coffee dates and other things || frerard oneshots

work stress

third and final instalment of 'shotgun', this one is kind of like an epilogue to the whole thing

i am 90% writing this to avoid writing the next chapter of summer storms, and 10% writing this bc my friend came up with the idea and it was too good to not write it

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"Hey, just the usual please." Gerard ordered, still trying to remain polite despite how familiar they were with each other. Ian nodded and spun around, wordlessly preparing their drinks for them.

Gerard tapped the counter and turned to look over his shoulder, kissing the air in Franks direction when he caught him staring. Frank, despite their status as a married couple, looked flustered for a moment before his gaze hardened when he caught sight of something behind Gerard. 

He turned around just as Ian was layering the milk into the cup of one drink, his eyebrows drawn together almost sadly as he clipped the lid on and turned around to start the next drink. They had other baristas working, but Ian always made sure he was the one to make their drinks. There was one girl named Stella who had tried to serve them once and had ended up getting the order wrong, and the two men had been too polite to say anything about it but Ian had noticed and ended up remaking it for them.

Caught up in his thoughts, Gerard almost didn't notice when his friend slid the two drinks over carefully. "Hey Gee?"

The artist/botany student blinked himself out of his daze. "Yeah?"

"Why does Frank hate me?"

The question caught Gerard off guard, his brain short circuiting as he tried to figure out a way to explain that Frank didn't hate Ian he was just over-protective now that his job was a criminal offence. Ian was looking at him with wide, sad eyes, the years of friendship and joking not adding up to the sudden cold shoulder Frank was giving him. Gerard softened.

"He doesn't hate you Ian, he's just... stressed about work a lot." Well, it's not a lie. He thought to himself.

Ian still looked confused, but his shoulders were less slumped now that Gerard had outright stated that Frank didn't hate him. "Oh, what kind of work does he do?"

Gerard thought about the gun under the sink in their bathroom and the chloroform in their medicine cabinet. He remembered patching up injuries he chose not to ask about, and a phone call in the afternoon while he made spaghetti. A phone call that made Frank go nuclear. 

"He, um..." He looked over at Frank, the distance between them making it almost impossible to see the bruises on his knuckles. "Works with his hands a lot. Also deals with finances and sometimes international affairs. But, his, uh, work associates are a little... rough around the edges- and you know how Frank tends to get a little grouchy when he's around too many people for too long."  

Ian nodded, eyebrows furrowed in thought. "So he works with a lot of people then?"

"Uhhh, i guess you could say that?" Gerard responded, trying to keep the questioning note out of his voice. Because, yeah, Frank worked with a lot of people. A lot of people that Gerard preferred not to know about.

"Ah, that makes sense I guess. I know owning a coffee shop can be damn stressful." Ian laughed and Gerard joined him, relieved that the topic seemed to be dropped for now. 

"Yeah, and I promise that Frank doesn't hate you. He's just avoiding blowing up at you by accident; I'm sure he'll be back to normal in a few months, once he's really adjusted y'know?"

At least, Gerard really fucking hoped he would be. Thankfully, Ian just nodded with a smile and let Gerard take their drinks back to his table, where he promptly sipped from both drinks to let Frank know that no Ian did not poison our coffees, please stop thinking he'd do that.