerard said, patting Frank's elbow. "We can't do it now anyway, it's still light out."
"So we can go back to my house and wait for the sun to set. I still have most of a case left from the other day."
They went back to Frank's house, and the sun set shortly thereafter, but it took them another hour before they finished the beer and ventured outside. Neither of them considered themselves drunk, exactly, but they weren't very graceful to begin with, and when Gerard tripped into the fence between the lawns, Frank started giggling.
It was high and loud as always, and Gerard nearly tripped again in his rush to cover Frank's mouth with his hand. "Dude, you are the worst spy ever."
Frank licked Gerard's hand, but Gerard just blinked at him.
"Fver nit thpies fver theifs," Frank said against Gerard's hand, when it became clear that he didn't plan on moving it.
"What?" Gerard asked dropping his hand.
"We're not spies, dumbass, we're thieves."
"Whatever, we're stealing for a noble cause; spies do that shit all the time."
"Yeah, so did Robin Hood," Frank said before leading Gerard around the fence. "Now do you think Grandma wants pink or yellow?"
*
This was the fourth time the van had broken down in the past three weeks. This time it was only a flat tire, which they could probably fix on their own. Well, Matt and Ray could probably fix it.
"Your grandma got us a shitty van," Frank said, kicking Mikey in the foot.
"Fuck you, asshole, where's the van your grandma bought?" Mikey said, rolling his eyes.
Frank exhaled smoke up into Mikey's face until Mikey wandered to the other side of the van.
"Do you think we should help or something?" Gerard asked, looking over to where Ray and Matt were doing…something with a lug wrench.
"NO," they said in emphatic unison.
Gerard made a sad noise and big eyes at Frank.
"Don't look at me, I'm not the one who doesn't appreciate your generous nature," Frank said, even if he kind of agreed with the other guys.
Ray ran a hand through his hair. "Check to see if there are any flashlights in the front seat? It's getting kind of dark out."
"Okay!" Gerard said, skipping to the front door.
He returned a minute later, generic red plastic flashlight in hand. "Now what?"
"Point it at the bolts we haven't uncapped yet," Matt said.
Gerard did so and looked smugly over to Frank. "I'm helping."
"Whatever, I could help if I wanted to," Frank said, flick ash onto the littered shoulder of the highway.
"There's only one flashlight," Gerard said. "I looked."
"I can help you hold it," Frank offered.
Gerard stared at him. "How?"
Frank stubbed out his cigarette under his shoe and slid in front of Gerard so his shoulder was positioned under Gerard's raised arm. It was a little bit like cuddling - especially when Gerard wrapped his other arm around Frank's stomach - which Frank was okay with, it's not like he needed an excuse to cuddle with Gerard. It was cold out here, too.
"See, helping," he said, watching Ray and Matt fight with the last bolt.
"Yeah, good thing you're so short," Gerard said against the shell of Frank's ear.
"Fucker," Frank said, leaning back against Gerard's chest.
"You love me," Gerard said simply.
Frank hummed in agreement. "You think we can make it home on the spare?"
"Totally," Gerard said. "It's only, what, a hundred and fifty miles? I mean, I think so."
A minute later he added, "I hope so."