Did We All Fall Down?

*Gerard's POV*

It was nine in the morning as I sat typing at Frank's computer. (I had stayed over to take care of him. Of course the guys had given me a knowing look, but my intentions were totally innocent. We weren't planning on having sex anytime soon, besides it's not like we could right now anyway; Frank was so banged up from the accident.)

People magazine recently printed up an article about us which has about 2% fact and 98% bullshit. Here are the facts:

I began to type in the news section of our official website.

Frank was in a car accident, and his doctor was concerned about liver damage but not because he's destroyed himself with alcohol. When the car slammed into the tree his airbags didn't go off immediately so the steering wheel smashed into him (causing the damage the doctor was worried about). But he's going to be fine.
And Mikey, Ray, Bob, and I are not (and were not) mad at Frank. We never had an argument or any of the other things stated in the magazine.
Our lawyers recommend we sue for slander, and we may or may not take that course of action.

I smiled, the mention of lawyers was a nice touch in case Isabella Fiori came snooping around again. Bob had given them a quick call telling them the situation, and right off the bat they had suggested a lawsuit against the magazine. So, not exactly an idle threat. On the other hand, none of us really wanted to have to deal with all the paperwork and legal mess, so we weren't positive as to where we stood. For now, I would keep the message vague enough to give us the leeway to go either way.

I can tell you I was really pissed when this first came out but now, as long the fans (you guys) know the truth we don't really care.

Thanks for being the best fans in the world and always supporting us.

Love,
Gerard

"Gee!" Frank called from his bedroom, just as I finished typing.

"Coming!" I shouted. I entered his room and saw him lying in bed, his hair all tousled from sleep. I smiled, he looked adorable.

"Morning. Can you help me into my chair?" he asked.

"Of course," I said. I quickly walked over to his bed, about to pull back the covers;
"I hope you're decent under there..." I said. He smirked. I pulled the covers off (a little nervously), he was wearing a giant plain black tee-shirt and black-and-red striped boxers. I laughed.

"Nice boxers," I remarked.

"Yup, I always get compliments on these," he joked, trying to make me jealous. I gave him a suspicious look, my eyes slit, face completely straight. Then I cracked up again, and he joined me. I lifted him and placed him in his chair.

"Gracias, Senor," he said as he began to roll out of the room.

"Wait a minute, what about my payment?" I asked indignantly.

He halted and turned himself around. I strode over to him, got on my knees and planted a kiss on his unsuspecting lips. I could feel him start to smile, then kiss back.
Slowly, he began to run his tongue over my bottom lip. I parted my lips slightly, inviting him in. He didn't deepen the kiss, as I had expected. Instead he pulled away, licking his own lips.

"I'm becoming a woman as I say this but, let's go slow, be old-fashioned. I mean, I-I've loved you pretty much since I've known you. A part of me always fantasized about us getting together like they did in those black and white movies, classic. All romantic..." he blushed and looked at his knees. I understood perfectly.

"I get it," I said softly. "But wait, who's the chick? You know, the one with the perfectly permed hair and the fabulous gown?" I asked playfully. Frank looked up at me and smiled.

"Gee, you're the woman!" he said, as though it were so incredibly obvious.

"Oh.. really?" I said slowly.

"Of course! I mean, come on, who's the first one to burst into song, prancing about?" he reasoned.

"But - but... eh, you have a point, Mr. Cary Grant," I said, defeated. We both grinned at each other. I turned his chair around and brought him into the living room.

"I'll be back, bathroom," he said.

"Um, do you need help... situating yourself?" I asked awkwardly. I was willing to do it -- I loved him -- I just didn't want to embarrass him.

"No, it's okay, now that I have the chair I think I can manage to move to, um..." he giggled nervously and wheeled himself down the hall and into the bathroom.

"Okay, but if you do need help, I'm right here!" I called to him.

"Yup, I know," he called back.

I walked into the kitchen and set myself to work preparing a fancy breakfast for the two of us. I was really lucky that the fridge was stocked with everything I needed and more. I heard Frank coming back down the hall, towards me.

"Don't come in the kitchen! Go to the living room or something. I wanna surprise you. I'm making breakfast! And all I'm sayin' is that it'll be fancier than some cereal in a bowl. Shoo!" I warned.

"I feel - like you're - re-rejecting me!" he said between fake sobs. He turned the chair around and headed the other way, into the living room. I ran after him, swooped down and gave him a hug from behind.

"Never, Baby." I whispered in his ear. He turned his head so he could kiss me on the cheek. I moved just enough so he landed on my lips instead. I could feel his soft lips curve into a smile against mine once again.

We separated, not really wanting to (but the gurgling of our stomachs compelled us). I returned to the kitchen and he rolled into the living room. I could hear the TV turn on: he was watching cartoons. I smiled and sighed.

Forty-five minutes later (approximately twelve hungry stomach growls) I carried two plates heaped with bacon, eggs, and mounds of pancakes into the living room. I hurried back to the kitchen to get two glasses of milk and a pitcher of syrup.

"Mmm, this looks verrrry good," Frank grinned. Before we started I pulled him out of his chair and onto the couch, so we could sit as close together as possible. For the rest of the morning we just ate like pigs, watched cartoons, and snuggled (yes, snuggled, we are indeed manly men).

I felt happier than I had in a long time, just holding Frankie close to me.