fic: here comes the summer
i felt like posting fic, so i uh, am posting fic. now. :/ this one's just a silly warped tour '05 ficlet that i wrote to greenjelloforst some time ago. but i did edit it pretty heavily, so there's that. um. sometimes you just want to write otp fluff?
here comes the summer
frank/gerard, pg, 1030 words.
prompt: sunglasses, also inspired by march 31, 2007
Frank’s sucking on a popsicle as he slumps down next to Gerard on the grass. It’s strawberry and delicious and Mikey’s eyeing at it enviously. Frank’s on a mission to find out what the riddle on the stick says, so he keeps up a steady suckle, completely ignoring Mikey’s stare. That guy could make rocks nervous with his gaze, so it’s best to just not pay attention at all.
It's a hot day in June, the kind that should be spent just like this, lying on the ground doing nothing while enjoying every moment of it. Even Gerard’s taken off his hoodie and it's bundled up under his head. Frank's kind of weirded out about the hint of tan that tries to make an appearance on Gerard's forearms.
"Dude," Mikey says, squinting up at Frank. He's toying with the lid of his sidekick, probably waiting for a new message from Pete. They’re fucking obvious, those two. “Where’d you get that?”
Frank shrugs, and his mouth stretches into a self-satisfied smile, lips so cold they're burning. "Worm," he says simply before he pulls a third of the popsicle into his mouth and makes a show of jacking it between his lips.
Gerard makes a small noise in the back of his throat that he quickly morphs into a laugh. Frank can barely see his face from behind his huge black sunglasses, but he thinks there’s a good chance it might be flushed. "He's wrapped the whole crew -- no, scratch that -- the whole tour -- around his little finger. Haven't you Frank?"
"Whatever," Frank says airily, waves his popsicle around. He almost drops a large clump on Gerard's face before he rescues it into his mouth on the last possible moment. "Mmm, sho good," he moans, overdoing it a little, and smiles wide when Mikey shudders and makes a face.
"Jesus H, Frank," Mikey complains when Frank moans again, and okay, Frank can admit that he’s being a little… lewd. It’s just that nothing beats messing around with the Ways. Gerard snorts a little too loudly and digs his finger behind his sunglasses, scrubbing his eyeball so hard that Frank wouldn’t be surprised if he accidentally popped it out of the socket, or like, got a heart attack or fainted. Totally plausible; he read about it somewhere.
Mikey perks up when his cell phone starts vibrating, and he opens the lid with a shadow of a smile. "It's Pete," he says unnecessarily as he pulls himself up from the ground and brushes off his skinny jeans.
"I guess I'll see you at sound check," he says to Gerard with a half-wave, and "Behave," to Frank before he jogs out of sight. Frank pokes his tongue out at Mikey's retreating back, then curves it up to examine how red the popsicle’s made it. He’s fascinated for a good half a minute before his eyes start to hurt and he has to press his thumb into the hollow above his left eye.
Gerard takes his finger out of his own eye. His head’s turned in the direction Mikey ran off to. "I still don't really know what to think about those two," he says out of the blue, and okay, apart from annoying Gerard with stupid singsonging (Mikey and Peet, sitting in a tree!), Frank doesn't really know what to think either, so he shrugs and looks at Gerard with attempted thoughtfulness. Not everything in life has to make sense.
"Do you really have to think about it so much?" he asks as he drops down on his back next to Gerard, their shoulders touch and Frank digs his finger into the curve of Gerard’s elbow. He sucks the rest of his popsicle into his mouth, biting gently on melting ice until the stick’s the only thing that's left.
The riddle says ‘HOW DO YOU KEEP A FISH FROM SMELLING?’ Frank frowns and turns the stick around, reads, ‘BY COVERING ITS NOSE.’ He snorts at it and palms hard at his sunbrushed face. His cheeks have that tingle that suggests a possible burn. He’ll have to sweet talk Worm into buying some sunblock the next time they’re in a truckstop.
"I think," he continues with a shitty little grin, throwing the stick behind his head and licking his lips, "I think you should just focus your energy on something more interesting. I hear your rhythm guitarist's got a pretty sweet ass and a summer-long supply to strawberry popsicles." And okay, he's pushing it a little, he realizes now that he's said it, but the wide smile that spreads on Gerard's face is pretty damn reassuring.
"Oh yeah?" Gerard asks slyly, sitting up a little. "Where'd you hear that?"
Frank shrugs. He reaches up to tug Gerard's glasses from his face and puts them on himself. "Around." He makes a rotating move with his wrist and hears the bone crack with relief like it had been waiting to do that for days.
"Huh," Gerard says. He curls his fist around a tuft of crisp grass but lets go of it before he can yank it from the baked ground. "Must be true then."
Frank smiles and agrees. He thinks if the sugar’s maybe gone into his head because he’s stupid and giddy and a little sleepy, too.
He squirms on the grass until he’s gotten Gerard’s hoodie under his head like a pillow, and he isn’t lying on lumpy ground. He closes his eyes behind the glasses, hooks his heel over Gerard's ankle just making sure Gerard doesn't go wandering around when he's about to take a nap.
He sighs and grins when Gerard settles next to him, presses his nose into the ball of Gerard’s shoulder, and blows a raspberry against the skin to get Gerard to make more of those indignant noises that he's come to like so much.
He yawns wide and thinks about Warped Tour as a distant thrum of bass guitar starts drifting into his ears. Gerard digs his jaw into Frank’s collarbone, and if Frank turns his head a little to the side, his lips will press against Gerard’s forehead, so effortlessly that he might have to try it out real soon.
here comes the summer
frank/gerard, pg, 1030 words.
prompt: sunglasses, also inspired by march 31, 2007
Frank’s sucking on a popsicle as he slumps down next to Gerard on the grass. It’s strawberry and delicious and Mikey’s eyeing at it enviously. Frank’s on a mission to find out what the riddle on the stick says, so he keeps up a steady suckle, completely ignoring Mikey’s stare. That guy could make rocks nervous with his gaze, so it’s best to just not pay attention at all.
It's a hot day in June, the kind that should be spent just like this, lying on the ground doing nothing while enjoying every moment of it. Even Gerard’s taken off his hoodie and it's bundled up under his head. Frank's kind of weirded out about the hint of tan that tries to make an appearance on Gerard's forearms.
"Dude," Mikey says, squinting up at Frank. He's toying with the lid of his sidekick, probably waiting for a new message from Pete. They’re fucking obvious, those two. “Where’d you get that?”
Frank shrugs, and his mouth stretches into a self-satisfied smile, lips so cold they're burning. "Worm," he says simply before he pulls a third of the popsicle into his mouth and makes a show of jacking it between his lips.
Gerard makes a small noise in the back of his throat that he quickly morphs into a laugh. Frank can barely see his face from behind his huge black sunglasses, but he thinks there’s a good chance it might be flushed. "He's wrapped the whole crew -- no, scratch that -- the whole tour -- around his little finger. Haven't you Frank?"
"Whatever," Frank says airily, waves his popsicle around. He almost drops a large clump on Gerard's face before he rescues it into his mouth on the last possible moment. "Mmm, sho good," he moans, overdoing it a little, and smiles wide when Mikey shudders and makes a face.
"Jesus H, Frank," Mikey complains when Frank moans again, and okay, Frank can admit that he’s being a little… lewd. It’s just that nothing beats messing around with the Ways. Gerard snorts a little too loudly and digs his finger behind his sunglasses, scrubbing his eyeball so hard that Frank wouldn’t be surprised if he accidentally popped it out of the socket, or like, got a heart attack or fainted. Totally plausible; he read about it somewhere.
Mikey perks up when his cell phone starts vibrating, and he opens the lid with a shadow of a smile. "It's Pete," he says unnecessarily as he pulls himself up from the ground and brushes off his skinny jeans.
"I guess I'll see you at sound check," he says to Gerard with a half-wave, and "Behave," to Frank before he jogs out of sight. Frank pokes his tongue out at Mikey's retreating back, then curves it up to examine how red the popsicle’s made it. He’s fascinated for a good half a minute before his eyes start to hurt and he has to press his thumb into the hollow above his left eye.
Gerard takes his finger out of his own eye. His head’s turned in the direction Mikey ran off to. "I still don't really know what to think about those two," he says out of the blue, and okay, apart from annoying Gerard with stupid singsonging (Mikey and Peet, sitting in a tree!), Frank doesn't really know what to think either, so he shrugs and looks at Gerard with attempted thoughtfulness. Not everything in life has to make sense.
"Do you really have to think about it so much?" he asks as he drops down on his back next to Gerard, their shoulders touch and Frank digs his finger into the curve of Gerard’s elbow. He sucks the rest of his popsicle into his mouth, biting gently on melting ice until the stick’s the only thing that's left.
The riddle says ‘HOW DO YOU KEEP A FISH FROM SMELLING?’ Frank frowns and turns the stick around, reads, ‘BY COVERING ITS NOSE.’ He snorts at it and palms hard at his sunbrushed face. His cheeks have that tingle that suggests a possible burn. He’ll have to sweet talk Worm into buying some sunblock the next time they’re in a truckstop.
"I think," he continues with a shitty little grin, throwing the stick behind his head and licking his lips, "I think you should just focus your energy on something more interesting. I hear your rhythm guitarist's got a pretty sweet ass and a summer-long supply to strawberry popsicles." And okay, he's pushing it a little, he realizes now that he's said it, but the wide smile that spreads on Gerard's face is pretty damn reassuring.
"Oh yeah?" Gerard asks slyly, sitting up a little. "Where'd you hear that?"
Frank shrugs. He reaches up to tug Gerard's glasses from his face and puts them on himself. "Around." He makes a rotating move with his wrist and hears the bone crack with relief like it had been waiting to do that for days.
"Huh," Gerard says. He curls his fist around a tuft of crisp grass but lets go of it before he can yank it from the baked ground. "Must be true then."
Frank smiles and agrees. He thinks if the sugar’s maybe gone into his head because he’s stupid and giddy and a little sleepy, too.
He squirms on the grass until he’s gotten Gerard’s hoodie under his head like a pillow, and he isn’t lying on lumpy ground. He closes his eyes behind the glasses, hooks his heel over Gerard's ankle just making sure Gerard doesn't go wandering around when he's about to take a nap.
He sighs and grins when Gerard settles next to him, presses his nose into the ball of Gerard’s shoulder, and blows a raspberry against the skin to get Gerard to make more of those indignant noises that he's come to like so much.
He yawns wide and thinks about Warped Tour as a distant thrum of bass guitar starts drifting into his ears. Gerard digs his jaw into Frank’s collarbone, and if Frank turns his head a little to the side, his lips will press against Gerard’s forehead, so effortlessly that he might have to try it out real soon.