Work Text:
"WE'RE DONE!!!"
Frank's peppy shout (accompanied by heavy coughing immediately afterwards) made Beanies jolt up from his desk, where he had just been woken from a little afternoon nap. He was expecting the repairs to take half a week at most, so it was such a surprise to him that the hobo had gotten them done in less than a day. Beanies stealthily wiped the drool that had formed from his nap onto his shoulder sleeve and went into the other room to check what Frank had done.
After the main entrance to his lab had been completely wrecked by some Mega Mutants after they had managed to escape containment, Frank was hired to work on the repairs. Beanies had managed to corral them easily once he activated their shock collars, but that hadn't undone the damage to the infrastructure. Broken floors, damaged beams, you name it. But Frank had taken care of it like it was nothing. While Beanies was hesitant to pay anyone for such a thing, the absurdly cheap cost made him accept— one kiss was all Frank asked for. Beanies was used to exchanging "favors" with other men (and he believed Frank was a fellow man), but he came to regret it once he learned Boon County's most reputable (and only) architect and the creepy sweaty sewer man with five kajillion diseases were one and the same. Hey, he didn't get out much. How was he supposed to know these things?
Regardless. Beanies assessed the room Frank had worked his magic on. It was like nothing had ever happened. In fact, the room was spic and span. Privately, a tiny part of Beanies was impressed. But this part was suppressed by the rest of Beanies, who was a jerk who didn't appreciate or acknowledge anyone's hard work. "I see you finally accomplished the repairs. Took you long enough…"
Frank's tail wagged as he smiled a near-toothless smile. Another satisfied customer. "We done it! Can *koff* Frank get the kiss now?"
Beanies' lips curled back as Frank presented his clammy white forehead, covered in sweat and grease and unknown filthy, diseased microbes. He backed up, unwilling to plant his lips on such a dirty surface. His eyes darted around the room, searching for an outcome that wouldn't lead to his body touching Frank's.
If this was a cartoon, a lightbulb would have gone off over his head. "Hey, I just had an ingenious idea!"
Beanies dodged Frank's attempts at a kiss and sidled over to a side of the room blocked by a rung curtain, pushing it aside to reveal a dentist's chair with straps. The chair had several unnerving brown stains spattering the clinical blue padding. There was a desk next to the chair, several sharp surgical instruments carelessly scattered on its surface. A few cages were on the shelf adjacent to the wall, the cats inside of them having been drugged with anesthetics and various other concoctions to shut them up while Frank worked. Only now were they beginning to wake, growling and hissing and mewling in fright at the sight of Beanies. The doctor grinned, his eyes not on Frank, but on the strange lump attached to Frank's back.
"What's say I extend the offer and you become my experiment, just for the night? I'll pay you extra in even more kisses! And I promise I won't use the electric clamps… or the experimental treatments… or the Judas cradle… "
Beanies' stretched smile made his face look thin, like he was wearing a hide of skin over his flesh. Frank could see Beanies' gums, pink and wet and scary.
"Uh…"
Despite Frank's general level of intelligence, he knew he couldn't trust that offer for a second. He slowly started backing away and towards the door behind him.
Beanies' glasses glinted in the light as he continued grinning that too-wide grin of his. The clopping of boots on tiled floors echoed in the room as Beanies walked forward with every step Frank took back. Sweat began running further down Frank's body.
The door was very close. He knew he had to go for it.
"FRANKHASTOGOBYEBYE!!!"
He zipped out of the door as fast as his stubby legs could take him, running like his life was on the line, which it always was when you were in the presence of Thomas A. Beanies. The doctor watched Frank's fleeing form like a hawk through the open door, his wicked smile now replaced by teeth, gritted in anger. He only withdrew and closed the door once Frank was completely out of sight.
"We're done!!!"
Butch laid the filthy mag he has been flipping through down as he hauled himself off his shitty lawn chair, staring at the finished result. His hideout had been unfit for residing in after a pipe in the abandoned building he had been squatting in burst. He was genuinely considering sleeping in the dumpster to protect himself from the cold until Frank had arrived, seemingly drawn to the wreckage like a moth to flame. Regardless of Butch's personal feelings on the sewer man (and there were a lot of vulgar insults he could sling his way), Frank did a good job, and Butch wasn't about to (internally) deny that. So he just kept his mouth shut as Frank hobbled up to him, tail wagging, desperate for a compliment.
Butch scoffed, turning his gaze away from Frank. "Whatever. Thanks."
He was about to turn around and duck back into the hideout when he heard Frank speak. "Wait! *hff*… You gots to pay us!"
Butch looked back. Fuck, Frank remembered the payment. He was trying to walk away and hope that Frank was too stupid to remember. Evidently, he wasn't.
Butch scowled. "What would you even use that shit for? You'd probably just spend it on drugs, anyway." Butch spent a lot of his money on drugs. This is what's known in the psychology playbook as "projection".
"…Money?" Frank tilted his head to the side. "Frank doesn't want money, we want kisses!"
Butch made a sound like a dying seagull. "W-huh?"
Frank looked at him expectantly. His face formed into a nervous pout. "Butch'll give us the kiss, right?"
He fluttered his short eyelashes to punctuate his sentence.
Butch's lips curled in revulsion as he assessed Frank. Who the hell did this guy think he was? "What're you, a queer?"
Frank looked confused. "What?"
"I said, are you a homo or what?"
Frank looked around nervously, sweating faster. "We're human! We're *koff* human! We have lots of human partses to prove it!"
Butch grimaced as he took a step away from Frank. Pale skin, shaky body, the constant huffing and sweating… this guy was too far up the asshole of a crack addiction to even be sentient. Who knows when he'd be back, begging for his next "fix"? After all, a "kiss" could be some cracked-up druggie's euphemism for some blow or whatever. Butch wasn't tempted to share his own supply. Frank needed to be sent a message.
And with that, Butch's lips curled up into an evil grin. "Well, if you want a "kiss", then fine. I'll hit you up on that."
Frank perked up, tail wagging with glee. "You'll really give *huff* us a kiss?!"
"Yep. Right in the kisser. Just close your eyes, weirdo."
Frank smiled wide, shutting his eyes as tightly as possible at Butch's request. And as he waited for Butch to kiss his cheek, Butch clenched his fist and let it fly.
"We're done!"
Baby Jack found it difficult to tear his eyes away from the TV, which was currently broadcasting a highly-anticipated pro wrestling match between two superstar wrestlers. With much regret, he hit pause on the TV remote and walked out of the living room to see what Frank was up to. Hopefully it wouldn't take too long and the broadcast wouldn't automatically start playing.
After most of the shelves had come tumbling down after an infrastructure incident (not at all helped by the horde of strays in their shack, or the Nickel family's hoarding problems), Baby Jack had pulled himself out of the wreckage and, after some asking, figured out Frank's address and asked him for help rebuilding his home. Thankfully Nona wasn't caught in the crash, mainly because she was still stuck in the basement. Had been for days now. But the thought of rescuing her with Frank's help had slipped Baby Jack's mind because he was so focused on the primary problem at hand.
Anyway, Frank had done wonders. The shelves were all in place, screws and nails securing them tightly. One of the house's broken beams had been replaced, the wood good as new.
Baby Jack was in awe at the sight. "Woooah! Everything's all fixed up now!"
Frank grinned a toothless smile out of pride, but also from the compliment. Helping others like this made him feel good.
Baby Jack then ducked over to the beaten-up cash register, opening it and digging through the change. "So, how much is it? 'Cause I dunno the cost of all this, so I'll just grab whatever we've got…"
Frank looked a little confused as he attempted to peer over to where Baby Jack was. "Oh, Frank doesn't need moneys…"
Baby Jack stopped digging his grubby fingers through the cash tray, instead looking up with a confused expression on his face. "But everyone needs money! At least, that's what Nona said."
"Oh, well… Fran— *koff* Frank doesn't… need money! We want a kiss! That'll be enough, and we'll feel so happy on our insides!"
Baby Jack stiffened before looking up at Frank. His hands balled into fists as he assessed the man above him, who was looking down with a nervous, but genuine, smile on his face, breathing heavily as a result of their conversation.
Frank had very little understanding of social implications. He did not understand what others may think of a sweaty homeless man asking a little boy for a kiss, because to him the gesture was purely one of platonic affection, as well as his personal form of currency. There were no nefarious undertones to his request whatsoever.
Baby Jack did understand social implications (as well as a child can), because he knew how you should never let others touch you in a place or in a way that makes you feel uncomfortable, and that you should get a trusted adult to help you in a situation like this. Baby Jack had also watched many sports programs, and knew the weaknesses of the flesh, both from his own self-inflicted injuries and from how many injuries the players in his programs received. And from this he knew the groin was one of the most vulnerable areas of the human body. And most important of all, Baby Jack believed himself to be a superhero.
And that is why Baby Jack ran up to Frank, screamed "STRANGER DANGER!" and brought his foot up with as much force as he could muster, hitting Frank in the, as he would euphemistically describe it, "little brownies".
As Frank dropped to the floor and started silently crying and wheezing in agony, Baby Jack attempted to roll him out of the door to the shack (with little success) while simultaneously cheering Nona on to call 9/11.
Eventually, Frank rolled out of his own volition and spent several minutes clutching himself in pain outside Jack's Shack.
"We're done."
After an altercation involving several unruly customers, a hole had been bust into one of the walls of P-Mart. Tracy wasn't religious, but several "Gods" were included in her internal thanks that the repairs weren't coming out of her paycheck.
Unfortunately, her manager had sent over a hobo to do the repairs. It wasn't like Tracy had any prejudice against the homeless (which is what she told herself), but Frank looked gross, smelled gross, and acted gross. Tracy could have sworn that whenever she looked at him during his repairs, she saw him picking his nose and eating the boogers. This is why she made an effort to try to ignore him, instead taking one of the many magazines she had stockpiled under the desk and pretending that she was reading them.
Back to the present, Tracy looked up from the health magazine she had been paging through. "Oh. Good for you."
Silence reigned in the halls of P-Mart, with Frank staring awkwardly at Tracy, who was currently flipping through the pages of her magazine with an angry look on her face. Evidently, she didn't like what she was reading.
Eventually, she cottoned on to the fact that Frank hadn't left yet, and tilted her eyes up to look over her magazine. "You're still here?"
"Yes," Frank blurted out, all too abruptly, "we need to be paid before we can go."
"Payment is the job of the management. I'm just an employee, sir." Tracy flicked her eyes back down to the magazine, grimacing as her eyes skimmed over an article that was evidently not to her taste.
"But we need a kiss before we can leave! You promised!"
"We're not giving out payment on site…"
It took Tracy a second to process Frank's words. When she did, she slammed her magazine down with a disgusted look in her eyes. "That's sexual harassment, sir, and I don't have to take it!"
Whipping out a broom from underneath the desk, Tracy spun it around like a bo staff before whacking Frank with it. Frank yelped as bristles met head, rushing away and towards the exit as fast as he could.
As he approached the doors, he grabbed the handles and attempted to pull. No luck. He pulled harder. No result. He pulled so hard on his third attempt that his legs gave out and he landed on his back.
Tracy sighed as she watched the hobo struggle to pull himself back up. "It's a push door."
Frank, who had managed to successfully roll over and get back on his feet, wheezed with exertion as he pushed the doors to P-Mart open. He slipped out and ran in the direction of his manhole as the door closed.
Tracy glowered and put the broom back under the desk, sighing as she picked up the magazine she seemed to have a complex relationship with. "I wish everyone in this town wasn't a complete schizo… no offense to actual schizophrenics, of course."
Frank couldn't hear her final remark, as he was climbing down the rungs leading to the sewers.
"…We're done."
Frank wheeled out from under Tink's trailer. The floor had fallen in due to water damage, and he spent a long time fixing the pipes and insulation underneath. But now it was done. Unlike the other times, Frank was growing weary of asking for his usual reward. You'd think after getting punched in the face, kicked in the balls, and swatted with a broom he would have ended his quest for a kiss, but some lessons remained unlearned.
Tink, who had been watering the well cared for lawn, shut off the hose and traipsed over to Frank, an excited smile on his face. "Oooh, nicely done! I'll have to rebuild my uggo corner though, most of the kitties escaped when the floor gave out…"
Frank didn't really know how to respond to that, so he just huffed and got straight to the point. "Frank needs to be paid now."
Tink raised his perfectly-waxed eyebrows. "Oooh, straight to the point. I like it. Me-yow!" he joked. He reached into the back of his shorts that perfectly accented his figure and rummaged through his pink (like everything in his life was) purse, the clinking of coins audible. "Okay, how much did you say?"
"Frank doesn't take money! We said that!"
Tink looked back up at Frank. "Working for exposure? Oh, honey. I've been there, and it seems like a good idea in the moment, but then you're getting by on food stamps, and publishers never call you back, and—"
He noticed Frank's timid expression, like he wanted to say something but was too shy to spit it out. "So, if you're not getting paid in money…"
"We want kisses for payment." Frank revealed, gesturing to his sweat-slick forehead. "But nobody's given it to us…"
Tink, who previously had been sympathetic to Frank, was now looking at him with a disgusted expression on his face. "Hey, bub! Only one face gets to touch these lips, and it's my wife's! And occasionally my fur babies, too! So get out!"
Tink turned the hose to Frank and switched the valve on. Frank flinched as he was hit with a harsh spray of cold water. He may have yelped a bit too, but other than that it did very little to him. Frank, who lived in the sewer, was used to gross and cold water, so it didn't make him run away like Tink had hoped.
The two just stood there for a while, both frowning for dissimilar reasons. Finally, Tink spoke up again.
"Look, can you just go? My wife doesn't need to see you icking up the lawn or whatever. Look, I'll even shut off the water."
Tink did as he said he would do. And with an expression on his face that was akin to a sad pug, Frank walked away, leaving a trail of dirt-infested water as he did so.
"…We're… *huff* …done..."
There was a silence. And then, from a large and bloody cardboard box in the dank alleyway, a figure emerged. It was green. It was covered in bandages. Flies were swarming it, only to be shooed away by the fact that the figure was swatting them away. It was a zombie.
Organ Grinder looked up sluggishly, staring at what his fellow hobo zombie had built for him. "Oh?"
The built thing in question was a pipe, designed for easy cat transport across Boon County. It was what was hot these days, and everyone wanted one. Frank, being considerate, built one for his undead neighbor at his request.
"So, uh…" Organ Grinder coughed harshly, a tonsil stone flying free from his mouth and onto Frank's leg as he did so. Then he wiped his mouth. "What's the cost?"
Frank grimaced. All of the other times had not gone well, and the lesson about kissing others was finally starting to set in. But it hadn't fully nestled into his brains. One last request could make or break everything.
"Frank wants… a kiss from you."
"A kiss?" Organ Grinder didn't look disgusted, far from it. He looked excited. "Oh, I haven't kissed anyone since… uh…" A confused expression dotted his face, only to be erased as a perverse grin crept up on his face at the idea of a smooch. "My lips are a little scabby, but they're still kiss-worthy. Let's get it on!"
Frank felt a little uneasy about accepting payment from Organ Grinder. This is what's called "self-preservation instinct", but Frank wouldn't know that. So he disregarded his hesitations and leaned in closer to the zombie, this time keeping his eyes open so he'd know if the other was about to throw a punch. Organ Grinder grinned with glee and leaned in as well.
Dry, rotten lips touched Frank's face. The sensation of scabby skin made him shudder, but he kept it in for his own sake. A kiss is a kiss, even if the kisser was really weird.
Then a new sensation occurred. The lips opened up, and something hard and dull prodded at his face. The prod rapidly turned into pain as teeth sunk into Frank's pale cheek, digging in and attempting to break the skin.
Frank, with a shout, pushed the zombie off of him. The biter tumbled onto the dirt.
Frank could feel himself starting to cry. "Wh— why…?"
Organ Grinder grinned shamelessly and hungrily, disregarding Frank's tears. "I can't help myself! You taste great! Like a cold cut!"
The bite mark on Frank's cheek stung like hell, and even if he wasn't sure what a cold cut was, he didn't appreciate the comparison. There was no way in hell he was letting this happen. He wasn't about to let his body get eaten! He worked so hard to find the itchy man!
Frank did what he did best and turned tail. Organ Grinder cried out, holding his hand out in desperate hope that his meal would return. "Wait! Come back! You're delicious!"
But it was too late, because Frank had turned round the alley's corner and was gone.
After these experiences, Frank decided that he was done with kisses. From now on, he only wanted cats for payment. And he only accepted them in advance! He was happy with this arrangement, he supposed. Less pain involved. He understood now that nobody wanted to kiss him, and he'd never get those kisses. It made him sad. He really wanted it, but nobody seemed to want him. But despite those disastrous previous attempts at getting the kisses, people still sought his services. Being Boon County's only architect helped in that regard.
Anyway, he was helping the cat lady with a fourth floor. She made Frank happy. She listened to him and didn't call him any mean names. When he got a new body after the old one gave out, she even let him call her mommy. Sometimes when he did it, it made him forget his old mommy, still in space, refusing to visit.
Frank attempted to snap out of his thoughts as he hammered the last nail into the wooden flooring. Thinking of his mommy made him cry. He could already feel tears coming to his eyes. He couldn't be crying, he had an important job to do. Standing up, he observed the new room and nodded in satisfaction at the sight. Even with a new body, he'd still got it.
Just as he was about to head home in silence, he heard the creaking of floorboards. It was the cat lady, standing in the doorway. She was wearing a plain, off-pink nightdress. A sleep mask was on her forehead. Her limp hair had been pulled loosely into curlers. Her eyes were on him. She blinked slowly, as if she was going to fall asleep at any moment.
Frank started to sweat out of worry. "Did Frank wake you up? We're sorry."
"No, you didn't. It's hard to sleep in a house with so many cats, and besides…" she trailed off. "Sometimes it's hard to sleep in general."
A dark cat with multiple deformities approached from the darkness behind Maggie before meowing loudly, wanting food. The cat lady's eyelids drooped. "Like so. Shoo, you."
Maggie prodded it away with her foot as it cried out for attention, and then closed the door on it. Behind it, the cat meowed even louder. Sounds of scraping outside of the door were heard. For a second, Frank thought he saw a strange expression flicker across the other's face. But it was gone after she turned to face him.
Usually he left undetected after a job well done. It meant a smaller window of opportunity to be hurt. But here they were, together. The cat lady noticed Frank was nervous to be in the same room as her and smiled.
Maggie's smile was tired. Her sallow, stitched skin looked too big for her face. She looked older than a woman of her age should be. But nonetheless, she was smiling, staring down at Frank.
"Thank you, sweetie. For a job well done." And she leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.
For what felt like a minute, Frank stood there, processing the simple gesture of affection, one that was denied at every opportunity by the people around him. He hadn't even asked for it. She just gave it to him. Like a mommy would.
Frank couldn't help it. The tears that he thought were receding started to pour down his cheeks as he started sniffling.
Maggie sounded worried. "Frank?"
He couldn't take it anymore. The dam on his emotions broke. He started sobbing in full view of Maggie, Bringing his gloved hands to his face to prevent her from seeing his crying face.
Maggie stared in worry. "What's wrong? Did… did I do something?"
Frank tried looking away. "O-our mommy… *hic* never gave us hugs or kisses… W-we were so lonely, 'c-cause… nobody else gave us kisses either… B-but *sniff* you did! And it makes Frank so sad and happy, and w-we don't *sob* even know what to saay-hey-haay…"
Frank's sobs rendered his voice nearly illegible. Maggie could only barely make out his wavering words through his tears. She stood still, hands in front of her, grasping on to nothing. There was a strange look in her eyes. As if she was looking into a distant memory.
Finally, she stepped closer, cautiously, and drew him closer into her. Frank nestled his head into Maggie's warm chest, her gentle embrace provided the comfort of a mother, something he was so glad to finally have. His crying was slowing down as Maggie's hands rubbed soothing circles into his back.
And as Frank hiccuped into her nightdress like a child would, Maggie couldn't help but get a nauseatingly familiar feeling within her. A feeling that could only be described as one of déjà vu.