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“We don’t have to go you know.” Gerard reminded Frank in one final attempt, slinging a bright red scarf over his black v-neck sweater.
“Of course we have to go!” Frank shouted back from down the hall.
“Or they’ll complain for months about not getting to see you and ask my mom if I hate them or whisper about how I love you more. Which I do, by the way.”
“Frank, your family loves you. They’ll understand if you’re sick.”
Gerard said, coming up behind his husband and wrapping his arms around his waist. While he was there he tried to sneakily check Frank’s forehead for a fever, but he missed his chance--Frank caught on.
“I am not. I’m fine.” Frank retorted, wriggling out of his arms.
He walked over to the mirror in their bedroom and adjusted the dark green Christmas sweater he had chosen. It had brightly colored Christmas ornaments stitched along his chest. Frank took a perverse sort of pleasure in ugly Christmas sweaters. He reveled in them. Gerard, chic as ever, secretly loved it. It was Frank’s way of showing that for all his moaning, he really did love the holidays.
Unfortunately he was also clearly getting sick, and wouldn’t stay home, despite all Gerard’s pleading. He’d been coughing all day when he thought Gerard couldn’t hear. It was a nasty, wet sounding thing, probably picked up that day Frank had initiated an impromptu snowball fight and ended up soaked. But they always did Christmas Eve with Frank’s family, and then Christmas Day was just for the two of them. Frank was determined to keep that tradition up.
“Alright, alright,” Gerard sighed, “I’ll go warm up the car.”
Ten minutes later Frank was trudging through the blustery night and sliding into the passenger seat, flakes of snow caught on his eyelashes and in his hair. Gerard drove slowly through the snow. It was about an hour drive to Frank’s parent’s house. Gerard kept the heat up to eighty, until he was sweating. Frank shivered through his and Gerard’s coat the whole way, falling asleep against the window. Gerard woke him up when they arrived. He turned the car off and ran out to open Frank’s door. He didn’t care how long they’d been married, Gerard believed his husband deserved a gentleman, and that’s who he’d be.
When the pair tripped through the front door most of the family was already there.
“Frank! Gerard!” Frank’s mom encased the pair of them in a hug.
“Look at the two of you! So skinny! I have to fatten you up over the holidays so I can be sure you’ll make it to next Christmas.” She joked.
“Well nothing can top your mushroom soup Mrs. Iero.” Gerard responded warmly.
Frank rolled his eyes a little bit and smiled.
“Hi mom.”
Mrs. Iero beamed and pulled her son in for another hug.
By the time all of the extended family had had time to greet them, Frank was visibly resistant to further hugging. He tugged the sleeves of his sweater over his hands and crossed his arms, hoping to project an aura of “don’t touch me”. Gerard, by contrast, was soaking up the familial love. He was wildly popular among Frank’s relatives. By dinner time he’d talked to all of them at least once, complimenting each in their own right. Frank mostly stayed quiet, lingering in a corner and nursing some eggnog. Gerard eyed him every once in a while, worried.
Throughout dinner Gerard was kept busy by Frank’s family, who were eager to catch up on everything that had happened in the past year. He was glad to talk to them, but kept glancing over at Frank beside him, who was growing increasingly glassy-eyed over a glass of mulled cider and barely touched his food.
In the shifting around to clear plates and get dessert served Gerard lost track of Frank. While most of the party was settling back down to the table for pie and coffee, Gerard was craning his neck to look for Frank. He finally found his husband slouched over on the couch in the living room. The kids had all retreated there after dinner, and Frank had followed them. He was ruddy-cheeked and his chin was tucked forward to his chest. Gerard got there just in time to stop his glass from slipping out of his hand. Gerard set the glass on the coffee table and took a moment to admire his adorable husband, snoring softly into his Christmas sweater. His adorable stubborn husband, whose nose was red at the tip and dripping snot. At this point Gerard wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the alcoholic Christmas beverages, which was pretty much all he had consumed in the past four hours.
“Alright, c’mon sickie, it’s time to go home.” Gerard shook his husband lightly. Frank groaned a little bit and blinked slowly. When his eyes came back into focus, he shook his head at Gerard.
“M’not sick. and no one else’s left yet.” He mumbled.
“I don’t care. We’re going home.” Gerard repeated firmly.
Frank tried to protest a few times more, but he really was sick, and drunk and sleepy. His words were mumbled and slurred, Gerard just ignored them. His limbs were heavy as Gerard heaved him up from the couch and said their goodbyes.
The snow was coming down harder as Gerard helped Frank to the car. He buckled his husband in when it became clear his fingers were too clumsy to get the job done. Frank was snoring before they’d been in the car ten minutes. It was close to eleven by the time they got home. Gerard supported a swaying Frank to the door and kept his arm around him while he got the door open. Frank wouldn’t stop shivering. He staggered over to the couch and sank into it, jacket still on. Gerard let him go for the moment while he slid his shoes off and ran to get the thermometer.
When he returned Frank cracked his eyes open and squinted. He shook his head when he saw what Gerard had brought.
“Mm-mm. M’not sick.”
“Like hell you aren’t.” Gerard shot back.
“Stick this under your tongue and no cheating or I swear I won’t kiss you for a month.”
Frank grumbled at him, but eventually relented. When he heard the “beep” Gerard pulled out the thermometer. 102.
“Jesus, Frank.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair.
“Why can’t you just tell me? We shouldn’t have gone tonight.”
Frank looked at him unapologetically.
“M’ fine. T’s Christmas Eve. wasn’ gonna ruin it over a stupid cold.”
Gerard shook his head, past arguing. He retrieved some Nyquil and forced Frank to swallow the proper dosage.
“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”
“I don’ wanna.” Frank slurred.
“Come sit with me. We’ll wait f’r santa.”
“You’re ridiculous.” Gerard responded, but he smiled.
“But y’loovveeee me.” Frank mumbled back.
“You’re lucky I do. How bout we make a deal? You get out of that jacket before it soaks the couch, and I’ll sit with you for a little bit before we go to bed.”
Frank nodded.
Which is why, 20 minutes later, Gerard ended up getting Frank into his pajamas while he lay prone on the couch. Where somehow his feverish drunk shivering snotty husband convinced him that they needed a fire. So Gerard hauled some firewood up from the garage and built a fire, sighing heavily, but also worrying about Frank, who was shaking under a pile of blankets.
It was past midnight by the time Gerard had a good fire going. He pulled Frank close to him, and Frank smushed himself closer, most of him ended up on Gerard. He sighed happily.
“Y’smelllike peppermint.” He murmured into Gerard’s chest.
“Go to sleep you little idiot.” Gerard responded, stroking his forehead.
Frank was silent a long time after that. Gerard was almost asleep himself, watching the snow come down outside and listening to the fire crackle intermittently. Just as his eyes slid shut he heard Frank whisper
“Merry Chrismas G’rard.”