I Never Told You What I Do For A Living [Frerard]

Chapter 3- Pancake Mountain and Creeps

Chapter dedicated to @SeraphStarshine for making the new cover.

Also, first Gerard chapter, yay! (and yes, it's creeps, not crepes.)

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Gerard had been in some pretty strange situations, but none had involved being handcuffed to a hotel bed, dressed only in his t-shirt and boxers, with an attractive man he had met last night at a political convention/murder scene laying beside him.

His wrists were sore from being up all night, and he hoped they didn't have red marks on them.

On the other hand, maybe he hoped they did, because in that case he could expose them in the hotel lobby and hopefully embarrass Frank.

Or better, someone could call the police because there were cuff marks on his wrists. He didn't know if Frank had authorization to be operating in this country. It wasn't his own, after all. If not, Gerard would be taken in by the British police, or maybe set free, and if he did, then nothing would change in his situation.

He mentally shrugged, not prepared for such complex thinking this soon after waking. Instead, he decided to kick Frank awake and make him  do something about his growing hunger.

"Ow!" Frank exclaimed, jerking awake and jumping away from Gerard. "Little shit," he muttered, rubbing his side.

"I'm hungry, Frankie," he groaned dramatically, throwing himself against his pillows.

Frank glared at him.

"Well maybe you should skip breakfast, considering how hard you just kicked me."

Gerard pouted.

"Maybe if you had let me have my fricking Batman pajamas, I would be nicer to you and choose a more likable approach to waking you from your beauty sleep!" He argued. "Besides, you can't do that, it's like, prisoner abuse, or something."

Frank laughed a bit at that. A short one, but a laugh all the same. It caught Gerard by surprise. Did he think he was actually funny...?

No, Gerard decided. He couldn't. He was just making fun of his pathetic attempt at humor. 

It didn't matter anyways. It wasn't like it was his life-long dream to become a professional comedian.

"Prisoner abuse?" Frank repeated, sounding unimpressed and confirming Gerard's suspicion that he was laughing at him, not with him.

"It's totally a thing," Gerard said solemnly, ignoring the familiar dropping of his heart. 

Frank rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning to grab a set of normal clothing.

"I'm gonna get dressed. You can after, but you're gonna have to wear my jeans."

He left for the bathroom. Gerard sighed. How could this get any worse?

First, Frank distracts him from gathering information on Jones, meaning he would have to spy on him some other time, then some dumbass kills the bastard before he can, he gets captured by an extremely attractive cop of some sort (who didn't even like him), is handcuffed to the bed and deprived of his Batman pajamas, and now he has to wear Frank's pants, which would be super uncomfortable, because that man is fucking tiny!

Oh, and he was still hungry.

-

Twenty minutes later, Frank consented to going to get something to eat in the lobby, since breakfast was on for another hour.

Gerard practically dragged him down the stairs, earning a few smiles from other guests.

Finally, they were in the lobby, Gerard staring at the heavenly sight of the pancake buffet.

"Pancakes!" he basically squealed (okay, maybe he did squeal, shut up).

He joined the end of the short line, proceeding to create a mountain of pancakes, drenching them in syrup. He looked up to where Frank was standing beside him, watching the process with incredibly wide eyes.

"You're going to eat all that?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes," Gerard replied in a 'duh' tone.

Once at the table, Gerard munched on his stack while Frank slowly ate a bowl of cereal.

Gerard's mind was running as fast as it always was, working to analyze the other man's possible thoughts, thinking of how great it would be to draw the scorpion on his neck, mourning the loss of his sketchbook.

His eyes wandered the room to distract himself from that thought. Unfortunately, all that accomplished was watching the way a blond man across the lobby was sitting, since it was the exact posture he would have put his new character in.

Frank seemed to notice his prolonged gaze, and turned slightly in his seat to check out the object of his interest.

He paled considerably when his gaze landed on the blond man.

"Are you o-" Gerard began, but was cut off by Frank muttering "Shit," and grabbing his hand, pulling him up and away from his glorious pancakes.

"Hey!" he protested, quietly so people didn't stare at them. Frank didn't respond, so he just followed him, for once not pestering his captor.

"Where are we going?" he asked, once they were back in their room.

"Away," Frank replied, shoving things into his bag. "C'mon," he said, turning to Gerard. "You can put your stuff in this pocket."

Gerard complied, folding his suit as neatly as he could, slipping his beat up iPod from the pocket into his new one, not even protesting about the fact that his suit would probably get wrinkled.

They left quickly, avoiding all human contact other than the receptionist, to check out, and the cab driver, for Frank to rattle off a quick address.

Despite his burning questions, he knew Frank wouldn't answer any, and he was too tired to be annoying. He usually got significantly more sleep than he had last night, and now he found himself drifting off, his body slumping against Frank in the backseat.

He felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, and he was asleep.

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There. Done.

There's probably a ton of mistakes, so please point them out! I really want to fix things so this is better. I probably should have put this at the beginning.

Whatever, I'm lazy.

Also, would anyone be interested in a request one-shot book?

Off to reread Theater 12 for the billlionth time, bye!

-Brightside ⨳