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With a heavy sigh, Frank slipped the room keycard out of his pocket.
“Ay, come on. We don’t have all day.”
Slates' deep voice said from behind him, his pixelated eyes narrowed. Frank simply rolled his eyes, not bothering to reply as he unlocked the hotel door. Slate strode past him, tossing his suitcase onto the hotel room's small couch. Frank sat down on the bed, looking up at Slate.
“...there's one bed.”
He muttered, running his fingers through his fiery red hair. Slate just snorted, rolling his eyes. Slate opened up his suitcase, beginning to unpack– they’d be here for a while, so might as well get comfy, right?
Slate didn’t answer for a while, caring more about putting everything away all neat and tidy. This annoyed Frank a lot. He hated silence. Why would you be silent when there's no reason TO be quiet? It was stupid, in Frank's opinion. Finally, after a few, long torturous minutes of silence, Slate's voice finally spoke up.
“Then we’ll just share a bed? Unless you want to sleep on the crappy couch.”
Slate scoffed to himself, sitting on the bed next to Frank and grabbing a pile of clothes out his suitcase and beginning to put them on hangers. Frank let out a stubborn huff and looked away, folding his arms across his chest in protest.
“We Aren’t buying another room just for your stubborn ass, get used to it.”
Frank mumbled in protest, but didn’t argue further. Eventually he got fed up and left the room to go explore the crappy hotel they were going to be living in for a week or so.
Once Frank came back, Slate was already in bed wearing only his Boxers and a black tank top. Frank shut the door loudly behind him, not caring about Slate sleeping. Slate stirred, but didn’t wake up. However, Frank bumped into the dresser and knocked a picture frame off of it, causing the glass on the picture frame to break completely.
Slate awoke with a tired groan, placing his hands over his mask and sitting up. Finally he removed his hands from his mask and spoke up, his deep voice tired and raspy. Franks never heard Slate's voice that deep. It was almost… hot? Though Frank would never admit that openly to anyone.
“..Seriously?”
“...sorry.”
Frank replied sheepishly, glancing away from Slates' tired form and rubbing the back of his neck. Slate rolled his eyes and laid back down.
“Whatever, just toss a towel over it. We’ll clean it tomorrow,” Slate sighed, patting the empty spot next to him. “Come on. I saved a spot for you.”
Frank's face almost turned as red as his hair. Frank stayed silent for a few minutes, sputtering and looking around.
“W- Wh- Im not-! Why- No!-”
Frank tried to protest, but was eventually cut off by Slate sitting up and crossing his arms.
“Would you rather sleep on the small ass couch in the corner?”
Frank went completely silent and looked away, too awkward to reply. So he simply walked away and into the bathroom to get undressed. After a few minutes he came back out, continuing to stay silent as he got into the free spot next to Slate in the bed.
They both stayed silent for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling. Slate was… oddly calm, meanwhile Frank was eternally freaking out. He's sleeping in the same bed AS ANOTHER MAN? And the guy he HATES no less! What happened to the heterosexual overconfident man he was?
Frank could hear Slate turn and toss in the bed, trying to find a comfortable position. Frank glanced over at Slate in the bed, only to realize Slate was looking right at him, laying on his side. Slate narrowed his eyes once Frank met his gaze, his screen turning a light shade of pink.
“First time?” Frank took a few seconds to reply, trying to calm his nerves and get the stupid blush off his face.
“W.. first time what?” Frank finally uttered the courage to ask, and Slate simply hummed, scooting closer to Frank, as if to tease him.
“First time sleeping in a bed with another man.” Slate hummed, unbothered. Frank sputtered for a few long seconds before eventually pushing Slate away from him and turning away.
They stayed silent again, until Slate fell asleep once more. Once Frank realized Slate was asleep he turned back over to Slate, noticing he was still turned over to him. Frank let out a shaky breath, shaking his head and turning onto his back.
“Well… it couldn’t hurt if i…” Frank mumbled to himself, scooting closer to Slate. And again. And again. By the time Frank was lying completely still again, Frank and Slates bodies were almost touching.
Frank turned back over onto his side, so he and Slate's sleeping body were facing each other. Frank sighed, face palming. What has he even become?
Suddenly Slate shifted in bed, causing Frank to flinch away slightly. Slates' sleeping body clung to Frank, resting his head on Frank's shoulder. Frank let out a quiet startled noise, staying completely still. Slate wrapped his arms around Frank's unnaturally slim waist (heh… I smell a transgender TWINK), pulling Frank closer to him.
After a few awkward moments Frank sighed, shaking his head. I mean… he already moved closer to Slate… Plus it’s cold… what's the harm in moving closer to Slate?
Frank held his breath and moved ever closer to Slate, wrapping his arms around Slates neck and moving his leg over Slates legs. Finally he shut his eyes, beginning to fall asleep. Finally, only a few seconds later, Franks fast asleep in Slates arms.
Slates eyes slowly opened, before fixing on Frank, still clinging onto him as he sleeps peacefully.
“Hm…” Slate huffed to himself, amused. He tightened his grip on Frank, before shutting his eyes again and going back to sleep, resting his chin on Frank's shoulder.
The end…. Heh :3