Status: Finished
Spontaneous
One Of One
Gerard opens the door to their apartment tentatively, pausing to listen for sounds of Frank wondering around the living room. The clatter of pots and pans, along with the low bubbling of sauce cooking on the stove and Frank humming along to whatever’s on the radio comes from the direction of the small kitchen.
Sucking in a deep breath, Gerard makes his way through their inner-city apartment to his boyfriend, dropping his keys on the counter and shrugging his jacket off. “Hey,” he greets quietly, wanting the moment when the younger man turns around to be delayed as much as possible.
“Bump into someone you knew at the store?” Frank asks, humour evident in his voice, “You were gone a while.”
“No, actually, I –” Gerard wrings his fingers nervously as he was interrupted, looking down at his feet.
“You got Sage! You’re an angle, Gee; I forgot to ask you for it.” Frank continues to look through the numerous herbs and spices, smiling, Gerard brought back from the store as asked.
Frank went about putting the newly bought items into the cupboard, dragging a chair over to stand on so he doesn’t have to stretch uncomfortably. Gathering the items in his arms, the small man began storing the herbs and spices. “You just going to stand there or – ” Frank cut himself off from teasing his boyfriend when catching sight of just what had caused him to take so long to return.
Gerard smiles nervously looking up at Frank’s shocked face. “What did you do?” The younger man asks, seemingly horrified at the new hair style his boyfriend was sporting. Dropping the objects in his arms onto the counter, Frank makes his way over to Gerard, arms outstretched to touch the hair.
“It’s not that bad, is it?” Gerard asks, “I mean, it didn’t turn out exactly the way I’d planned, but that always happens with hair, right?”
Reaching the older man, Frank’s fingers tangle in the bleached hair. Unlike the first time, there isn’t a drastic change in length. Frank’s forehead was creased, shaped eyebrows cast downwards towards his nose. “What made you do it?” He asked softly, raking back the blonde bangs obscuring Gerard’s eyes.
“Just wanted a change, I guess.” Gerard knows that Frank’s not as shallow as some of the guys he’s dated; nevertheless he still cares what his boyfriend thinks.
Frank stands toying with the taller man’s peroxide hair – carding his fingers through it, nails raking back over his scalp, mussing it forward then pushing it back – with a contemplative look in his eyes. After a loud exhale he says, “It’s going to take some getting used to.”
“Yeah, remember the pink?” Frank does remember waking up to a shrill scream coming from the direction of the bathroom, then hearing, “oh, don’t worry, I, shit, I just forgot,” the morning after Gerard came back from the hairdressers with strawberry hair. Low rumbles of laughter sound from both boys at the memory.
Frank rests his forehead against Gerard’s cheek, hands dropping from his hair to his neck, fingertips running over the smooth skin lightly. Gerard’s own hands find their way to his boyfriend’s slim hips, slipping under his shirt and dipping beneath the waistband of his – no, Gerard’s – jeans, which are far too lose. Raising his head, Frank places a chaste kiss to his cheekbone.
“Frankie, the food,” Gerard points out, catching sight of the violently bubbling pot.
“Oh yeah, shit,” Frank rushes to the stove and turns down the heat.
***
The next morning, Frank awakes to a girlish screech coming from the direction of the bathroom.
It’s nice to know some things never change.
Sucking in a deep breath, Gerard makes his way through their inner-city apartment to his boyfriend, dropping his keys on the counter and shrugging his jacket off. “Hey,” he greets quietly, wanting the moment when the younger man turns around to be delayed as much as possible.
“Bump into someone you knew at the store?” Frank asks, humour evident in his voice, “You were gone a while.”
“No, actually, I –” Gerard wrings his fingers nervously as he was interrupted, looking down at his feet.
“You got Sage! You’re an angle, Gee; I forgot to ask you for it.” Frank continues to look through the numerous herbs and spices, smiling, Gerard brought back from the store as asked.
Frank went about putting the newly bought items into the cupboard, dragging a chair over to stand on so he doesn’t have to stretch uncomfortably. Gathering the items in his arms, the small man began storing the herbs and spices. “You just going to stand there or – ” Frank cut himself off from teasing his boyfriend when catching sight of just what had caused him to take so long to return.
Gerard smiles nervously looking up at Frank’s shocked face. “What did you do?” The younger man asks, seemingly horrified at the new hair style his boyfriend was sporting. Dropping the objects in his arms onto the counter, Frank makes his way over to Gerard, arms outstretched to touch the hair.
“It’s not that bad, is it?” Gerard asks, “I mean, it didn’t turn out exactly the way I’d planned, but that always happens with hair, right?”
Reaching the older man, Frank’s fingers tangle in the bleached hair. Unlike the first time, there isn’t a drastic change in length. Frank’s forehead was creased, shaped eyebrows cast downwards towards his nose. “What made you do it?” He asked softly, raking back the blonde bangs obscuring Gerard’s eyes.
“Just wanted a change, I guess.” Gerard knows that Frank’s not as shallow as some of the guys he’s dated; nevertheless he still cares what his boyfriend thinks.
Frank stands toying with the taller man’s peroxide hair – carding his fingers through it, nails raking back over his scalp, mussing it forward then pushing it back – with a contemplative look in his eyes. After a loud exhale he says, “It’s going to take some getting used to.”
“Yeah, remember the pink?” Frank does remember waking up to a shrill scream coming from the direction of the bathroom, then hearing, “oh, don’t worry, I, shit, I just forgot,” the morning after Gerard came back from the hairdressers with strawberry hair. Low rumbles of laughter sound from both boys at the memory.
Frank rests his forehead against Gerard’s cheek, hands dropping from his hair to his neck, fingertips running over the smooth skin lightly. Gerard’s own hands find their way to his boyfriend’s slim hips, slipping under his shirt and dipping beneath the waistband of his – no, Gerard’s – jeans, which are far too lose. Raising his head, Frank places a chaste kiss to his cheekbone.
“Frankie, the food,” Gerard points out, catching sight of the violently bubbling pot.
“Oh yeah, shit,” Frank rushes to the stove and turns down the heat.
***
The next morning, Frank awakes to a girlish screech coming from the direction of the bathroom.
It’s nice to know some things never change.
♠ ♠ ♠
ConCrit is always appeciated :)