(FIC): ... And the Very Silly Way You Grin.
Title:: ...And the Very Silly Way You Grin.
Author: lea_ndra
Band: My Chemical Romance
Pairings: Frank/Gerard
Word Count: 2.700
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Fluff. Desperate abuse of a Christmas cliché.
Disclaimer: Obviously, this is all fiction.
Thanks: To littlblackghost for the kinda-prompt and the general idea and raina_at for the quick beta.
This is for you, littlblackghost - I hope you enjoy this very early X-mas present!
Summary: littlblackghost wanted a fic where Gerard was a kid show host and Frank was a backstage worker. Very much inspired by MCR’s "Yo Gabba Gabba!" episode.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, motherfucker, fuck, fucking asshole! Fucking fuck! Motherfucking fucking fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.“
Gerard huffs out a breath of air after the last word is out, before lighting a cigarette, fidgeting around so much that Louisa, the costume girl, yanks on the waistband of his green-striped pants.
“Hold still, or I'm gonna poke you with my needle!“ she threatens, yanking him back towards her some more, her head bent over her stitching work, wavy hair falling into her face.
“You always poke me with your fucking needles,“ Gerard complains, raking a hand through his fire-truck red hair. “I fucking hate needles.“
He starts to curse again, yelling out a string of expletives against the mirror that would make anyone not used to it flinch and call the cops or the people with straightjackets.
Frank is pretty used to Gerard's cursing. He's been working as a sound technician and stage hand for years now, and he's seen a couple of strange rituals show people have before going on stage to do a live recording. There are the nervous ones, who fidget and twitch and can't sit still for a moment, driving the backstage people up the wall. There are the silent ones, who don't wanna talk to anyone before the show and start to be really bitchy if people do. Some have stage-fright, some need alcohol, others do yoga or have a massage therapist come in every day before show. There was this one guy whose assistant allegedly gave him a blowjob before he was ready to present the weather.
Gerard Way doesn't ask for blowjobs (even if Frank would be happy to provide them). Gerard Way curses.
On his first day, Frank thought that maybe Gerard had Tourette syndrome, but then, no one in their right mind would let anyone with Tourette host a kid's show. When Frank asked about the cursing, clipping the beltpack to Gerard's waistband and adjusting the cables of his headset, checking that everything was in order, Gerard tossed his head back and laughed like a mad man.
“Have to get it out of my system before I'm let loose on 3-year olds,“ he said, smiling one of his huge grins, the ones that show all his tiny, funny teeth.
Yeah, Frank is madly in love with him.
Gerard is finally through his cursing round number two, and Louisa severs the green thread with which she has fixed a small tear in Gerard's pants and steps back to look her handiwork over with a critical eye.
“You're the sexiest Christmas elf, ever,“ she says, hands on her hips, “I'm not sure we should inflict you on children. Remember how David Bowie sexually confused a generation of kids in Labyrinth?“
“My pants aren't that tight,“ Gerard replies, studying himself in the mirror, twisting and turning and looking at himself from all angles. “Right?“
Frank clears his throat and looks elsewhere, because he really doesn't wanna talk about this. Fact is, Gerard's pants are very tight and very green and very striped and Gerard is very sexy.
Louisa snickers. „If it makes you feel better, your green tunic will cover the important bits.“
She looks over at Frank and winks at him. “I'm gonna hand you over to Frank's capable hands now. Frank, he's all yours.“
Frank hates Louisa, because she's evil. It's probably not too difficult to pick up on the ginormous crush Frank has on Gerard, but she's always on his case, teasing him and making embarrassing remarks.
She saunters out, swinging her little purse holding her last minute sewing kit, and he glares after her for a moment, before turning back around, finding Gerard looking at him from in the mirror, a strange and somewhat curious expression on his face.
Frank blushes and ducks his head, fumbling with the beltpack in his hands. He reaches out and pulls back the waistband of Gerard's pants, clipping the beltpack to it, making sure it holds. He stares at the creamy white patch of skin where Gerard's white shirt has ridden up, thinking about how he’d to put his mouth there.
“What are you doing for the holidays?“
Gerard's soft question startles Frank out of his fantasy of dropping to his knees and mouthing at that tempting little bit of skin, and he nearly drops the cord and Isomax headset he's holding.
“Uhm,“ he stutters, straightening and glancing over Gerard's shoulder into the mirror, „not much. Spending it with my family in Jersey.“
He sees Gerard bite his lips, his teeth digging in hard, before he suddenly smiles. “That's good.“
“And... and you?“ Frank asks, figuring it is polite to ask as well, even though he dreads the answer. Gerard is pretty private about things, even though everybody involved in the production suspects he's gay, but he has never brought anyone to the studio with him.
Gerard cringes a bit, but he's grinning, as if he's embarrassed. “I'm spending the holidays with my Mom and Dad, too.“
„Are you bringing your boyfriend?“ Frank hears himself ask, and when he realizes what he said he desperately wants to take the red poinsettia on Gerard's dresser and hit the pot over his head. “Or girlfriend?“ he hastens to add.
Gerard snorts out a laugh. “Ah, no. No boyfriend this year. Just me and my parents.“
“Good,“ Frank breathes out, “I mean, that's a pity.“ The poinsettia is looking more and more like the perfect way out of this. Maybe he could knock himself out with the plant. That would certainly help him to shut the fuck up.
He doesn't dare look at Gerard, but out of the corners of his eyes he sees Gerard shrug, his shoulders shifting awkwardly.
He quickly connects the cable to the beltpack and leads it up Gerard's back. He steps around, brushing a bit of Gerard's hair away to settle the earpiece behind his ear, adjusting it. There's a spark when he touches Gerard's earlobe and they both flinch away, Frank hitting his lower back on the dresser behind him.
Gerard laughs nervously, before stepping forward again. His face is red, the tips of his ear practically glowing. Frank feels like his own face is smarting, he's so embarrassed.
They jump again when the door opens and Christian sticks his head in. “Call in 5,“ he says, before he's gone again.
“We'd better get you into your costume,“ Frank murmurs, taking a deep breath and reaching up to adjust the mouthpiece on Gerard's cheek. They both hold extremely still, the smoke from Gerard's lit cigarette curling between them. Usually, Gerard will chatter away, tell him all about his ideas for the next shows, the outrageous costumes he plans to wear, the songs he's working on with the creative team.
Frank is glad when the headset sits correctly and he is able to step away. He reaches for Gerard's tunic and helps him into it, focussing on the task at hand and not on how Gerard's white shirt slips out of his pants and moves upwards when he lifts his arms. Together they manage to get the tunic on without disturbing the perfect fit of the headset.
Gerard takes another drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray and reaching for his green elf hat. He dons it, then takes another look into the mirror, pulling a bit on the strands of his crazy red hair.
“Fine,“ he finally announces, “let's fucking go.“
As Frank leads the way to the stage through the labyrinth of long corridors, stepping carefully over miles and miles of cable, Gerard starts up behind him again. “Fuck, fuck, fuckety fuck! Motherfucker! Motherfuck! Fucking...“
*-*
Even though it's part of his job, Frank loves watching Gerard from the side of the stage. He's in his usual spot next to the sound tech table, newly loaded beltpacks and ersatz headsets neatly organized so he can jump in to replace faulty equipment immediately. He can get these things on Gerard in under 10 seconds if necessary, depending on the costume. There's also a wireless hand mic charged, for when everything else fails.
On stage, Gerard is prancing around in his elf costume, singing a cheery, rocky tune about snowflakes. His voice isn't very winsome, even though he hits every note - he sounds scratchy and raw, a voice that would rather befit the singer of a hard core band. The children love him anyway, eating up every word, squealing and clapping.
Gerard isn't just a kid show host, he's also the creative brain behind his show. Even though there's a whole crew of producers, editors, song writers, costume and set designers behind him, it's really Gerard's vision that drives the show. He regularly comes up with ideas, bringing with him notebooks filled with colorful outfit designs or lyrics. They've had a couple of problems with ultra-conservative groups in the past, because if there's one thing Gerard Way stands for, it's equality and tolerance, and these values thread through every piece of every show they put on.
It's the 20th of December and the Christmas episode today, and Gerard dances around stage in his elf costume, involving his little audience and telling a story about Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer and the troubles he was facing at reindeer school, because he was different.
Frank is a tough guy; he has two full sleeves of tattoos and a pierced lip and he listens to punk music. On Friday nights he likes to go to concerts and mosh until his body screams with pain. He should probably not be totally entranced by a dorky red-haired guy in an elf costume telling stories to little children, but he is.
The Christmas show turns out to be a complete success, just like expected. When the credits start to roll, Frank feels the underlying tension of being attentive all the time slip from his shoulders. He cleans up the tech table, stowing away the equipment in its boxes, and waits for Gerard to come off stage. They have a little ritual - Gerard will always step off stage on the left, and Frank will wait in the wings, a pack of cigarette ready for Gerard to light up when he gets off. Smoking in the wings is actually forbidden, but it's Gerard, and so far he hasn't set anything on fire. Frank takes off Gerard's headset while Gerard smokes, then they will exchange a couple of words and regretfully part ways.
Only today, Gerard doesn't come. Frank waits for 5 minutes, wondering where Gerard is, because he always comes past him, he has to, to get off stage. Another 5 minutes later, Gerard still isn't there, and Frank steps out onto the stage and goes to find him. It's strange to be on stage after a live show - the last of the kids are ushered out of the auditorium by their caretakers, their loud excited chatter echoing off the walls. Several stage hands crawl around on stage, disconnecting equipment, rolling up miles of cable, removing today's set. Frank always feels exposed when he's on stage, even if he's only one of the backstage people who in their black getup never get any attention.
He finally finds Gerard in the far right corner of the stage, half hidden behind a huge monitor box, crouching on the floor, his back to Frank as he fumbles with something. When Frank gets closer, Gerard turns around. His hair is rumpled, his tunic askew, and he flushes deeply when he spots Frank.
“I'm... kind of tangled up,“ he admits, sounding deeply embarrassed, holding up a mess of tangled cables and the snow garlands decorating the Christmas set.
Frank can't help it, he bursts out laughing. „What are you even doing back here?“ he asks, crouching down next to Gerard and reaching for the cable to help him untangle his headset cable from the rest of the mess.
“I kinda had to pee really badly and went off stage right and then when I came back, I didn't realize that my headset had slipped and when I walked by, I got caught in that stupid snow garland and when I tried to get out of it...“ Gerard explains helplessly, and Frank snorts some more, untangling Gerard's cable from the rest.
“You are something else,“ he says, grinning, and Gerard blushes. “There you go.“ He separates the last bit of Gerard's equipment, taking it off him completely, before helping him up from the floor.
“This is really embarrassing,“ Gerard says, not looking at Frank, but brushing a hand on the dusty knees of his green pants.
“Ah, don't worry, you're not the first one to get tangled up in their equipment,“ Frank tries to reassure him, amused and feeling really ridiculously fond.
When Gerard straightens, he bumps his head on something, and they both crane their heads and look up.
“Mistletoe,“ Gerard says, and he sounds kind of weird, kind of disbelieving.
“Oh,“ Frank says, then adds, “uhm, I guess they are all over the set today.“
“Guess so,“ Gerard echoes, and lowers his eyes to look right at Frank.
Frank can feel the heat rise in his face, starting at his throat and creeping upwards. His hands are suddenly sweaty and cold at the same time.
“I think you are supposed to kiss me now.“ Gerard's voice is soft, almost teasing, but with a nervous, breathless quality to it.
Frank feels the butterflies churn in his stomach and he sways a bit on his feet, before he catches himself. He can't really believe this is happening. A mistletoe. Seriously. How cliché.
Gerard is still looking at him, his brown eyes wide and expectant, and Frank wets his lips, before leaning forward, pressing their lips together. Frank only planned to plant a brief kiss on Gerard, but he hasn't expected Gerard's lips to turn out so soft and warm, and he lingers, unable to draw back. Against his lips, Gerard makes a content, humming sound, and then Gerard's fingers dig into Frank's arms, and he pulls him closer.
On a startled gasp, Frank opens his mouth, and Gerard pushes forward, his tongue dipping between Frank's lips. It's Frank's time to groan, and Gerard laughs softly into his mouth.
When they finally break apart, Frank feels like his knees are made of rubber. The world is soft around the edges. In front of him, Gerard wears the most idiotic grin, ever, beaming from one ear to the other. He looks incredibly mischievous in his elf get-up, his pale face flushed, his lips wet and red.
“I always wanted to do this,“ Gerard confesses breathily.
Frank narrows his eyes a bit at him suspiciously. “Did you arrange this?“ he asks, pointing up at the mistletoes still hanging over them, swaying softly.
Gerard glares a bit, the expression ruined by how he's still smiling at the same time. „What? No! You'd really think I'd do that?“
“Uhm... hell, yeah?“ Frank suggests.
“I fucking swear, I didn't plan it,“ Gerard protests. “Although, if I had known it would work out like this....“
He trails off, chewing on his lip as he stares at Frank. “I mean - you like the kissing, right?“
“Yeah,“ Frank says hoarsely, “I like the kissing.“
Gerard beams and pulls him closer, pressing their lips together once more.
When they pull apart this time, both breathing hard, Frank blurts out, “How can you not know I’ve had a giant crush on you since I started working here!“
“How could you not know?!“ Gerard counters, but he's still beaming, looking like the happiest Christmas elf on earth.
Frank shakes his head. “God,“ he murmurs.
“Frankie,“ Gerard says, pawing a bit at Frank's arm, “if you don't mind, let's get off stage now, okay? These pants are really tight.“
Frank's mouth twitches and he slides his hand down Gerard's arm, taking his hand, linking their fingers together.
“Oh, I can help with that,“ he says, pulling Gerard with him, thinking about the solitude of Gerard's dressing room and all the pale skin he desperately wants to taste.
The End
Author: lea_ndra
Band: My Chemical Romance
Pairings: Frank/Gerard
Word Count: 2.700
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Fluff. Desperate abuse of a Christmas cliché.
Disclaimer: Obviously, this is all fiction.
Thanks: To littlblackghost for the kinda-prompt and the general idea and raina_at for the quick beta.
This is for you, littlblackghost - I hope you enjoy this very early X-mas present!
Summary: littlblackghost wanted a fic where Gerard was a kid show host and Frank was a backstage worker. Very much inspired by MCR’s "Yo Gabba Gabba!" episode.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, motherfucker, fuck, fucking asshole! Fucking fuck! Motherfucking fucking fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.“
Gerard huffs out a breath of air after the last word is out, before lighting a cigarette, fidgeting around so much that Louisa, the costume girl, yanks on the waistband of his green-striped pants.
“Hold still, or I'm gonna poke you with my needle!“ she threatens, yanking him back towards her some more, her head bent over her stitching work, wavy hair falling into her face.
“You always poke me with your fucking needles,“ Gerard complains, raking a hand through his fire-truck red hair. “I fucking hate needles.“
He starts to curse again, yelling out a string of expletives against the mirror that would make anyone not used to it flinch and call the cops or the people with straightjackets.
Frank is pretty used to Gerard's cursing. He's been working as a sound technician and stage hand for years now, and he's seen a couple of strange rituals show people have before going on stage to do a live recording. There are the nervous ones, who fidget and twitch and can't sit still for a moment, driving the backstage people up the wall. There are the silent ones, who don't wanna talk to anyone before the show and start to be really bitchy if people do. Some have stage-fright, some need alcohol, others do yoga or have a massage therapist come in every day before show. There was this one guy whose assistant allegedly gave him a blowjob before he was ready to present the weather.
Gerard Way doesn't ask for blowjobs (even if Frank would be happy to provide them). Gerard Way curses.
On his first day, Frank thought that maybe Gerard had Tourette syndrome, but then, no one in their right mind would let anyone with Tourette host a kid's show. When Frank asked about the cursing, clipping the beltpack to Gerard's waistband and adjusting the cables of his headset, checking that everything was in order, Gerard tossed his head back and laughed like a mad man.
“Have to get it out of my system before I'm let loose on 3-year olds,“ he said, smiling one of his huge grins, the ones that show all his tiny, funny teeth.
Yeah, Frank is madly in love with him.
Gerard is finally through his cursing round number two, and Louisa severs the green thread with which she has fixed a small tear in Gerard's pants and steps back to look her handiwork over with a critical eye.
“You're the sexiest Christmas elf, ever,“ she says, hands on her hips, “I'm not sure we should inflict you on children. Remember how David Bowie sexually confused a generation of kids in Labyrinth?“
“My pants aren't that tight,“ Gerard replies, studying himself in the mirror, twisting and turning and looking at himself from all angles. “Right?“
Frank clears his throat and looks elsewhere, because he really doesn't wanna talk about this. Fact is, Gerard's pants are very tight and very green and very striped and Gerard is very sexy.
Louisa snickers. „If it makes you feel better, your green tunic will cover the important bits.“
She looks over at Frank and winks at him. “I'm gonna hand you over to Frank's capable hands now. Frank, he's all yours.“
Frank hates Louisa, because she's evil. It's probably not too difficult to pick up on the ginormous crush Frank has on Gerard, but she's always on his case, teasing him and making embarrassing remarks.
She saunters out, swinging her little purse holding her last minute sewing kit, and he glares after her for a moment, before turning back around, finding Gerard looking at him from in the mirror, a strange and somewhat curious expression on his face.
Frank blushes and ducks his head, fumbling with the beltpack in his hands. He reaches out and pulls back the waistband of Gerard's pants, clipping the beltpack to it, making sure it holds. He stares at the creamy white patch of skin where Gerard's white shirt has ridden up, thinking about how he’d to put his mouth there.
“What are you doing for the holidays?“
Gerard's soft question startles Frank out of his fantasy of dropping to his knees and mouthing at that tempting little bit of skin, and he nearly drops the cord and Isomax headset he's holding.
“Uhm,“ he stutters, straightening and glancing over Gerard's shoulder into the mirror, „not much. Spending it with my family in Jersey.“
He sees Gerard bite his lips, his teeth digging in hard, before he suddenly smiles. “That's good.“
“And... and you?“ Frank asks, figuring it is polite to ask as well, even though he dreads the answer. Gerard is pretty private about things, even though everybody involved in the production suspects he's gay, but he has never brought anyone to the studio with him.
Gerard cringes a bit, but he's grinning, as if he's embarrassed. “I'm spending the holidays with my Mom and Dad, too.“
„Are you bringing your boyfriend?“ Frank hears himself ask, and when he realizes what he said he desperately wants to take the red poinsettia on Gerard's dresser and hit the pot over his head. “Or girlfriend?“ he hastens to add.
Gerard snorts out a laugh. “Ah, no. No boyfriend this year. Just me and my parents.“
“Good,“ Frank breathes out, “I mean, that's a pity.“ The poinsettia is looking more and more like the perfect way out of this. Maybe he could knock himself out with the plant. That would certainly help him to shut the fuck up.
He doesn't dare look at Gerard, but out of the corners of his eyes he sees Gerard shrug, his shoulders shifting awkwardly.
He quickly connects the cable to the beltpack and leads it up Gerard's back. He steps around, brushing a bit of Gerard's hair away to settle the earpiece behind his ear, adjusting it. There's a spark when he touches Gerard's earlobe and they both flinch away, Frank hitting his lower back on the dresser behind him.
Gerard laughs nervously, before stepping forward again. His face is red, the tips of his ear practically glowing. Frank feels like his own face is smarting, he's so embarrassed.
They jump again when the door opens and Christian sticks his head in. “Call in 5,“ he says, before he's gone again.
“We'd better get you into your costume,“ Frank murmurs, taking a deep breath and reaching up to adjust the mouthpiece on Gerard's cheek. They both hold extremely still, the smoke from Gerard's lit cigarette curling between them. Usually, Gerard will chatter away, tell him all about his ideas for the next shows, the outrageous costumes he plans to wear, the songs he's working on with the creative team.
Frank is glad when the headset sits correctly and he is able to step away. He reaches for Gerard's tunic and helps him into it, focussing on the task at hand and not on how Gerard's white shirt slips out of his pants and moves upwards when he lifts his arms. Together they manage to get the tunic on without disturbing the perfect fit of the headset.
Gerard takes another drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray and reaching for his green elf hat. He dons it, then takes another look into the mirror, pulling a bit on the strands of his crazy red hair.
“Fine,“ he finally announces, “let's fucking go.“
As Frank leads the way to the stage through the labyrinth of long corridors, stepping carefully over miles and miles of cable, Gerard starts up behind him again. “Fuck, fuck, fuckety fuck! Motherfucker! Motherfuck! Fucking...“
*-*
Even though it's part of his job, Frank loves watching Gerard from the side of the stage. He's in his usual spot next to the sound tech table, newly loaded beltpacks and ersatz headsets neatly organized so he can jump in to replace faulty equipment immediately. He can get these things on Gerard in under 10 seconds if necessary, depending on the costume. There's also a wireless hand mic charged, for when everything else fails.
On stage, Gerard is prancing around in his elf costume, singing a cheery, rocky tune about snowflakes. His voice isn't very winsome, even though he hits every note - he sounds scratchy and raw, a voice that would rather befit the singer of a hard core band. The children love him anyway, eating up every word, squealing and clapping.
Gerard isn't just a kid show host, he's also the creative brain behind his show. Even though there's a whole crew of producers, editors, song writers, costume and set designers behind him, it's really Gerard's vision that drives the show. He regularly comes up with ideas, bringing with him notebooks filled with colorful outfit designs or lyrics. They've had a couple of problems with ultra-conservative groups in the past, because if there's one thing Gerard Way stands for, it's equality and tolerance, and these values thread through every piece of every show they put on.
It's the 20th of December and the Christmas episode today, and Gerard dances around stage in his elf costume, involving his little audience and telling a story about Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer and the troubles he was facing at reindeer school, because he was different.
Frank is a tough guy; he has two full sleeves of tattoos and a pierced lip and he listens to punk music. On Friday nights he likes to go to concerts and mosh until his body screams with pain. He should probably not be totally entranced by a dorky red-haired guy in an elf costume telling stories to little children, but he is.
The Christmas show turns out to be a complete success, just like expected. When the credits start to roll, Frank feels the underlying tension of being attentive all the time slip from his shoulders. He cleans up the tech table, stowing away the equipment in its boxes, and waits for Gerard to come off stage. They have a little ritual - Gerard will always step off stage on the left, and Frank will wait in the wings, a pack of cigarette ready for Gerard to light up when he gets off. Smoking in the wings is actually forbidden, but it's Gerard, and so far he hasn't set anything on fire. Frank takes off Gerard's headset while Gerard smokes, then they will exchange a couple of words and regretfully part ways.
Only today, Gerard doesn't come. Frank waits for 5 minutes, wondering where Gerard is, because he always comes past him, he has to, to get off stage. Another 5 minutes later, Gerard still isn't there, and Frank steps out onto the stage and goes to find him. It's strange to be on stage after a live show - the last of the kids are ushered out of the auditorium by their caretakers, their loud excited chatter echoing off the walls. Several stage hands crawl around on stage, disconnecting equipment, rolling up miles of cable, removing today's set. Frank always feels exposed when he's on stage, even if he's only one of the backstage people who in their black getup never get any attention.
He finally finds Gerard in the far right corner of the stage, half hidden behind a huge monitor box, crouching on the floor, his back to Frank as he fumbles with something. When Frank gets closer, Gerard turns around. His hair is rumpled, his tunic askew, and he flushes deeply when he spots Frank.
“I'm... kind of tangled up,“ he admits, sounding deeply embarrassed, holding up a mess of tangled cables and the snow garlands decorating the Christmas set.
Frank can't help it, he bursts out laughing. „What are you even doing back here?“ he asks, crouching down next to Gerard and reaching for the cable to help him untangle his headset cable from the rest of the mess.
“I kinda had to pee really badly and went off stage right and then when I came back, I didn't realize that my headset had slipped and when I walked by, I got caught in that stupid snow garland and when I tried to get out of it...“ Gerard explains helplessly, and Frank snorts some more, untangling Gerard's cable from the rest.
“You are something else,“ he says, grinning, and Gerard blushes. “There you go.“ He separates the last bit of Gerard's equipment, taking it off him completely, before helping him up from the floor.
“This is really embarrassing,“ Gerard says, not looking at Frank, but brushing a hand on the dusty knees of his green pants.
“Ah, don't worry, you're not the first one to get tangled up in their equipment,“ Frank tries to reassure him, amused and feeling really ridiculously fond.
When Gerard straightens, he bumps his head on something, and they both crane their heads and look up.
“Mistletoe,“ Gerard says, and he sounds kind of weird, kind of disbelieving.
“Oh,“ Frank says, then adds, “uhm, I guess they are all over the set today.“
“Guess so,“ Gerard echoes, and lowers his eyes to look right at Frank.
Frank can feel the heat rise in his face, starting at his throat and creeping upwards. His hands are suddenly sweaty and cold at the same time.
“I think you are supposed to kiss me now.“ Gerard's voice is soft, almost teasing, but with a nervous, breathless quality to it.
Frank feels the butterflies churn in his stomach and he sways a bit on his feet, before he catches himself. He can't really believe this is happening. A mistletoe. Seriously. How cliché.
Gerard is still looking at him, his brown eyes wide and expectant, and Frank wets his lips, before leaning forward, pressing their lips together. Frank only planned to plant a brief kiss on Gerard, but he hasn't expected Gerard's lips to turn out so soft and warm, and he lingers, unable to draw back. Against his lips, Gerard makes a content, humming sound, and then Gerard's fingers dig into Frank's arms, and he pulls him closer.
On a startled gasp, Frank opens his mouth, and Gerard pushes forward, his tongue dipping between Frank's lips. It's Frank's time to groan, and Gerard laughs softly into his mouth.
When they finally break apart, Frank feels like his knees are made of rubber. The world is soft around the edges. In front of him, Gerard wears the most idiotic grin, ever, beaming from one ear to the other. He looks incredibly mischievous in his elf get-up, his pale face flushed, his lips wet and red.
“I always wanted to do this,“ Gerard confesses breathily.
Frank narrows his eyes a bit at him suspiciously. “Did you arrange this?“ he asks, pointing up at the mistletoes still hanging over them, swaying softly.
Gerard glares a bit, the expression ruined by how he's still smiling at the same time. „What? No! You'd really think I'd do that?“
“Uhm... hell, yeah?“ Frank suggests.
“I fucking swear, I didn't plan it,“ Gerard protests. “Although, if I had known it would work out like this....“
He trails off, chewing on his lip as he stares at Frank. “I mean - you like the kissing, right?“
“Yeah,“ Frank says hoarsely, “I like the kissing.“
Gerard beams and pulls him closer, pressing their lips together once more.
When they pull apart this time, both breathing hard, Frank blurts out, “How can you not know I’ve had a giant crush on you since I started working here!“
“How could you not know?!“ Gerard counters, but he's still beaming, looking like the happiest Christmas elf on earth.
Frank shakes his head. “God,“ he murmurs.
“Frankie,“ Gerard says, pawing a bit at Frank's arm, “if you don't mind, let's get off stage now, okay? These pants are really tight.“
Frank's mouth twitches and he slides his hand down Gerard's arm, taking his hand, linking their fingers together.
“Oh, I can help with that,“ he says, pulling Gerard with him, thinking about the solitude of Gerard's dressing room and all the pale skin he desperately wants to taste.
The End