Lights, Camera, Action, or A Mix Thereof.

When Gerard came back four hours later, Frank was still in the massage chair, but a few things had changed. He was now shirtless, clutched a bag of Cheetos and held a stuffed Serta sheep underneath one arm.

“Are you still here?” he groaned.

“Mmhm,” Frank muttered, sucking cheese dust off his fingers.

“Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to put your shirt back on.”

“Oh, so you just refuse to address me by name now?” Frank snapped, sitting up in his chair.

“I don’t even know your name!” Gerard yelled, yanking on his hair. He could feel his blood pressure going up astronomically.

“Read the name tag!” Looking back down from where he’d been praying to God to strike him down, Gerard noticed that Frank had a name tag pinned to the inner thigh of his jeans. He leaned forward and squinted to read it.

“You want in my pants, don’t you?”

“No!”

“You’re staring at my crotch, so obviously you do,” Frank replied, crossing his arms over his bare chest and smirking.

“Yeah, right. I’m trying to read your name tag.”

“Nah, you want in my pants. You want to make me see stars! You want to lick every single crumb off my body and then start moving a little lower and oh God! You want in my pants, don’t you?”

Gerard couldn’t deny it. He felt like he was under the influence of witchcraft, because the more he stared at Frank’s crotch, the more he wanted in his pants.

“No!” he forced out, tearing his eyes away.

“You suck at lying. And you suck other things. Swallower.”

“Shut up,” Gerard mumbled, unable to stop the blush that was spreading across his cheeks and down his neck.

“Harassment!” Frank screamed at the top of his lungs before shoveling more snacks into his mouth. His pants were lightly covered with the orange dust.

“I’m not even touching you,” Gerard sighed, wincing at the looks he was receiving from customers. This wasn’t right; he hated being the center of attention and he wanted to just go crawl under one of the show beds and hide from this odd, exotic, incredibly attractive yet annoying young man.

“Yes, that’s the problem. I’m trying to get you fired so I can fuck you.”

“Well, that’s a wonderful plan. By the way, what does it say on your name tag?”

“Well, you were already staring at my crotch so why don’t you just read it?” Gerard leaned forward a bit more but, just as he realized it was a trap, his mouth was full of denim as Frank forced his head into his crotch.

“Oh, that feels nice,” Frank said, exaggerating a moan. Gerard tried to yell but only made a muffled sound. He tried to pull his head back up but Frank shoved it back down, continuing to sound like a really bad porn flick. Their back and forth continued for a couple of minutes until Frank abruptly let go, sending Gerard tumbling onto his ass.

“So, did you read it?” Frank asked casually.

“Yes, your name is Frank and sheep and chairs named Gerard turn you on. Wait... did you name them after me?”

“Yes. The sheep because you won’t cuddle with me and the chair because you won’t give me a massage.”

“Well, alright then,” Gerard said, shrugging. “I’m going to return when it’s closing time and I expect you to be long gone.”

“Don’t count on it.”

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

Five hours later, as the last customers left the store, Frank was still sitting in the chair.

“Frank, it’s closing time now,” Gerard sighed, having changed from the uniform shirt into a black tee and hoodie. “You have to leave.”

“Can I go home with you?” As much as Gerard had the urge to say yes, he shook his head.

“No.”

“Okay,” Frank sighed, looking much like a child denied entrance to the cookie jar. He rose from the chair and held the stuffed sheep up to his face.

“I’ll miss you Gerard,” he whispered before slamming the stuffed animal’s face against his own, making out with it furiously. Spit flew everywhere and Gerard just stared blankly. After Frank had sufficiently covered the animal in a thick layer of saliva, he patted it and sat it down gently in the chair.

“So, are you ready to get out?” Gerard asked, eying the sheep with mild disgust. Frank thought for a moment, staring up at the ceiling.

“No,” he said, dropping down to his knees in front of Gerard and reaching for the zipper of his pants.

“Frank!” Gerard yelled, pushing Frank away. “Jesus! First, you make out with a fucking sheep and now this!”

“Well, the only reason I did that was because I can’t do it to you!” he protested, following Gerard towards the exit. All of a sudden, the urges that had been brewing all day hit their climax and he spun around, grinning wildly. He didn’t care if it was witchcraft or some kind of weird drug that was being dispersed through the heaters in the store, but he knew that he wanted to kiss Frank.

“Who says you can’t?” Yanking Frank towards him, he began to kiss up and down his neck.

“Oh no sir, I want to do the work,” Frank said, pushing up against the glass wall of the entry door. Unexpectedly, the glass spidered and then broke, sending both of them tumbling onto the cold concrete sidewalk. Frank landed on top of Gerard and he grinned down at him, face threatening to split apart.

“Well, would you look at that?” he purred, nuzzling his nose against Gerard’s cheek.

“Fags!” They both looked up to see a elderly woman tottering by, pointing her cane at them. Now, this wasn’t the first time that Gerard had heard such language directed towards him and he brushed it off. Old people were stuck in their ways and there was no point in lecturing them.

Frank, however, did not look at the situation the same way.

“The correct term is homosexuals, you fucking biddy!” he shrieked, standing up. “Why aren’t you in a nursing home? You’re too old!” He took off after her, roaring like a lion.

“Frank, get back here!” Gerard yelled, getting up as well. As he caught up with her, the old lady turned around and whacked Frank square in the knee with her cane.

“Oww!” he cried, falling to the sidewalk as she hurried off. Gerard groaned and knelt down beside him, checking the knee to see if it was bleeding.

“Are you okay?” he asked, deciding that it would only bruise.

“No, I think I’m dying,” Frank wheezed, leaning against Gerard. He rolled his eyes but pulled Frank up to his chest, wrapping one arm around his waist.

“You’re not dying, everything is-”

Screech! Bang!

“Gerard... did the old lady just get hit by a car?” Frank mumbled into Gerard’s chest.

“No Frank, she didn’t. She is not lying on the ground, there’s absolutely no blood and I am not horrified.”

“You really do suck at lying,” Frank commented, quickly springing back up. “How can I marry you under these conditions?”

“Marriage? I’ve known you nine hours!”

“And I’ve wanted you from the instant I saw you.” Gerard rolled his eyes and began to walk the opposite way from the car crash, shaking his head.

“Gee?” Frank asked, running to catch up to him.

“Yeah?”

“I’m cold,” he whimpered, snuggling the best as he could as he walked alongside Gerard.

“That is because you’re still shirtless,” Gerard said, rubbing Frank’s smooth back. His shirt was indeed still missing and not even Frank himself could remember where it had gone.

“Can I have your sweater then?”

“No... fine!” he groaned when Frank gave him the most pathetic pair of puppy eyes he had ever seen on a human. He reluctantly unzipped it, beginning to shiver as soon as the cold air touched his bare arms. Frank immediately wrapped it around himself. It went down to his knees, looking like a rather unique dress.

“Now I’m warm!” he squealed with delight, hugging Gerard. “I think I’m going to go home now, so toodles!” He promptly licked Gerard’s cheek and skipped across the parking lot, flailing his arms.

“See you tomorrow!” he yelled back before disappearing across the road.

“I’m sure you will.”