Fic: Vacuum
title: Vacuum
pairing: Frank/Gerard
rating: PG-13 for cursing
words: 980+
summary: Gerard tries to vacuum.
a/n: for fleurdeliser, who prompted me with "vacuum", because she has some kind of obsession. :P super short little domestic fic.
“It broke,” Gerard said in a small, shocked voice which nonetheless carried into the next room.
Frank stepped in and looked down at the floor. “You didn’t vacuum? My mom’s gonna be here in-”
“It broke,” Gerard said again.
“It didn’t break, you just have to turn the little thingy on the-”
“I did! And it broke, trust me. I know how to work a fucking vacuum.”
“News to me!” Frank cried. “I gave you one thing to do, and I even picked everything up off the floor for you, and you fucking break the vacuum cleaner!”
“Don’t yell at me!” Gerard shouted back. “It fucking broke, Frank.”
“Fuck,” Frank replied succinctly. “I’ll fucking fix it.”
He dropped to his knees as angrily as he could mange and shuffled forward, ass in the air, to peer at the vacuum. Gerard grabbed the handle and clicked the button to turn it on, but nothing happened.
“Is it plugged in?” Frank taunted.
“Yes,” Gerard hissed. “I checked four times.”
“Fuck. Turn it over.”
Gerard flipped the vacuum over so Frank could look at the rollers. He flicked them with one finger and they spun easily.
“Is that good?”
“Uh…”
“You have no fucking idea, do you?” Gerard asked, chuckling. He dropped to his knees beside Frank.
“Shut up, my dad used to do this all the time. They’re all basically the same on the inside,” Frank mumbled. “I need a screwdriver. The, uh, the ‘X’ one.”
“Well, they were probably all the same fifty years ago…”
“Do I look fifty to you?” Frank snapped. Gerard didn’t answer, his lips pressed tightly together to contain a smile. “Fuck you, I’m still not shaving.”
Gerard shrugged and went off to find a screwdriver. He brought back three, plus a bottle opener and a kitchen knife.
“What do you want me to do,” Frank said when he saw the tools, “stab it to death? You already killed it.”
“So are you going to fix it or what?”
Frank grabbed a screwdriver and started dismantling the vacuum cleaner with particular vehemence. Gerard propped his chin on his hand and cocked his head to watch. When Frank had it all in pieces, he asked, “What now, genius?”
“Uh…” Frank replied. “No, shut up, I can fix it, shut up. Umm…”
“Your mom’s going to be here soon.”
“Shut up, Gerard.” He poked at a few things, but couldn’t make sense of the pieces.
“You don’t know how to put it back together, do you?” Gerard asked.
“Maybe it’s a problem with the bag!” Frank suddenly cried.
“I thought it was bag-less?”
“Well, that must be why you’ve never changed the fucking bag…”
Frank poked around in the bowels of the vacuum until he hit something squishy. “I think this-” he began, and poked a little harder. The screwdriver punctured the bag with a distinctive popping noise and Frank froze.
“What’d you do?” Gerard asked.
“Oh, shit,” Frank groaned.
“Here, wait, wait, wait,” Gerard said quickly, pushing himself to his feet. “Lemme get-” He lifted up the vacuum, ignoring Frank’s cry of “No, don’t!” and the bag exploded in a cloud of black dust, getting all over Frank’s face, Gerard’s clothes, and most importantly, the floor.
“Gerard!” Frank shouted.
“You were the one who-”
Gerard was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. They looked at each other in horror, Frank’s eyes wide and bright amidst the black smudges all over his face.
“Hide it!” Frank whispered urgently.
“We can’t hide the fucking floor!”
Frank wiped his face but only made the mess worse. “Ah, fuck,” he said. “Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.”
“Fucking shut up and fucking do something,” Gerard hissed.
“Answer the fucking door and fucking distract her.”
“She’s your fucking mother.”
“I have this shit all over my fucking face! I swear to god, Gerard-”
“We need a rug!” Gerard said in a flash of inspiration. “You go clean up and I’ll find a rug, and you can keep her distracted until I cover up the mess.”
“Oh, this is a great idea,” Frank grumbled. “Where are you going to get a fucking rug? It’s on the carpet, anyway; who puts rugs on the fucking carpet?”
“We do, apparently. Go.”
Gerard shooed him towards the bathroom and Frank began to scrub furiously at his face. The doorbell rang again, and they heard Frank’s mom calling their names.
“Shit!” Frank called to Gerard in a stage whisper.
“Go, go, go!” Gerard called back.
Frank’s skin still wasn’t its normal color and his scraggly beard was more black than brown, but he threw down the ratty washcloth in defeat and ran to answer the door with a giant fake smile. His mother hugged and kissed him, tugged his hair and teased him about how long it was getting, and then asked about Gerard.
“He’s, uh…” Frank stalled awkwardly.
“I’m great!” Gerard said, coming up behind Frank. “How are you?”
Gerard was wearing a clean(er) pair of jeans, but he apparently thought that the toxic black dust wasn’t visible on a black shirt.
“Did you…” Frank asked with a subtle jerk of his head and raised eyebrows.
“Yeah, kinda,” Gerard whispered, giving Frank a slight shrug.
Frank rolled his eyes. “Come on in, Mom.”
They walked into the kitchen, avoiding the destroyed living room, and tried to hold a conversation without being too awkward. Frank’s mother looked past them through the hall and sighed. Frank turned around and saw the comforter from their bed spread out over the floor.
He punched Gerard’s arm. “Gerard!”
“Oh, boys.”
“I couldn’t find anything,” Gerard mumbled.
“You also didn’t move the fuck-the vacuum cleaner,” Frank replied, rolling his eyes. “If you ruined that comforter…”
“It’ll be fine!”
“Frankie, honey. Gerard. Stop, both of you,” Frank’s mom said, touching their arms. “I’ll help you clean it up.”
fin.
pairing: Frank/Gerard
rating: PG-13 for cursing
words: 980+
summary: Gerard tries to vacuum.
a/n: for fleurdeliser, who prompted me with "vacuum", because she has some kind of obsession. :P super short little domestic fic.
“It broke,” Gerard said in a small, shocked voice which nonetheless carried into the next room.
Frank stepped in and looked down at the floor. “You didn’t vacuum? My mom’s gonna be here in-”
“It broke,” Gerard said again.
“It didn’t break, you just have to turn the little thingy on the-”
“I did! And it broke, trust me. I know how to work a fucking vacuum.”
“News to me!” Frank cried. “I gave you one thing to do, and I even picked everything up off the floor for you, and you fucking break the vacuum cleaner!”
“Don’t yell at me!” Gerard shouted back. “It fucking broke, Frank.”
“Fuck,” Frank replied succinctly. “I’ll fucking fix it.”
He dropped to his knees as angrily as he could mange and shuffled forward, ass in the air, to peer at the vacuum. Gerard grabbed the handle and clicked the button to turn it on, but nothing happened.
“Is it plugged in?” Frank taunted.
“Yes,” Gerard hissed. “I checked four times.”
“Fuck. Turn it over.”
Gerard flipped the vacuum over so Frank could look at the rollers. He flicked them with one finger and they spun easily.
“Is that good?”
“Uh…”
“You have no fucking idea, do you?” Gerard asked, chuckling. He dropped to his knees beside Frank.
“Shut up, my dad used to do this all the time. They’re all basically the same on the inside,” Frank mumbled. “I need a screwdriver. The, uh, the ‘X’ one.”
“Well, they were probably all the same fifty years ago…”
“Do I look fifty to you?” Frank snapped. Gerard didn’t answer, his lips pressed tightly together to contain a smile. “Fuck you, I’m still not shaving.”
Gerard shrugged and went off to find a screwdriver. He brought back three, plus a bottle opener and a kitchen knife.
“What do you want me to do,” Frank said when he saw the tools, “stab it to death? You already killed it.”
“So are you going to fix it or what?”
Frank grabbed a screwdriver and started dismantling the vacuum cleaner with particular vehemence. Gerard propped his chin on his hand and cocked his head to watch. When Frank had it all in pieces, he asked, “What now, genius?”
“Uh…” Frank replied. “No, shut up, I can fix it, shut up. Umm…”
“Your mom’s going to be here soon.”
“Shut up, Gerard.” He poked at a few things, but couldn’t make sense of the pieces.
“You don’t know how to put it back together, do you?” Gerard asked.
“Maybe it’s a problem with the bag!” Frank suddenly cried.
“I thought it was bag-less?”
“Well, that must be why you’ve never changed the fucking bag…”
Frank poked around in the bowels of the vacuum until he hit something squishy. “I think this-” he began, and poked a little harder. The screwdriver punctured the bag with a distinctive popping noise and Frank froze.
“What’d you do?” Gerard asked.
“Oh, shit,” Frank groaned.
“Here, wait, wait, wait,” Gerard said quickly, pushing himself to his feet. “Lemme get-” He lifted up the vacuum, ignoring Frank’s cry of “No, don’t!” and the bag exploded in a cloud of black dust, getting all over Frank’s face, Gerard’s clothes, and most importantly, the floor.
“Gerard!” Frank shouted.
“You were the one who-”
Gerard was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. They looked at each other in horror, Frank’s eyes wide and bright amidst the black smudges all over his face.
“Hide it!” Frank whispered urgently.
“We can’t hide the fucking floor!”
Frank wiped his face but only made the mess worse. “Ah, fuck,” he said. “Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.”
“Fucking shut up and fucking do something,” Gerard hissed.
“Answer the fucking door and fucking distract her.”
“She’s your fucking mother.”
“I have this shit all over my fucking face! I swear to god, Gerard-”
“We need a rug!” Gerard said in a flash of inspiration. “You go clean up and I’ll find a rug, and you can keep her distracted until I cover up the mess.”
“Oh, this is a great idea,” Frank grumbled. “Where are you going to get a fucking rug? It’s on the carpet, anyway; who puts rugs on the fucking carpet?”
“We do, apparently. Go.”
Gerard shooed him towards the bathroom and Frank began to scrub furiously at his face. The doorbell rang again, and they heard Frank’s mom calling their names.
“Shit!” Frank called to Gerard in a stage whisper.
“Go, go, go!” Gerard called back.
Frank’s skin still wasn’t its normal color and his scraggly beard was more black than brown, but he threw down the ratty washcloth in defeat and ran to answer the door with a giant fake smile. His mother hugged and kissed him, tugged his hair and teased him about how long it was getting, and then asked about Gerard.
“He’s, uh…” Frank stalled awkwardly.
“I’m great!” Gerard said, coming up behind Frank. “How are you?”
Gerard was wearing a clean(er) pair of jeans, but he apparently thought that the toxic black dust wasn’t visible on a black shirt.
“Did you…” Frank asked with a subtle jerk of his head and raised eyebrows.
“Yeah, kinda,” Gerard whispered, giving Frank a slight shrug.
Frank rolled his eyes. “Come on in, Mom.”
They walked into the kitchen, avoiding the destroyed living room, and tried to hold a conversation without being too awkward. Frank’s mother looked past them through the hall and sighed. Frank turned around and saw the comforter from their bed spread out over the floor.
He punched Gerard’s arm. “Gerard!”
“Oh, boys.”
“I couldn’t find anything,” Gerard mumbled.
“You also didn’t move the fuck-the vacuum cleaner,” Frank replied, rolling his eyes. “If you ruined that comforter…”
“It’ll be fine!”
“Frankie, honey. Gerard. Stop, both of you,” Frank’s mom said, touching their arms. “I’ll help you clean it up.”
fin.