Love Is Gay (Frerard)

4) Who knew Gerard was a nurse?

They were at Lindsey's house. It was very... emo, with white walls adorned in posters of band members and her damn TV shows.  There was a bed, a cabinet and a desk tucked away in the corner, which Frank thought was strange because she literally only owned those three pieces of furniture, but he was kind of dealing with other problems then.

His face was fucking throbbing, and blood was crusted on his chin. Jesus, Frank thought to himself and groaned, hand flying up to his nose and the tissue shoved up his nostril.

Lindsey held the end of the tissue and pulled it out, wincing at the coagulation of the blood that followed the end of the paper. A string of coagulated blood was stuck to the edge and was dangling obscenely until she stuck that motherfucker in the trash can.

"Jesus on a sidecar." Frank moaned. His jaw was hurting like something crawled in there and died.

Gerard stalked over to him and lifted his face and shit, all the gay thoughts that Frank was thinking was unimaginable. But then the fact that he didn't have a dick yet stopped him and he thought to himself, would I bottom? And then he quickly rid himself of the notion because his dignity is sacred.

"Close your eyes." Ordered Gerard.

Frank cocked an eyebrow at him. Ah, shit. Whatever. He closed his eyes and felt the damp coldness of a towel on his eyelids and jaw. It was a soothing feeling, with something gooey and thick leaving trails behind it.

"What the hell did you put on my face?" Frank asked when he opened his eyes again. He reached up to feel it and Gerard swatted his hand away, yes, he swatted his hand away from his face. He's lucky he's so good looking.

"That was ointment to keep the swelling down and so that your face doesn't explode in your sleep." Gerard sat down in front of Frank on the desk.

"Hm. Okay."

Gerard beamed at him, then suddenly his expression changed. "Edgar was being an ass and said you don't have a dick. Is that true?"

Frank sighed. Why does this always fucking come up in conversations? I mean it's really great people like to talk about Frank's non existent dick but still, man.

"Yes," he sighed, running a hand over his face and falling back into the bed. "But really, why is he so obsessed with whether or not I have a dick?"

Lindsey seemed to suddenly appear at the doorway. When did she leave? Eh, hell if I know.

She sat with Frank on her bed and lay in his stomach. "Maybe he just wants to know because he's got a bet."

"Because he's a demon." Gerard stated.

"A demon? Then we should have a salt circle here." Lindsey's face lit up with the idea of a demon in Edgar.

Frank rolled his eyes. "You got that from Supernatural."

"It's a great show. And I call being Sam."

Gerard rocketed up as fast as he could. "Then I call being Dean because I'm awesome."

"What, then who the hell am I?!" Frank sat up and stared Gerard down.

"You can be Bobby because you're the helpful sidekick." Pitched Lindsey. Thanks, dude. That makes me feel better.

Frank felt like the third wheel.

That's not a good feeling.

"Can I be the impala?" He laughed.

Lindsey punched his shoulder. "You just wanna be called baby."

"Right you are."

"You just want us to ride you, Frank."

Lindsey threw a pillow at them and started to laugh, the boys laughing after her until fuck, they were messes.

"So, friends?" Frank asked.

"Eh, as long as you're not a rapist I guess so." Gerard smiled.

And that's when Frank realized what a nice smile Gerard had. It made his face light up and his eyes sparkle. It make his entire demeanor look better.

And Frank was hopelessly in love with it.

Or in Frank's words, "Frank was fucking falling hard man, hard as balls, and that's really damn hard. Fuck."

Feelings.