frerard one shots | ✔️

sixty-six ~ frigid

"Hey, beautiful," Frank heard. "You want another drink?"

He turned towards the voice and rolled his eyes. He didn't come here for this rubbish. "No."

The man scratched at the back of his neck and ran a hand over his slightly balding head. "You seem like such a sweet guy, all alone at this gay bar. It's tragic. Wouldn't you like a partner for the night? If ye know what I mean?"

"I'm well aware of what you mean, but I'm actually waiting on my boyfriend. He's late from work," Frank lied and made an effort to still his shaking hands in case the older man somehow knew his tells.

"I'm sure a guy like you could get a man that was on time for a date, though, darling. I'm looking for someone your age... to, erm... spoil."

"I'm not really looking for a sugar daddy, thanks," Frank replied, getting vexed. "Like I said, I do have a boyfriend."

The man took a seat next to him and Frank didn't miss the way he reached over his glass to get a napkin from the bar for no reason. Noting not to drink any more of his drink, he crossed his arms. "Please leave me alone. I'm seriously just here for a drink with my boyfriend."

The man leant towards Frank, seemingly towering over the short man. "You're fucking lying," he seethed. "You're too lovely to lie to my face darling. I'll give you anything you want whenever you want it. I've got money in the bank, a comfortable home, and a rather large cock. I'll give you whatever you desire. And that is a promise."

Frank glanced at the bartender, and magically he looked back and saw the look in Frank's eyes, walking over.

"Hey," he said, leaning toward the balding man. "Please leave my customers alone."

"You're fucking frigid, mate," the man said, spitting at Frank, but not landing anywhere near him. "Your boyfriend is going to leave you any day now. In fact, he's probably late cause he's finally getting his sexual needs met someplace else."

"Sod off!" Frank raised his voice, and the man glared at him, and then back up at the bartender who was still staring at him.

"You heard the lad, go on," he urged. "Either buy a drink or leave. That's the policy."

The old man rolled his eyes, picked up his coat, slung it on, and disappeared out the door of the bar.

"Thank you so much, mate," Frank said, turning to the bartender, and feeling his heart stutter a little when their eyes met. "I owe you one."

"Not a problem," he replied. "You really got a boyfriend you're waiting on?"

"Nah, unfortunately not," Frank sighed, leaning onto the bar so their faces were just a couple inches closer. "I like your hair."

"Well thanks, I did it myself," the bartender responded, twirling a finger through his bright red hair. "What's your name?"

"Frank," he replied, "and yours?"

"Gerard."

"Nice to know you," Frank smiled, and reached his hand across the bar for Gerard to shake.

"And you too, Frank," Gerard said with a grin, shaking his hand firmly.

"By the way, I think that man put something in my drink. I saw him reach over it and some dusty shit came out of his hand."

"Lemme see," Gerard said, and raised the glass up to his nose. "He did. He's stupid too. Most people don't put in drugs that smell."

"Most intelligent people don't call people they want to bed 'frigid' anyways," Frank said with a light laugh, and Gerard joined him.