Lights, Camera, Action, or A Mix Thereof.

Gerard already hated his job and he hadn't even gotten out of the break room yet. Any hopes he'd had about the uniform looking somewhat decent had been completely dashed when he had stepped in front of the mirror, clad in his new polyester pants and shirt. The fabric made his skin itch, the pants were just the slightest bit too tight and the blue looked terrible against his pale skin. Even worst than the clothes themselves, however, was the stupid visor thing that he was required to wear on his head. Gerard felt like he was an obnoxious tourist, trying to fit in and looking like a complete and utter idiot.

But at least the job came with a discount. That was more than he could say about the furniture store.

His first day went by fairly uneventfully. It was a Tuesday, the least busiest day of the week, and so he spent nearly the entire day merely learning how to operate everything, from the cash register to the popcorn machine. In other words, it was boring as hell and, from the instant he stepped behind the counter, his stomach rumbled from the collective scents of popcorn and pizza and nachos. Gerard loved nachos and he had a feeling that by the end of his first month, the manager was going to have to rustle up a bigger pair of pants for him.

Not even Gerard's coworkers could spice things up. The man who was appointed with the 'laborious' task of training him seemed to be completely and utterly stoned. His eyes looked like they were perpetually half-lidded and every time Gerard attempted conversation, he responded in mono-syllables. The other person on duty was a girl with the exact opposite personality as... Quinn, or whatever his name was. If Quinn was stoned, she was strung out on cocaine. She practically attacked Gerard with questions, some of which were rather personal.

"So, do you have a girlfriend?"

"So, how old are you?"

"Do you have any tattoos?"

"Want to go out after this?"

Gerard quickly solved this problem.

"I'm gay."

Needless to say, Crackhead, as Gerard decided he would call her in lieu of learning her real name, shut the hell up.

The clock seemed to just inch by and, with few customers, Gerard thought that he was going to go insane on only his first day. That all changed at exactly six minutes after noon.

That's when Gerard saw Frank.

He had missed him coming in, probably because he was filling up an extra large popcorn for someone with a death wish but he turned around and suddenly, there he was, standing in front of the concession stand with a twenty in his hand. When their eyes locked, his body stiffened up and, for a moment, Gerard thought that he was going to turn around and bolt out of the theatre. However, a smile slowly grew on his face and he leaned on the counter, tucking the twenty back into his pocket.

"You were right," he said, biting his lip and looking over Gerard with his eyes.

"About what?"

"Those uniforms are fucking terrible.."

****************************************************************************

When Gerard got off at five, switching with the evening shift, Frank was sitting outside on a crumbling concrete bench, cigarette tucked into the corner of his mouth. He had been bouncing around the theatre all day, sneakily sliding from movie to movie while he waited for Gerard to finish his shift. He had seen the newest Johnny Depp film (which was surprisingly bad), the newest 3D cartoon (he was still wearing the glasses) and a chick flick, which he had cried at the end of (something that he was never going to tell anyone). He tried to keep his mouth set but he couldn't help it; as soon as Gerard was in front of him, he tossed his cigarette aside and practically jumped into his arms.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into Gerard's shoulder, inhaling the scent of his aftershave.

"You're sorry? I'm sorry," Gerard said, leaning his cheek on Frank's head. "I'm the one who was being an asshole, I'm the one who should have been more understanding."

"Yeah, but I shouldn't have stormed out."

"I should have stopped you."

"I should have..."

Gerard was too busy kissing Frank to let him get the rest of his words out. The evening crowd was starting to come around and Frank could hear someone say something very offensive about him being a certain kind of pirate. Under other circumstances, he probably would have come very close to getting charged with assault. However, when Gerard put his arms around his waist and pulled him closer, Frank relaxed. Who cared if some random fuckface had a problem with him being gay? It wasn't like he was ever going to see the guy again.

Nevertheless, he gave the guy the finger. When Frank pulled away, cheeks flushed, both him and Gerard were smiling, huge grins that looked like they might split their respective faces in half.

"We're all good?" Gerard said, brushing back Frank's hair.

"We're all good," Frank confirmed. After a moment, his eyes began to glint with mischief.

"Under one condition."

"What's that?"

"We go have makeup sex for the next two hours, followed by cuddling."

Gerard couldn't remember ever running as fast as he did after Frank said those words.