Doing just fine
Title: Doing just fine
Author: alles_luege
Pairing: Frank/Bob
Rating: PG -13
Summary: Frank gets a little too exited in the moshpit, Gerard gets annoyed and Bob...Bob tries to figure things out, or maybe he's waiting for Frank to figure things out.
“But you’re not a fucking sane person!“ Gerard rages on. He has been at it for good half an hour now.
Warning(s): kissing
Author’s Notes: For dandygrrrl , who wanted some Bob/Frank, hurt/comfort thing. I hope you will like it. Also thanks to figilio_vampiri this story is so much better.
Word Count: 792
Beta: figilio_vampiri
Disclaimer: Don’t know, don’t own, not real.
~+~
So things got a bit out of hand. That is the simple truth, it's not like he wanted it to happen. Who the fuck would? Exactly. No one in their right minds.
“But you’re not a fucking sane person!“ Gerard rages on. He has been at it for good half an hour now. It's not like Frank was looking at the watch or something, because he wanted to distract himself from Gerard's spiel. (Also, it's not like he hadn't heard that spiel about him being stupid and doing dangerous things already. Like a million times.) Mikey just sits in the corner of the dressing room texting on his phone, possibly to Alica or Pete, who knows these days? He is nodding in places. It's a bit creepy how he knows exactly when he has to nod or say a word.
“Are you even listening?” Gerard asks, turning to look at Frank, waving his hand in that way he has when he is annoyed.
“Yes, I am. It's not like I fucking wanted it to happen or something.” He answers and Gerard sighs.
Mikey looks up from his sidekick. “Bob will be so fucking pissed at you...” he says and Frank closes his eyes. Of course he didn't even think about Bob for one second. Might be the pain, or the painkillers. Might be that he is quite good at pushing this stuff aside, when he doesn't want to think of it.
“Shit,” he says. And Mikey nods. That fucker.
~+~
So here is what happened. They went out, just because and there was this gig of this no name band and they thought, why the fuck not? And Frank was (or wasn't) thinking a bit further than that. So he got into the fucking moshpit, because that's what Frank does when he has a good day. Things got a bit rough and he landed first on his ass and then someone stepped on him. And now he is in some crappy dressing room and eating painkillers like they're candy. And everything hurts, especially his rips, which are totally bruised.
And yeah, Bob will be so pissed at him for doing it again...
~+~
“So...” Frank says, and Bob gives him a look. “Look, it's not like I'm doing it on purpose...things just happen.” Frank says, Bob crosses his arms in front of his chest. Right. “I'm sorry-” he tries again.
“Fuck you! It's bad enough you do this shit on stage,” Bob says. Frank shifts from his right foot to the left and winces. Yeah...bruised. “You've seen a doctor?” Bob asks, a bit concerned, but he looks still stern and pissed off.
“Yeah...just bruises, I can totally play...”
“Thank god you don't have to.” Bob says.
“Bob...”
“Shut the fuck up, and go to bed,” Bob cuts him off. Okay. So Bob is really pissed at him. It might be because he just had this really bad case of cold a few weeks back...or that he strained his wrist two months ago while jumping from a tree or...yeah. Right.
~+~
“I swear, sometimes I think you are doing this on purpose.” Bob says, settling on the chair near Frank's bed, so they can play Mario Cart together.
“I don't...” Frank answers, but if he's honest with himself, he isn't sure. It might be that he enjoys it a little bit too much how Bob is always there for him. And tries to make him feel better and shit like that. Bob is like his personal saviour. Even if Frank would never admit it out loud.
“Whatever,” Bob says. And maybe Bob had had enough of his shit for real now.
“Hey...are you mad at me?” Frank asks, not looking at him.
“I'm fucking furious.”
“Oh...you know you don't have to stay with me and like look after me and shit...it's just bruised rips.” Frank says.
“Where else should I go?” Bob asks.
“Gerard's, Mikey's, Ray's. A fucking hotel! I don't know!” Frank answers, annoyed, but he doesn't know with whom he is annoyed.
“Shut the fuck up, I'm where I need to be.”
“You don't need to be here. It's not your duty to look after me!” Frank answers.
“Frank! For fuck's sake! I want to be here!” Bob nearly shouts and as Frank looks over at him, he is blushing. Well, it's what you could call a blush...because it's Bob and Bob doesn't do blushing.
“Oh...” Frank says. And Bob nods. “Oh! So you mean you...” Frank says full of glee.
“Shut up, god!” Bob mutters.
“Make me.”
And Bob does.
~end~
Author: alles_luege
Pairing: Frank/Bob
Rating: PG -13
Summary: Frank gets a little too exited in the moshpit, Gerard gets annoyed and Bob...Bob tries to figure things out, or maybe he's waiting for Frank to figure things out.
“But you’re not a fucking sane person!“ Gerard rages on. He has been at it for good half an hour now.
Warning(s): kissing
Author’s Notes: For dandygrrrl , who wanted some Bob/Frank, hurt/comfort thing. I hope you will like it. Also thanks to figilio_vampiri this story is so much better.
Word Count: 792
Beta: figilio_vampiri
Disclaimer: Don’t know, don’t own, not real.
~+~
So things got a bit out of hand. That is the simple truth, it's not like he wanted it to happen. Who the fuck would? Exactly. No one in their right minds.
“But you’re not a fucking sane person!“ Gerard rages on. He has been at it for good half an hour now. It's not like Frank was looking at the watch or something, because he wanted to distract himself from Gerard's spiel. (Also, it's not like he hadn't heard that spiel about him being stupid and doing dangerous things already. Like a million times.) Mikey just sits in the corner of the dressing room texting on his phone, possibly to Alica or Pete, who knows these days? He is nodding in places. It's a bit creepy how he knows exactly when he has to nod or say a word.
“Are you even listening?” Gerard asks, turning to look at Frank, waving his hand in that way he has when he is annoyed.
“Yes, I am. It's not like I fucking wanted it to happen or something.” He answers and Gerard sighs.
Mikey looks up from his sidekick. “Bob will be so fucking pissed at you...” he says and Frank closes his eyes. Of course he didn't even think about Bob for one second. Might be the pain, or the painkillers. Might be that he is quite good at pushing this stuff aside, when he doesn't want to think of it.
“Shit,” he says. And Mikey nods. That fucker.
~+~
So here is what happened. They went out, just because and there was this gig of this no name band and they thought, why the fuck not? And Frank was (or wasn't) thinking a bit further than that. So he got into the fucking moshpit, because that's what Frank does when he has a good day. Things got a bit rough and he landed first on his ass and then someone stepped on him. And now he is in some crappy dressing room and eating painkillers like they're candy. And everything hurts, especially his rips, which are totally bruised.
And yeah, Bob will be so pissed at him for doing it again...
~+~
“So...” Frank says, and Bob gives him a look. “Look, it's not like I'm doing it on purpose...things just happen.” Frank says, Bob crosses his arms in front of his chest. Right. “I'm sorry-” he tries again.
“Fuck you! It's bad enough you do this shit on stage,” Bob says. Frank shifts from his right foot to the left and winces. Yeah...bruised. “You've seen a doctor?” Bob asks, a bit concerned, but he looks still stern and pissed off.
“Yeah...just bruises, I can totally play...”
“Thank god you don't have to.” Bob says.
“Bob...”
“Shut the fuck up, and go to bed,” Bob cuts him off. Okay. So Bob is really pissed at him. It might be because he just had this really bad case of cold a few weeks back...or that he strained his wrist two months ago while jumping from a tree or...yeah. Right.
~+~
“I swear, sometimes I think you are doing this on purpose.” Bob says, settling on the chair near Frank's bed, so they can play Mario Cart together.
“I don't...” Frank answers, but if he's honest with himself, he isn't sure. It might be that he enjoys it a little bit too much how Bob is always there for him. And tries to make him feel better and shit like that. Bob is like his personal saviour. Even if Frank would never admit it out loud.
“Whatever,” Bob says. And maybe Bob had had enough of his shit for real now.
“Hey...are you mad at me?” Frank asks, not looking at him.
“I'm fucking furious.”
“Oh...you know you don't have to stay with me and like look after me and shit...it's just bruised rips.” Frank says.
“Where else should I go?” Bob asks.
“Gerard's, Mikey's, Ray's. A fucking hotel! I don't know!” Frank answers, annoyed, but he doesn't know with whom he is annoyed.
“Shut the fuck up, I'm where I need to be.”
“You don't need to be here. It's not your duty to look after me!” Frank answers.
“Frank! For fuck's sake! I want to be here!” Bob nearly shouts and as Frank looks over at him, he is blushing. Well, it's what you could call a blush...because it's Bob and Bob doesn't do blushing.
“Oh...” Frank says. And Bob nods. “Oh! So you mean you...” Frank says full of glee.
“Shut up, god!” Bob mutters.
“Make me.”
And Bob does.
~end~