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“You do know that this is animal exploitation, right?”
Gerard imagines Ray rolling his eyes. To be fair, he himself isn’t exactly fond of this idea, but he had no say on the matter: he didn’t even know what his bandmates had planned until it was too late, but if he knew, he definitely would have done everything in his power to stop them.
Because seriously, those three need to stop their attempts at setting him and Frank together. Especially by making them do something they both are never going to enjoy, Frank — for ethical reasons, Gerard — because he doesn’t like the feeling of being tricked into doing something he didn't plan. He needs time to mentally prepare for things like this, dammit.
And seriously, who could possibly think that booking a sleigh ride would be a great idea to trick people into hooking up? Especially when those two people explicitly told everyone interested in their relationship to lay off and mind their own business.
“We could bail,” Gerard suggests weakly. “We still have time, right?”
He struggles to believe it himself: the guys have probably thought everything through, and if they try to get out of this situation now, they will come up with something much worse. Or — and this is somehow much worse, — someone (probably Mikey) will pick up on the clues. Gerard shudders at the pictures his imagination conjures. It’s useless to fight it. He is almost certain the guys are watching them. And putting bets. They’re definitely putting bets.
Frank seems to be of the same opinion. He grumbles something under his breath and takes a quick glance at the horse. The horse pointedly ignores him.
“Okay,” Frank mutters. “The sooner we get in, the sooner we get out and forget about this shit.”
And that way we won’t give those idiots the satisfaction. Gerard has no idea the satisfaction of what exactly — probably the feeling of being the best wingmen in the world, — but he is certain this is what Frank meant.
And that is how Gerard finds himself in a sleigh. With Frank. On what is definitely, certainly, absolutely not a date. He doesn’t even like sleigh rides — never understood the appeal of spending an entire hour outside, in the cold, with almost nothing to occupy himself with during the ride.
They sit in awkward silence for the first few minutes. Gerard feels Frank shiver next to him, and mentally curses everyone: Frank’s jacket is obviously not warm enough for this weather, and the sleigh doesn’t have enough space for movement, and Frank is going to catch a cold and spend the next week or two with a sore throat and pissed at the entire world. Frank tries to endure the cold with stoicism but it’s becoming clearer with every passing second that he is about to succumb soon.
Gerard takes off his scarf. Frank gives him a worried glance.
“I’m not cold,” he says, his teeth chattering and the entire body shaking.
Gerard rolls his eyes. “Don't be an idiot.”
“You need to take care of your voice.”
“And you need to take care of yourself, so stop being a child and put this on.”
“I’m not being a child, you are,” Frank grumbles.
He still takes the scarf and huddles closer to Gerard. Gerard holds his breath for a few moments; he is still learning to control his emotions around Frank, and with the guys watching every move they make might be interpreted in a completely wrong way.
“Maybe we should just tell them,” Frank suggests.
“No.”
“Gee, come on, it’s been three months!”
“They’ll never leave us alone,” Gerard protests. “And I know Mikey bet everything he has that we’re gonna hook up by the end of this year and I really don’t want him to win.”
Frank hums. “Fair enough.”
He stays close to Gerard, who wraps his arm around his waist — discreetly, hoping that nobody decided to follow them to see if they are actually going to hook up. He wants to be angry at his bandmates — and especially his brother— for interfering in his private life, but quickly realises that he can’t.
After all, sometimes they come up with decent ideas for a date.