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It starts with a joke.
This is nothing unusual - most things with them start with a joke. It’s just how they are.
They’re all sitting around at the shop, in various states of ‘busy’ (Frank and Bob) or ‘doing nothing at all’ (Ray and Mikey), when the obnoxious bell on the door that Frank made them buy dings, signaling a new arrival as Gerard walks in. He looks normal for someone who’s just come in out of the Jersey winter, with his huge jacket and scarves all over the place. He pulls one of the scarves down so that his mouth is uncovered, and greets everyone.
“Frankie!” He calls, and Frank looks up from where he’s tattooing a shadow demon on some dude’s calf. “What do you want for dinner?”
Frank takes a moment to think, and doesn’t even seem to notice the other guys smirking around him, or the glare from the guy he’s supposed to be tatting up right now.
“Hmm. How about spaghetti?” He asks, and Gerard nods.
“Spaghetti I can do. See you at home.”
“Kay.” Frank says, and Gerard turns for the door with a wave from the rest of the guys.
Just before Gerard reaches the door, he hears Mikey’s voice, with that familiar smirk behind it.
“God, I swear. You guys are so fucking domestic you should be wearing t-shirts with each other’s faces and the word ‘boyfriend’ on them.”
Gerard turns, gaping and spluttering indignantly in Mikey’s direction, while Frank looks up, stricken, and flips him off. Mikey, Bob, and Ray all laugh, and Gerard stomps out of the shop.
~*~
He fumes about the joke as he slams around the kitchen making dinner without really having to think about the steps in the cooking process. He’s made spaghetti enough times to know, and he learned from his grandma, who was the best, hands down.
Boyfriends. He thinks, the word spit like acid inside his own head as he looks around for the pasta strainer. He finally finds it, the one with the tinier holes so the pasta won’t fall through because he knows how much more Frank likes the angel hair than regular. Frank and I aren’t fucking dating!
Gerard growls as he sets the table, glancing habitually at the clock to see if it’s soon enough to Frank’s normal arrival time to pour the drinks and have them not get too warm in the between time. Four minutes. He thinks, and pulls the wine from the fridge to be poured into the glasses on the table.
He’s still muttering angrily as he fills their bowls with spaghetti and sets out the garlic bread, and has to make a conscious effort to wipe the look off his face when he hears Frank opening the front door.
“Honey, I’m home!” Frank calls with a laugh as he enters the kitchen.
Gerard winces. Frank says that far too often upon returning from work, and today the joke is more potent than usual.
Gerard forgets about the whole thing as they chatter comfortably over dinner about their respective days, Gerard describing the new painting he started this morning, as well as which ones he managed to get sold later in the afternoon, and Frank giving a rundown of basically everyone that came into the shop that day and what they got done, and complimenting Gerard on dinner.
“I don’t even know how I don’t weigh 300 pounds after living with you for so many years.” Frank says. “I’m going on a diet. Pass me another piece of garlic bread?”
Gerard laughs. “Some diet.”
Frank smiles through a mouthful of pasta, which Gerard doesn’t find nearly as disgusting as he probably should, and then says, “So, wanna watch Night Of the Living Dead and fall asleep in my room tonight?”
Gerard swallows heavily, takes another drink of wine, and fights back the churning in his guts. Now that he thinks about it, they kind of do the staying-up-late-watching-movies-and-falling-asleep-together thing a lot. Damn it, Mikey was so right. Gerard hates when Mikey’s right.
“Totally. But you’re helping me clean the kitchen first.”
“Gerard,” Frank says, enunciating the second syllable and rolling his eyes, “I always help you clean up the kitchen.”
Gerard shrugs. “And that’s why you don’t weigh 300 pounds yet. It’s good exercise.”
Frank throws his last bite of garlic bread at Gerard’s face, and they’re both grinning as they clear the table and wash the dishes, only occasionally acting like children and flicking water or soap bubbles at each other.
~*~
Later that night, after everything has been cleaned and they’ve changed into their pajamas, they lay out on Frank’s bed side by side but for the bowl of popcorn sitting between them. The room is dark and there are zombies on the tv in front of them, and they’re following their usual routine of quoting the same stupid parts of whatever movie they happen to be watching, and throwing popcorn or kicking at each other’s ankles playfully when they get in an argument over special effects or makeup.
The popcorn bowl empties out about a quarter of the way through the movie, and by the time the credits start scrolling, Frank is curled up with his hands fisted in the front of Gerard’s t-shirt, snoring softly. Gerard looks down at Frank’s sleeping form, brushes some hair back from his face, and leans over carefully to get the remote from the other side of the bed and turn the power off, thrusting the room into mostly-darkness.
Frank shifts around, pulling Gerard closer instinctively, and blearily blinks his eyes open to look up at Gerard in the bluish moonlight coming through the curtainless window.
“Hey. I missed the end of the movie again, didn’t I?”
Gerard nods and gives a small smile, which Frank returns immediately before pressing his face back into Gerard’s chest and inhaling deeply. Gerard pretends that his arms don’t close tighter around Frank’s back.
“Mikey was right, wasn’t he?” Frank asks, and the smile in his voice is audibly even when it’s muffled by Gerard’s shirt. “We’re fucking dating.”
Gerard smiles too, even though just a few hours ago the thought of that made him angry enough to throw something.
“We kind of are.” He admits, and they both laugh.
“We’ll have to tell the guys.”
Gerard can practically hear Frank’s eyes rolling. “I think they already know. They knew before we did, dude.”
“True.” Gerard concedes. “Frank-”
Frank removes his face from Gerard’s shirt and leans up to silence him with a kiss.
“Shh. We’ll talk about it later. Now go to sleep, we’ll buy engagement rings tomorrow.”
Gerard laughs and settles back down. Maybe being boyfriends isn’t so bad after all.