frank/gerard ficlet: happy fucking new year

[cimorene]

Usually I never write more than one thing at once, but apparently there's an exception for tiny ten-minute ficlets.

Frank/Gerard, pg, about 2000 words, set in the usual near-reality girlfriendless AU. For bexless ♥. (This ficlet is a remix of a drabble, Ringing in the New Year, by technicolorrr.)

Happy Fucking New Year Frank finally makes it to Mikey's New Year's party at like, ten minutes to midnight. It's so late that Mikey's not even anywhere near the door by then, and neither is Alicia. He starts looking for Gerard right away - no time to lose - but it's crowded with scene kids he doesn't know and most of them are wearing costumes and masks. He can't find Gerard at all. Maybe he isn't even here. Frank keeps stumbling over furniture and discarded paper top hats and female legs in fishnets until finally he fucking gives up and collapses on the wall by the bathroom, sulking. What was the point of rushing over here anyway? He should have taken it as a sign when he missed his train. His mask is stupid and hot, he can't see anyone he knows from here, and he was really hoping to find Gerard tonight, at the costume party, with the fucking mask on. He hadn't realised how much he was kind of fucking counting on it. Frank knows it's stupid, but it was really kind of the perfect opportunity. The thing is that even though it's not like Gerard would push him away if he just walked up and kissed him any old time - he can hardly imagine Gerard doing anything but kissing back, unless he had some good reason, like a piece of trivia he had to tell you about Doom Patrol or to ask what was that you had eaten. It's just that Gerard would just roll with it, the way he does, and Frank can't stand the thought of that for some reason, of Gerard just letting Frank kiss him and cheerfully kissing him back; for some reason he would rather kiss Gerard as someone other than himself, so at least he might be surprised, at least it will be like a real kiss to Frank. He almost wishes he and Gerard hadn't made such a habit of kissing fucking casually. Although even he has to admit that that is mostly his fault. He looks down dully over the balcony to the swarming room and sees that it's almost midnight. At least he'll get some fucking champagne, he figures, and he takes advantage of the people turning around to look at the tv as the countdown starts to edge his way down the stairs, closer to the sources of champagne. Unfortunately he doesn't quite make it before the countdown is up. As "three!" is echoing through the house someone grabs his arm. He tries to turn around or jerk it away, but then someone yanks his mask up. Whoever it is doesn't bother to take it all the way off, just shoves it up so the sweaty plastic smashes against Frank's nose and covers his eyes completely. On "one!", a hand goes around the back of his neck; and on the sound of everyone saying "Happy New Year!" around him, Frank's mouth is full of tongue. It tastes like cheese curls, and there was no speech at all, but it only takes a couple of stunned seconds for Frank to recognise Gerard by the kiss - he moves his mouth and Frank can feel his lopsided lower lip and the familiar shape of his jaw, and even though his face is covered in sweaty plastic and he can't see, he's not disoriented anymore. He knows the feel of Gerard's hand on his head and his arm and then he presses forward, or Gerard drags him closer, or both, and he knows that feeling, the solid shape of Gerard's body, too. Frank tries to make a confused noise, or even to put together a complete and unconfused thought, because Gerard kissing him is the opposite of what he intended - he's wearing his mask but Gerard must know it is him, even if, thinks Frank, nobody else does, because if one thing is certain it's that nobody is looking at them, or recognising them, in this crowd of dark-haired scene kids in plastic masks. And Frank hasn't been able to see for five or six minutes or possibly five or six seconds, but he knows this kind of party, and there are definitely still people making out everywhere. So even though the way Gerard is fisting his hair, and licking deep in his mouth, feels awfully R-rated, he's sure they are one of the tamest couples around. Gerard seems content enough just to take his time, really make himself at home with Frank's tonsils, and it's not like he hasn't checked out the inside of Frank's mouth before. Even if he hadn't, he would have learned his way around by now. As long as he can still breathe - and he can - Frank is fine with this going on indefinitely except for the tiny little fact that he's still got a plastic mask smushed into his face... Gerard seems surprised to find it there when he finally pulls back a little, because he says "Oh!" in this voice like something has finally been explained to him, and drags it the rest of the way off. The mask vanishes somewhere behind Frank. He couldn't see it even if he looked, probably. He blinks at Gerard, who continues, "You made it!" Frank would think he had forgotten the last five minutes (ten seconds? fifty seconds? ten minutes?), or that Frank had hallucinated them, except that he's still standing in the crook of Gerard's arm, and Gerard's smiling goofily at him, his mouth wet and kissed. Frank just keeps staring at him for a while. His hair is messy, and it's been washed sometime recently and the roots aren't showing like they were before Christmas. His cheeks are red and his eyes are bright and excited. He looks cheerful and a little turned on maybe, but not really like he's just given Frank the best kiss of his life, or even like there's anything unusual going on. "Yeah," says Frank finally, "you know, the trains," and Gerard nods. Frank wonders if it would be too soon to kiss him again. "Um, how was Christmas?" says Gerard, and then before Frank can answer, "Fuck, you were going somewhere when I caught up with you and grabbed you, right? Do you need to...?" "Whatever," says Frank, "That's fine. I don't even know anymore." He's not sure he does. He's looking at Gerard's mouth and he's fucking grinning probably and he might be going cross-eyed. "Cause I was gonna crash here and Mikey finished up making that new guestroom in the attic, you know, so unless someone broke in up there and is making out on the fucking bed or whatever... I got a Lady Vengeance box set for Christmas and it's kinda loud down here, I think this girl screamed right next to me earlier, unless she was laughing, but it sounded like a scream at least, and it actually might have damaged my fucking eardrum." He pauses and scrunches his nose and adds, doubtfully, "It might be better to try making out again without that mask in the way," as if he's not sure it really would. "Yes," says Frank instantly. There are times when it can be satisfying to tell Gerard to shut his fucking face, and then there are lot more times when doing that won't even save any time at all. You just hurry things along where you can. "Okay." Gerard looks around and squints at the stairs, but Frank dives right into the crowd. It's not likely to clear up anytime soon. He clears a path to the stairs by elbowing. At the top of the second flight of stairs, the ones to the attic, there's a little lightswitch because the stairs are completely dark, and the door is dark too, with just the faint glow of Christmas lights from below making pink shadows on Gerard's hands and face while he fumbles with the doorknob. It feels bizarrely like they're sneaking up here, ditching a high school party to make out in Steve Summerford's parents' bedroom or something. The voice of Dick Clark is mixing with the faint sound of The Smiths and Gerard is singing along as he pushes through the door. Frank puts his head on Gerard's shoulder and yawns. Gerard closes the door behind them, plunging them into complete darkness, so Frank can't even see the hands coming up and the first thing he feels is the pads of Gerard's fingers tracing the side of his face. "Mm," he says vaguely, "Frankie," and fumbles for Frank's face in the dark like a blind man, hands guiding his jaw, mouthing at his ear and eyebrow and making a dorky little hiccup of laughter before he lands on the mouth. Frank can't see anything. It feels like a dream, and he grabs fistfuls of Gerard's shirt and pushes himself closer and opens his mouth, making a soft pleading noise that fades away in the darkness, and Gerard sticks his hand under the neck of Frank's shirt and sucks his tongue into his mouth with a lewd wet noise and kind of humps Frank's leg. "Happy fucking New Year," he says into Frank's mouth, and trips on something in the dark trying to pull Frank over to the bed. Lady Vengeance is forgotten. The next morning Frank and Gerard wade through a forest of plastic cups, discarded masks and cardboard headbands, streamers and confetti, chips crushed into the carpet, and crumpled napkins to reach the door and make for the nearest open café while wet, fat snowflakes fall on their hats and sleeves and stick to the pavement. "We should bring back some bagels and coffee for Mikey and Alicia," says Gerard. "Yeah, but coffee first," says Frank, "and anyway, I'm not eating in there right now." After the second cup of coffee, when he's started to come to life a little, Gerard blinks and says, "I never did find out how your Christmas was." Frank shrugs. "Grandpa's doing great. It was nice to see everybody, I guess. Nice being back there." "Mmm," hums Gerard. "That's great. Mine was pretty good - I didn't get that painting done after all but I turned in a script on time. Pretty relaxing. Cold. Oh, but the best part was, I went to Mikey's New Year's party." "Yeah?" says Frank politely, trying to nibble a cream cheese danish without getting frosting on his skeleton gloves. "M-hm," says Gerard, "I kissed this guy at midnight..." he trails off and takes a drink of coffee, looking bright-eyed at Frank through the steam, and then licks his lips and smirks. Frank looks down at his coffee and shreds a piece of pastry in his hands. "Yeah?" he asks again, kind of dumbly, but it's all he can think of to say for a second. "How was that?" He can't decide if Gerard's being really fucking corny or if Frank's own heart has suddenly filled with helium and pressed up against the top of his ribcage like it's trying to escape. Probably both. When Gerard grins and drops his eyes down to the tabletop for a second, Frank burns his tongue on his coffee. "Fantastic," says Gerard dreamily. "Fucking fantastic. It was like fireworks and champagne and the whole world celebrating -" "Ha ha," says Frank. " - Like," says Gerard earnestly, "just exactly the right place and time and exactly the right person, you know? Sometimes it just happens like that. Fucking perfect." Oh, thinks Frank, but he's just looking at Gerard now and can't get any words out and can't remember if he actually ate his danish. Gerard is talking again, though. It looks like Frank has some more time to recover. "I think I'm going to call him up," he says seriously. "Ask him out to dinner. He was really great. Hot. Short and tattooed, long brown hair, big green eyes. Gorgeous mouth. Great in bed." His mouth twitches quickly and unevenly into a smile. "He plays in a band." "Huh," says Frank, and rubs his face with his hands, covering up his mouth. "Sounds like your type." There's a little pause. Gerard takes another sip of his coffee and then says, "Yeah. I think so. So - what do you think?" "I say go for it," says Frank. His burnt tongue is tingling and his throat feels dry. He swallows. Gerard grins and nudges Frank's foot under the table. "Really? Think he'll say yes?" "Yeah, absolutely," says Frank. "He'd have to be nuts not to." He feels totally jazzed, nerves thrumming like a plucked guitar string, but he's absolutely sure he's not crazy. "Okay," Gerard says, quietly, and reaches over the tabletop to squeeze Frank's hand. "So... happy new year?" "Happy new year," says Frank, and squeezes back.

Comments

[damson.livejournal.com]

God, that's positively made of :D

*holds it close*

[cimness.livejournal.com]

Thanks for taking the time to tell me you enjoyed it!