We all agree that my smut was terrible and I need to make up for it with something actually planned and edited and not written at 4am while on painkillers.
Over 6000 words wtf is happening to me
Trigger Warning: Strong homophobia. Mild panic attack. Near vomiting.
(disclaimer, nobody is beaten or harmed. It's only words/arguing) I'm sorry
Gerard's eyes fluttered open. He tried to sit up, but pain swelled through his back and down to his ass. He groaned and flopped back to the bed, considering going back to sleep.
He realized he was alone in bed and turned his head to the door. "Frank?" He called. Receiving silence, he forced himself to sit up, noticing that it wasn't raining either.
Wearing a constant grimace, he stood up and got his jeans on. He couldn't find his shirt, but at this point he didn't really care if he had one on anyway.
He stretched out, it relieved some of the pain, but considering he hadn't really bottomed in almost a year, and -like an idiot- decided Frank should totally fuck him unprepped last night, he was in need of some getting used to.
And a fucking Tylenol.
He looked around, the balcony door was open, the room smelled of rain and mud, in the best way. He could hear a car drive by on the wet street below.
He stood and walked to the mirror, looking at himself and tilting his head. He ran his hands over his glowing red hair and smiled. Frank was right, it does look good.
He made his way downstairs looking for Frank. The sweet smell of baked chocolate reached his nose, and he heard a lot of moving around from the kitchen.
He half limped to the kitchen doorway, leaning his shoulder on the wall for support. It didn't hurt that bad, but Gerard liked to baby himself.
Frank danced around the kitchen, aggressively lip syncing to whatever was blasting through his earbuds, while he made cookies. In Gerard's shirt.
"Hey, cutie." Gerard said loudly, startling Frank's attention.
"Fuck-" Frank jumped back, literally jumped, his feet went into the air and he crashed into the counter behind him, projectile dropping the spatula in his hand at the bowl of dough, making Gerard raise his eyebrows at him in amusement.
"Hey." Frank said, taking off his earbuds. "Hi."
"Hey. Hi." Gerard echoed.
"You, uh, you want cookies?"
"Of course." Gerard said, standing up straight and wincing at the slight pain. "Do you have Tylenol? Or ibuprofen?"
"Both." Frank said, moving across the kitchen and to the cabinet in front of Gerard. "Want some?"
"Yes, please."
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" An edge of sarcasm tainting his words.
"A little sore." Gerard admitted. "But I like that."
"Masochist."
"Yeah, fuck you." Gerard rolled his eyes, a little embarrassed.
Frank smiled, handing him the pills, then turned back to the oven. "The current batch has two minutes. How many cookies do you want?"
Gerard popped them dry and leaned back to the wall with his hands at his back. "How many batches will there be?"
"Three."
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FanfictionGerard Way, a French artist, is returning to his hometown in the States for the sudden funeral of his late father. Because of relationship issues, he won't be staying with his family. But the Ieros next door are fully welcoming of him staying in new...
