frerard one shots | ✔️

day 26 ~ interacting with family

"Gee!" I heard Frank calling from our bedroom and looked at the clock. We had around two hours until we had to leave, and he was already getting ready. I put down my coffee and shook my head, chuckling to myself as I made my way to our bedroom.

"Baby, you're overthinking this, I promise you," I said, turning the handle and pushing open the door. "You're--oh my god," I breathed, drinking in the sight of him.

He was dressed in only boxers and standing facing away from the mirror with his hands crossed over his tattooed chest. I hadn't seen him this naked in a few days, and I felt my stomach swirl with something warm as my lips parted a little.

"What?" he asked. "Are you seriously gonna go all horny-Gerard on me right now? You're used to seeing me naked out of context, get over it. I need help deciding what to wear."

"I think you look best without anything on, but that's just me," I mumbled, walking closer to him and laying my hand on the small of his back. I felt his tense muscles relax under my touch as he leant back into my chest. I let my arms wrap around his waist and smiled as I felt his head lay on my shoulder, lolling backwards lazily.

"Gee," he groaned. "You need to help me."

"Okay, alright, I'll help you... What do you need help with?"

He sighed. "You're not gonna be any help."

"What? Why not?"

He giggled, finally relaxing a little bit and laying his hands over mine. "Because I already told you what I need help with."

"Right! Wear whatever you want. Like a band shirt and jeans. They said casual and that's what I'm wearing, so..."

He shook his head, straightening up. "That's a bad first impression. I'll wear a Black Flag shirt, and they'll buy an album and be like 'what the fuck is my son's boyfriend listening to? Why is my son dating him?' They'll hate me."

I pressed my lips to the back of his neck and hummed lowly, making him shiver.

"Gee," he whispered. "Stop it. I promise I'll fuck you when we get home."

"How about right now?"

"No. We need to get ready, sugar," he said, disapproval lacing through his voice, so I kissed his neck chastely again and rested my chin on his shoulder.

"Okay, fine. Wear jeans and a plain black shirt and a leather jacket or something," I offered, but he shook his head.

"I'd be stealing your style."

"You could also steal one of my leather jackets," I purred, and he hummed.

"I'd really like that, but what would you wear? Yeah, the same thing."

"You're... you're right," I trailed off. "What about your jean jacket?"

He smiled. "I could wear my black and white striped shirt and my jean jacket on top of it, and black jeans, and then it'd match, but they'd see my patches and pins."

"Your pins are cute. I like them. The thing here is you're trying to please them, but you're trying to change yourself to what you'd think they'd be pleased by when in reality, the only thing they'd be pleased with is if you express yourself. Besides, it isn't as though I don't listen to Black Flag. I was going to wear my Misfits shirt and a leather jacket and jeans. Wear whatever makes you feel like you, baby."

He sighed, closing his eyes. "Are you absolutely sure they won't be offended?"

"Listen, babe," I said, kissing his shoulder softly. "You're absolutely fine. They're going to be wearing basically the same thing, except less emo, so you're fine, I promise you."