Lights, Camera, Action, or A Mix Thereof.

To Gerard's complete and utter surprise, working at the movie theatre turned out to not be that bad. Although he still couldn't find any benefit in the polyester uniform, things really weren't that horrible. The customers tended to be a bit nicer than those at the furniture store and he didn't have to try and persuade people to buy something they didn't need. That had been one of the things Gerard had truly disliked about working at the furniture store; he hated lying to people. At the movie theatre, he didn't have to worry about that; he just had to dole out the proper amount of soda and popcorn. It was menial, repetitive work but... he liked it.

Frank was quite enjoying Gerard's job at the movie theatre as well. He had made a habit of sneaking into each new film that came out; whether it was a cheesy horror flick, the new animated kid's movie or a shoot-em-up, he was watching it. The manager never noticed; indeed, he was rarely there. In his first month of working at the concession stand, Gerard had seen the manager a grand total of once, and that was on the very first day. Therefore, Frank came and went on a daily basis, notepad in hand. He had begun sending his movie reviews in to a local paper and some of them were actually getting published, which gave him and Gerard a little extra money. In addition to all this, there was something else Frank loved about Gerard's job.

He loved ripping that hideous uniform off his body the instant he walked through the front door... or at lunch, if they could risk it... or in Gerard's car if they were on the way home. Really, anytime Gerard had the uniform on, Frank couldn't help but make an effort to get it off of him.

Despite the fact that it was eleven AM on a Wednesday, Frank was trying to think of a way to get Gerard alone and away from the concession stand. He had already seen all the movies playing in the theatre but he was too bored to consider going home... well, Gerard's place, but he hadn't been to his own apartment in nearly a month, so he no longer considered it his home. They hadn't quite moved in together yet; neither of them had yet got the incident of last month out of their mind and, even though Frank was back on his pills, both were still wary about another slip up. Nonetheless, Frank knew that it was only a matter of time before he moved all his stuff into Gerard's place. All of his clothes were there already.

But back to the plan at hand. Frank was seated on a hard plastic bench across from the concession stand, peering at Gerard over the top of a magazine that he had already read no less than four times. The flow of customers was a slow trickle, mostly made up of groups of women with their toddlers and the occasional young couple or teenagers skipping school. There were three people behind the counter, although he knew that only two could handle the order; hell, with the amount of energy that Crackhead had, she could probably do it by herself. All he had to do was come up with a plan to get Gerard to take an early lunch.

Frank shifted in his seat, adjusting his jeans accordingly. He ran various schemes through his head, trying to find one that was plausible. Finally, he found one that he just knew would work and he approached the concession stand, trying not to give away his real intentions.

"Gerard, do you think you could get off a little bit earlier?" he asked, biting his lip to hide the grin that threatened to explode onto his lips. "There's something wrong with the car and I want you to look at it." Gerard glanced briefly at Crackhead, who seemed to have the place under control, and whipped his visor off, shoving it into his back pocket.

"I deserve an early lunch," he said, sliding around the counter and taking Frank's hand. "What's wrong with the car?" Frank paused for a moment; he actually hadn't thought this far ahead in his plan.

"Erm, I went to drive over to Best Buy and it started to squeak," he stammered. Just holding Gerard's hand was getting him even more turned on and he was glad that his sweater was just long enough to hide his crotch. "And you know I know nothing about cars and you took autoshop and-"

"Frankie, calm down!" Gerard chuckled, stopping and putting his hands on Frank's shoulders. "I'm sure there's just a part loose, okay?" Frank smiled, feeling his pants get even tighter. This was just getting absurd; if Gerard didn't move his (wonderful) ass, Frank was just going to have to jump him in front of the movie theatre and he had a feeling that would get them both arrested for indecent exposure or something.

"Frank, where in the hell did you park the car?" Gerard asked, scanning the parking lot and not seeing it.

"Erm... around back?" Frank replied, feeling his cheeks blush. Gerard looked at him with one eyebrow raised. He had the suspicious feeling that there wasn't exactly something wrong with the car but nonetheless, he let Frank lead him around back, where there was nobody around.

"So, you say that it's squeaking?" he asked skeptically, taking a discreet glance at Frank's crotch. His suspicions were correct.

"Yeah, squeaking." Gerard couldn't help but smirk; he had an idea of his own that he thought would be quite funny. When they reached the car, he popped the hood and looked inside. Everything looked like it was in order, but he felt like being an asshole, even if just for a moment.

"How long has it been squeaking?" he asked Frank, who was leaning against the driver's side door, trying not to fidget.

"It just started when I drove over to Best Buy," Frank muttered, discreetly adjusting himself. Even in those ridiculous polyester pants, he couldn't help but stare at Gerard's ass, which was not helping his situation. Gerard bit his lip to stop his chuckling and started wriggling various parts around, seeing if any were actually loose.

"It might have been the carburetor," Frank said, listing the only car part he could remember off of the top of his head. A snort came from Gerard's throat and he hid it with a fake cough; Frank was so cute when he was trying to hide how horny he was.

"Maybe," he asked, hiding more snickering. "It might be leaking oil though." Frank bit back a groan; he didn't think Gerard was this oblivious and he was actually in physical pain. He wriggled a few more parts around for good measure, then slammed the hood, grinning.

"Well, I have no idea what it could be," he said. "Wanna go grab lunch?" Frank couldn't take it anymore; he grabbed Gerard's collar and yanked him towards him, giving up on trying to hide his want.

"I want you in the back seat, now." Gerard gave up being oblivious and changed his grin to a smirk, running his hands down Frank's side.

"I can do that."

***

Thirty minutes later, Gerard and Frank were both ravenous, although this time it was for some food, not each other. There was a McDonald's not far up the road and nothing sounded better than a post-sex Big Mac. However, as Frank turned the key in the ignition, a frown settled itself on his face.

"Gerard?"

"Yeah?"

"The car won't start." For a few seconds, Gerard thought this was a ploy for round 2 (which he wouldn't have minded). However, when he saw the look on Frank's face, he saw only confusion.

"Fuck."