Work Text:
Frank couldn't really remember what they'd fought about. It had obviously been about something completely stupid, if he couldn't remember, right? There had been yelling, and screaming, and Frank didn't even know what it was over.
Frank sighed and let his head drop to the table. He was on his lunch break, and he could hear Pete over in the corner by the window, on his cell phone to Patrick, giggling over something that was no doubt completely ridiculous. Frank could feel his own cell phone like a ten tonne weight in his pocket. He'd considered calling Gerard, trying to make some stupid idle chat, just like Pete, but he wasn't even sure if Gerard would answer to be honest.
It had been a pretty bad for their first fight. Really bad.
Frank groaned and lifted his head to let it thud against the wooden table. He'd been really mean. He hadn't intended to be mean, but things had just got out of control. Gerard had been yelling, and Frank had never heard him yell like that before, not at Frank, not about Frank, and he just couldn't help it.
"You know what?" Frank had screamed. "This was all too fast. This was fucking stupid, I should never have asked you to move in!"
Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he'd regretted them, had wanted to take them back and hide them away under the floorboards. It was too late, of course, and Gerard's face just kind of...broke, was the only way Frank could put it. Gerard had just fell silent, and just stared back at Frank, mouth open and eyes slightly wide.
It was a few seconds later that a pair of Batman Converse boots had went flying past Frank's head and the yelling had kicked off again. There had been more screaming, and insults, and Gerard had fucking cried and told Frank he'd leave if that's what Frank wanted, and Frank had yelled he didn't fucking know what he wanted anymore.
They'd only been together just over a year, should they be fighting like this? Frank wasn't so sure -- it wasn't like any of his other relationships had worked out. In fact, Frank was pretty sure every fight he'd ever had with a partner had resulted in a break up.
And that's when it hit him in the chest. They were breaking up, weren't they?
Frank felt his stomach clench up and his head started to hurt. Fuck, he thought. Was this really it? They were about to end it all over some fight that Frank couldn't even remember what they were arguing about? Really?
"Oh God," Frank whispered to himself, sitting up and scrubbing his face with his hands, trying to fight the burn that was building behind his eyes. No. This couldn't be it. It was a stupid fight, he hadn't even meant any of the shit he'd said. Sure, he might had said he hated the fact that the bathroom sink was constantly stained with paint, but if he was honest, the nights when Gerard stayed over at Mikey's left Frank with an empty feeling in his chest, when he didn't have used paint brushes to pick out of the sink and rinse off. He didn't really mean it when he told Gerard he was sick and fucking tired of tripping over Gerard's stupid army boots, or the fact that the laces were completely ruined ("Why can't you just buy a new fucking pair of laces?!"). It was all so stupid, all of it. All the things Frank had told Gerard he hated about him, he really, really didn't. They were all the little things that made Frank love the stupid artist even more.
"Frank?"
Frank pulled his hands away from his face to see Greta standing in the door way watching him.
"Yeah?" He asked, rubbing at his eyes again.
"Store's getting busy...you okay?" She added, fixing him with a concerned look.
Frank sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. Be right down."
Greta watched him for a second, before she nodded and disappeared back through the door.
Frank sighed and turned to look at Pete, still sat by the window giggling into his phone. Frank shook his head, and pushed himself up from the table.
*
"What's up with your face?" Pete asked, sliding up next to Frank as he laced up a pair of Sketchers.
"What? Nothing," Frank shook his head, frowning at the pink aglets.
"Oh come on," Pete bumped his shoulder. "I haven't seen you're face so long since Gerard had to go to New York for a week."
Frank let out a shaky sigh and shrugged. "I'm fine. Honestly. Just leave it, Pete."
Pete let out an over-dramatic breath. "Fine. Go serve that dude with the hawk."
Frank looked up and spotted a guy standing over by the Doc Marten's display, frowning at a pair of Ox Blood boots in his hand. Frank rolled his eyes and looked at Pete, "You know, just because I listen to punk, doesn't mean I gotta deal with every kid with a mohawk."
"Yes it does," Pete said, and patted Frank's back before he darted off towards where Greta was wrestling with the bag display.
Frank groaned and got to his feet, making his way towards the guy with the mowak. "Hi," he smiled, putting on his professonal face. "Can I help you?"
The guy turned to look at him, and took a few seconds before he said, "Hi..." And grinned.
He was really pretty, Frank couldn't deny it. "Hi," Frank said, and looked away quickly, clearing his throat. "Uhm, are you looking for anything, uhm, special?"
Suddenly, Frank felt really uncomfortable. "I wasn't, no," the guy said, and looking Frank up and down with a small smile. "Just browsing, really."
Frank swallowed and nodded. "Uh, so...if you like, need anything, I'll--"
"Actually," he guy said, and held out the boots in his hand. "Do you have these in a twelve?"
Frank took the boots and nodded. "I'll, uh, be right back."
When he was in the store room, Frank dropped the boots from his hands. What the fuck? Was that guy flirting with him? And why was Frank not telling him to back the fuck off? He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Not today. He couldn't deal with this today.
He quickly scanned the room for the right size of boots, muttering codes and colours until he found the right box, and darted back up to the store floor.
"Here you are," Frank smiled handing over the box. "Size twelve."
The guy smiled and took the box from Frank's hand.
"Frank, can you come here--" Greta was calling from the cash desk.
"Be there in a minute," Frank said, leading the pretty 'hawked guy towards the chairs to try the boots on. "You need a hand?" He asked.
"Sure," the guy smiled up, and Frank knelt down in front of him, taking the boots from the box and pulling out the paper stuffing. "Derek," the guy said.
Frank looked up and met the smile that Derek was shooting him. "Frank," he said, pointing to his nametag.
Derek nodded and pulled off his kicked in Chuck Taylors. Frank helped him pull the boots onto his feet, and froze when he felt their fingers brush. Frank looked up and really, really tried to not notice the smile Derek was giving him. He really did.
"They feel great," Derek said, and got to his feet, stamping about a little on the spot.
"They uh, look good on," Frank said. Since when was it difficult to compliment a customer? And since when did he freak out about customers flirting with him? Hadn't he blown off that girl with the green hair last week in the politist way possible?
"Thanks," Derek grinned down.
"Frank," Greta called again. "Can you--"
"I'll be there in a minute!" Frank actually snapped. "I'm helping a customer."
Derek raised his eyebrows and Frank laughed nervously. "You'd think I ran the store."
Derek chuckled and sat back down. "These are awesome." He said, pulling them off and tucking them back into the box. "I'll take them, if that's cool?"
Frank laughed. "Sure thing, I'll just--"
"Can I get your number too?"
Frank looked up, eyes wide. "Uh..."
"Or am I totally barking up the wrong tree?" Derek laughed and covered his face.
"Uhm, no, it's just." Frank paused and hung his head, shaking it slightly. "I have a boyfriend, sorry."
"Oh," Derek said. "Uh...serious, huh?"
Frank let out a breathy sigh. "Yeah, pretty serious." He laughed. "Had our first fight today, in fact."
"Ah," Derek said, and pulled on his Chucks. "That's never fun."
"You're telling me," Frank said, and got to his feet. He took the box of boots from Derek and gave him a smile. "Sorry."
"Nah," Derek grinned. "Was chancing my luck really, a cutie like you would never be single."
Frank gave a loud laugh and shook his head. "Thanks."
"Frank," Greta called again, and Frank turned his head, ready to bitch her out, because what the fuck, she knew you didn't interupt when you were with a customer. However, when Frank turned, mouth open and ready to snap, he stopped, eyes wide.
At the cash desk, beside Greta, holding a pair of bright green laces in his hand, was Gerard. Staring at Frank with wide eyes. Staring at Frank and Derek with wide eyes.
"Oh." Frank said, and cleared his throat. "Uh." He turned and looked at Derek who was watching him apprehensively. "I'll, uh, get Greta to ring these up for you."
Derek nodded and followed Frank to the cash desk. Frank kept his eyes down, his heart beating fast in his chest. He didn't look at Gerard, who was just stood at the side, next to Greta, his eyes on Frank.
"Greta, can you, uh," Frank stuttered. Greta just nodded and took the box from Frank's hands and turned to Derek, putting on her best smile.
"Thanks," Derek said, and turned to Frank. "Tell your boyfriend he should keep an eye on you," he winked, and Frank was pretty sure he was about to take a heart attack.
"Oh, uh, thanks," Frank said, and he looked up at Gerard who's face was a nice shade of red. Frank jerked his head in the direction of the staff room, but Gerard shook his head.
"Just wanted to let you know I'd be late tonight," He said, setting the laces back on the stand.
"Why?" Frank asked, panicked.
Gerard shrugged. "Gonna hang out with Mikey, he's got some showcase on."
"Oh." Frank said. "Uh, okay."
Gerard nodded, and shot a look towards where Derek was paying for his boots.
"I'll uh, see you later." Gerard said, and Frank nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck. Gerard nodded, turned, and left the store.
Frank let out a groan and turned back to the counter, letting his head fall to the hard top with a thump.
*
Frank wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep. Possibly during the fight of Helm's Deep, he wasn't entirely sure, all he knew was he had woken up at the sound of boots being kicked off in the small hallway and the light padding of feet towards the living room.
Frank sat up, rubbing his eyes and blinking at Gerard, stood in the doorway.
"Hey," Gerard said in a quiet voice. "Didn't mean to wake you."
Frank shook his head. "Tried to stay up," he yawned.
"You shouldn't have," Gerard sighed, letting his head hang down, staring at his socked feet.
"Need to talk," Frank yawned again, and he pulled his legs up under him, making space for Gerard to sit down.
Gerard looked up, and stared at him for a few seconds, before he nodded, and made his way over and sat on the sofa, a few inches from Frank, not touching.
"Okay," Gerard said, rubbing the palms of his hands over his thighs.
Frank nodded, and picked at the worn knee of his pajamma pants.
"Is this it?" Gerard asked, staring at his lap.
"Is it?" Frank whispered.
Gerard shrugged. "You're the one that said we'd moved too fast."
Frank groaned and rubbed his eyes. "I didn't mean it, you know I didn't mean that."
"I don't know if you did," Gerard said quietly. "You said you didn't know if you wanted this anymore."
"Gerard," Frank said, finally looking at him. "You know I didn't mean that. I was just angry, I didn't know what I was saying."
Gerard swallowed. "You said all I do is annoy you."
"I said that?" Frank whispered, horrified.
Gerard nodded. "My paints are always in the way, that I never tidy after myself, that--"
"Well, you don't," Frank couldn't help but say. He gave a small smile when Gerard glared at him.
"Do you want me here?" Gerard asked, eyes sad.
"Of course I do," Frank said, scooting forward on his knees and taking Gerard's face in his hands. He rubbed his thumbs down along Gerard's cheekbones, feeling a burning in his chest as he watched Gerard's eyes water. "I fucking love you, Gerard, of course I want you here. I didn't mean any of it, I swear."
Gerard nodded, and brought a hand up to wipe his eyes, and Frank ran a hand through his own hair.
"I'm sorry," Frank said. "I just...I don't know why I said that, any of that. I was just mad. You were yelling, and I just wanted to yell back, so I just said anything."
Gerard let out a breath and let his head drop to the back of the sofa. "I don't even know what we were fighting about."
Frank couldn't help but giggle. "Me neither."
Gerard rolled his head and looked at Frank, and gave him a tiny smile. "I love you."
Frank felt a swell in his chest and practically climbed onto Gerard's lap, grabbing the sides of his face and pressing their mouths together. "I love you so much," Frank mumbled against Gerard's lips. "Was so fucking scared."
"Me too," Gerard said, hands gribbing Frank's hips tightly. He pulled away and rested his forehead against Frank's. "In your work. When I saw you with...that guy, I just--"
"He was just flirting," Frank breathed, hands tugging in Gerard's hair. "I told him I had--"
"I know," Gerard smiled. "I saw you." He stroked the skin showing between where the hem of Frank's shirt ended and his pants started. Frank nodded and closed his eyes, just breathing, just feeling Gerard against him. He didn't notice Gerard's eyes flickering to the coffee table, or the smile on Gerard's face as he noticed the green laces sat on top of a reciept.
Frank swallowed and pressing a small kiss against Gerard's mouth again. "Please don't leave me," Frank whisped. "Ever."
Gerard grinned and kissed Frank a little harder, before he said, "I could never take you back," and Frank pulled away, looking at him worriedly.
Gerard just smiled and pressed another kiss against Frank's lips. "I lost the reciept."