#26 - Teammates
#26 - Teammates
#26; Teammates
Christmas was the one time of the year Gerard really hated in the office. It was all Pete's fault, really, because being the boss (albeit not a very good one) he ordered mandatory fun and games for a week where Gerard would much rather be doing his brainwashing job.
Christmas was the time the office 'bonded', as Pete put it (aka an excuse to get in Gabe Saporta's pants, which, it had to be said, wasn't exactly difficult, given how many people had been in Gabe's pants). That meant traditional games like three-legged races, and stupid, invented, Wentz games like paired-night-orienteering-in-the-office.
Every year, all the names from Pete's department were put in a sparkly pink cowboy hat, and all the names from Frank's department were put in a hat they stole off Patrick. One name was chosen from each hat, and these people would be teammates for a whole week, taking part in whatever idiotic games Pete and Gabe had decided to come up with.
It was Monday, the fifteenth of December, the day of the choosing. Last year, Gerard had been paired with little Ryan Ross, which was awesome and terrible at the same time - awesome because they didn't exchange a word for the whole week, which was just how Gerard liked it, and terrible because Pete got it into his head that their silence meant they had a crush on each other.
This year, hopefully, would be a little better. Maybe Gerard would get paired with Gabe and could spill all of Pete's secrets. Maybe, even better, he would get paired with Mikey, his brother. In the four years they'd both been working under Pete and Frank's commands, they had never been paired together. Ever. Gerard was starting to suspect Pete had rigged it that way, but whenever he approached Pete about it he was met with innocent brown eyes and a mischievious smirk.
"Good luck," Ray said, clapping Gerard on the shoulder as they entered the building. Gerard knew Ray was hoping to get Mikey, and not just get Mikey, but Get Mikey. With capital letters.
"You too," Gerard muttered, following Ray down the corridor that led to their department, Dealing With Overseas Shitheads. Officially it was called International Relationships, but of course, that was not what it was.
The hallway that led to Gerard's office was already hung with tawdry Christmas decorations, and Gerard had no doubt that Pete had wheedled the janitor into giving him the skeleton key that allowed access to all the offices so he could string decoration up there too. His suspicions were confirmed as he walked into a room full of miniature Grinch and Scrooge toys.
"Pete," he called, sweeping a whole cluster of quite frankly evil-looking Scrooges off the table so he could put his briefcase down. "Pete, what the fuck?"
"This year, we decided to theme each office judging by their character," Pete grinned, appearing out of thin air at the door. "You're always miserable and moody at Christmas, so." He gestured at the toys.
"Thanks," Gerard said sarcastically, kicking the sea of figurines aside to create a path to his desk. "This must have cost you a fortune."
"A fortune well spent," Pete winked, and then he was gone. Gerard took in the wreckage that was once his office - fucking- seriously, did they really have to do this? First thing on a Monday morning? The Monday morning? - before deciding to clear it up after the meeting.
The meeting.
-
When Gerard pushed open the door to the meeting room, all of Frank's department (Frank, Gabe, Patrick, Ryan and Mikey), The Law Section (Gerard had no clue what their official name was) were already there, chatting animatedly amongst one another. Ray was there too, talking to Mikey, who raised an eyebrow at Gerard as he entered.
"Great," Gerard huffed, throwing himself into the chair opposite Frank Iero, who was gesturing wildly with his hands at Ryan, who frankly looked quite terrified. Gerard slouched down further in his chair, pretending not to be mesmerised by the way Frank's eyes lit up when he was talking about something he loved. Not to mention the way he smiled, so brilliantly, his teeth straight, white and perfect.
"This year," Pete said dramatically, jolting Gerard out of his daydream (he hadn't even noticed Bob, Brendon and Pete arriving). "This year, our teams are going to have names. So we have three hats - names, names, and names."
Clear as ever.
"So, team number one will consist of-" Pete rummaged around in the cowboy hat for a few seconds. "Bob, and..." He rummaged around in the hat they'd stolen off Patrick. "Trick!" Patrick blinked in surprise. He'd been paired with Brendon for the last three years, so no doubt he'd been expecting the eccentric homosexual again. "And you'll be called-" Pete picked a slip of paper out of the third hat - one, again, they'd obviously taken off an unhappy Patrick "-oh, ha, you're the Glittering Unicorn Vaginas."
Gerard spluttered. Bob, the manliest man that had ever manned on this earth, and Patrick, a shy but capable-of-throwing-bitch-diva-fits man, paired up in a team called the Glittering Unicorn Vaginas?
"Team two - Brendon, Ryan and you're Teabagging A Flamingo!"
"Great," Brendon muttered, hearing their name. "I'd rather be the unicorn vagina thing."
"I would say swap, but you're teabagging flamingos, so..." Patrick said, and Brendon shot him a glare.
"Team three - Gabe and me, and we're the- oh, we're the Flower Arranging Dog-Balls."
"Who even came up with these names?" Gerard demanded. "They're not remotely Christmassy."
"Who said they were gonna be, Grinch?" Pete grinned, reaching in to pick the next name. "Gerard, and-"
The moment of truth.
He either had a week of torture and hell ahead of him, or a bearable week. Either a week of bliss with someone he could actually comminicate with, or sheer horror with the boss from the other department whom Gerard had been quietly lusting over for the four years he'd worked at the company.
"-Frank," Pete finished, and Gerard groaned.
"So," Frank said, grinning at him from across the table. "A week of fun and games, eh?"
Not when you're added into the equation, Gerard thought, smiling weakly back as he tried to formulate an emergency strategy. He'd barely used up any of his sick/leave days this year, so maybe he could just...but then Frank wouldn't have a partner and it wouldn't be fair.
Maybe Ray would want to swap.
No, Ray had been trying for years to get Mikey (and Get Mikey) and it wasn't fair to take that off him. If it was anyone except Ray, sure, Gerard would have threatened, bribed, begged. But Ray deserved it.
Fuck. He would have to put up with a week of 'fun and games' with Frank Iero, object of all his fantasies for nearly the past half-decade.
"You're called," Pete said bossily, and Gerard had almost forgotten he was there, that anyone but Gerard and Frank was there, he had been too busy wallowing in his self-pity. "You're called the Jerk Off Sexy Llamas. Which leaves Ray and Mikey, and you're called I Fuck Sheep."
"I don't even want to fucking know where the inspiration for the names came from," Gerard muttered, sinking lower and lower into his chair, trying to ignore the way Frank giggled, and the way it didn't suit his deep voice at all, and desperately trying to ignore how it stirred something, deep in his stomach.
He was fucking fucked.
"Okay, so, get in your fucking teams, chicos," Gabe said, waving his arms about as if that enhanced his Spanish.
Gerard waited for Frank to slide over to the seat next to him that Ray had vacated.
"I can't wait to see what they've come up with this year," Frank mumbled to Gerard. "Let's hope it's not act-out-your-team-name." Gerard snorted inadvertantly, his hand flying to his mouth as soon as he realised. He felt a blush creeping up his cheeks, and swung his hair forward to act as a curtain and hide it. Fuck, of course he snorted in front of Frank, of all fucking people.
"This year, we thought that the most effective way to win was to get to know your teammate better," Pete said. "So the first half of today will be spent getting to know your teammate."
"Bullshit," Bob said. "You two are just going to go fuck." Gabe winked at him, tugging Pete out of the door. There was a moment of silence in the room.
"So," Brendon said to Ryan. "How do you feel about Teabagging A Flamingo?" Ryan looked horrified, and mildly disgusted.
"That's our team name," Brendon reminded him, and Ryan relaxed slightly.
"Jerk Off Sexy Llamas, what the fuck," Frank sighed, as the whole room burst into conversation. "It doesn't even make grammatical sense."
"That's Pete for you," Gerard replied. "Illiterate as fuck."
"I shouldn't let him run this," Frank said.
"You shouldn't let him do this," Gerard said, gesturing at all the pairs of people chattering away. "Fucking Christmas, man."
"D'you not like Christmas?" Frank asked.
"I do," Gerard said, "just not when it's like this." Frank nodded his agreement.
"I never really got to celebrate Christmas when I was a kid," he shrugged. "I was always ill, or in hospital, or both."
"That must've sucked," Gerard said empathetically. "I had Mikey to care for, though, so, y'know. Not always the greatest."
"I still find it so hard to believe you two are brothers," Frank commented. "You're so dissimilar. Do you even have anything in common?"
"Music taste," Gerard answered immediately. He paused for a moment. "Parents," he added, and Frank grinned at him.
"Fucker," he said, laughing. "What kind of music, then?" Gerard shrugged.
"Misfits, Danzig, Maiden, Smashing Pumpkins, you know. That kinda stuff."
"Really? That's fucking awesome, man. Seriously. I saw Smashing Pumpkins, once."
"Really? That's too cool," Gerard said, letting a little envy leak into his voice. Frank sat back, pleased.
"Yeah, they were awesome, fucking killed it," Frank said enthusiastically. "You ever been to any shows?" Gerard shook his head.
"Well, back when I was an alcoholic I used to go to a ton of shows, but you know, I can't really remember them," he said.
"You were an alcoholic?" he asked in surprise. Gerard nodded. He didn't really like to breach the topic - who the fuck wanted to talk about when they were falling apart, slowly killing themselves? - but it had to be done sooner or later.
"Yeah, I, uh, drank heavily all through high school, did a bit of drugs, like, Xanax and stuff. Realised I needed to get off the drink when it started me on crack." He shrugged almost indifferently, but either Frank was a body language genius or Gerard was a shitty actor (probably the latter) because Frank put his hand on Gerard's forearm and squeezed gently.
"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I had dreads when I was a pothead," he said seriously, which did make Gerard grin, because a) dreads, oh God, and b) pot.
"Dreads," he laughed. "Got any pictures?" Frank grinned, and winked at him.
"None that I'd like to show you," he said, eyes twinkling. "My mom has them all framed around her house anyway, my glory days in Pencey Prep." Gerard frowned - Pencey Prep, the name sounded so familiar.
"Pencey Prep," he mused. "I'm pretty sure I remembe- hey, if you're reading this, I'm gone, happy birthday," he sang, slightly awkwardly. Frank grinned at him.
"Mikey used to come see us all the time," he said. "When he worked for Eyeball. That's how I met him. When he left Eyeball and Pencey broke up I offered him a job here."
"He got me a job," Gerard admitted. "I'm shit at everything, but Pete's not much bettter, so." He shrugged, and Frank giggled.
"Pete and Mikey dated, once," Gerard told Frank, and Frank's eyes widened.
"No way," he said.
"Yeah," Gerard nodded, glancing over at where Mikey was smiling softly at Ray. "Yeah, they. They were a thing."
"Like, a thing, or a thing?"
"Just a thing," Gerard shrugged. "Sex." He didn't want to go into any more detail than that.
"I never really had a thing," Frank said. "Too stoned, half my life." Gerard smiled wryly.
"I thought I had a thing, once," he said softly. "Turned out it was just a thing."
"She's missing out," Frank said sincerely.
"He," Gerard almost whispered. It was no secret that Frank was gay (half the office were, it was the only place in the big bad world of New York City that they were accepted) but Gerard? Gerard was definitely not in the closet, if anyone asked what his sexual orientation was he'd say gay, loud and proud and clear, because who was he to be ashamed of himself? He just wasn't the kind of person to show it off, like Frank and Pete and Brendon and Gabe were. He was a more...more reserved homosexual, if you like. Like Ray.
"He's missing out, then," Frank said, as if Gerard had just corrected him on the gender of his cat.
"He's really not," Gerard muttered under his breath, but he forced a smile to Frank.
"We're both better off," he said. "He didn't like my macaroni cheese anyway, so whatever." Frank giggled, and holy fuck, Gerard was really starting to get addicted to that sound.
"I can't cook to save my life," Frank said. "In fact, my cooking would probably end my life." Gerard huffed out a laugh.
"I can make macaroni cheese," he said, "because all Mikey ever ate when we were growing up was macaroni cheese."
"I can make pancakes?" Frank offered. Gerard pulled a face.
"Mikey put red food colouring in our pancakes once," he said, shuddering at the memory. It had looked like a girl had had her period on his plate.
Appetising was not first on the list of words Gerard would have used to describe it.
"That's gross, man!" Frank laughed, throwing his head back and exposing his neck, which he really, really shouldn't have done. Gerard was a complete goner, now. It was just- just the best thing. Ever.
"I survived," Gerard said, staring hungrily at Frank's neck.
"Guess red's not your favourite colour, then?" Frank grinned, and Gerard snapped out of his weird-ass fetish-daydream.
"No," he said. "Black." He gestured at his outfit - black skinny jeans, a black Misfits shirt covered slightly by a black leather jacket. Dealing With Overseas Shitheads involved a lot of phone calls rather than face-to-face communication, so Gerard could have turned up in his underwear for all they knew.
"Should have guessed," Frank said, smiling. Gerard opened his mouth to ask what Frank's was, but then-
"Everybody shut up!" yelled a slightly pink-faced, panting Pete. The room fell silent immediately. He grinned, tugging Gabe (whose hair was definitely more messed up than it had been when he left) into the room.
"You said we had the whole morning," Ray said, sounding a little miffed.
"My job as a boss," Pete said loftily, with the air of someone bullshitting professionally, "is to prepare you for any given situation. Time pressure is one of those. Changability is another."
"Bullshit," Bob said. "You two just finished fucking early and got bored."
"Spot on," Pete grinned at him. Then he turned, addressing the assembled teams. "Who's up for the first game?"
"What is it?" Brendon asked. Gabe grinned at him.
"Find the dildo!" he crowed, and everyone groaned.
"Wait," Patrick said warily. "It hasn't been in your- anywhere, has it?" Gabe winked.
"You'll have to find it to find out," he said. Gerard turned to look at Frank.
"Find the fucking dildo?" he asked, exasperated. Frank shrugged.
"Let's go," he sighed.
-
"I swear to God, if they hid it in my office..."
"Gerard," Frank said. "They probably just lost it and this is an excuse to get a search party onto it."
"I swear to God, if they lost it in my office..."
Frank punched him lightly.
"No one would fuck in there," he said. "Have you seen the wallpaper? Redecorate, man."
"'Cause the company would totally allow me that," Gerard muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets as he slouched down the hallway after Frank.
-
Several hours later, they were still hunting. It was dark, and Frank and Gerard had been bickering light-heartedly about who should climb the fence for the last five minutes. Everyone in the office was pretty close, everyone knew everyone and joked around with them, but there were some things Gerard was just not willing to do with or for them. Scaling high objects was one of them.
"No way," he said, shaking his head. "No. No, Frank- Frank, what the fuck, I said n- oh, for fuck's sake." He rolled his eyes, following Frank and his cheeky grin.
"I said-"
"I heard you the first time, you said no," Frank interrupted dismissively. "Unfortunately for you, 'no' is not in my vocabulary."
"How can you- Frank, that fence is electrified," Gerard said. "I'm not climbing an electrified fence and getting roasted, what the fuck do you think I am? A suicidal chicken?"
"Shut up," Frank said, pointing at the huge metal structure, "and climb." Gerard shook his head resolutely.
"Look," Frank said, exasperated. "You've worked here almost as long as I have. You and I both know that the electricity is never on in that goddamned fence, or the electricity in the office goes haywire." Gerard flushed. He'd hoped Frank had forgotten that.
"That's not what I'm worried about," he mumbled, ducking his head and scuffing his shoes on the asphalt. "I'm, uh. Scared of heights." There was a long moment that he thought Frank was just going to burst out laughing, and that he was going to be humiliated and have to climb the fence and die of fright to save him from the humiliation, because a twenty-seven year old man had no reason to be afraid of heights. Frank, however, simply said:
"I have a terrible phobia of spiders. Wanna turn back?"
That was why Gerard had such a massive crush on Frank. He wasn't judgemental. At all.
-
The walk (or rather mooch) back to the office was silent, contemplative and comfortable.
"D'you think anyone's found it yet?" Frank asked, his breath visible in the crisp December air. Gerard shrugged, blowing on his hands to warm them up.
"Probably," he said. "It's nearly time to leave." Thank God.
"Oh well," Frank grinned, flashing his perfectly straight white teeth in a dazzling smile. "That's one day down, at least."
"Four to go," Gerard muttered darkly, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Four days with me," Frank said, still grinning, nudging Gerard. "Isn't that a plus?"
No, Gerard thought. It's four more days of restraint and torture.
"Of course," was all he said aloud, squinting as they rounded the corner and the yellow light of the office spilled onto the pavement and also his eyes.
"Where've you been?" someone cried, leaning out of a top floor window. "Bob found it."
"I wish I'd seen his face," Gerard yelled back.
"So do I," the figure shouted back down, before disappearing.
"Aw, man," Frank said wistfully. "If someone had gotten a shot of Bob with a dildo in his hand..."
"Bob, of all people," Gerard agreed, nudging the door open with his shoulder, because it was too cold and he was too lazy to take his hands out of his pockets. They ambled past the reception together, waving at Jon and Spencer, who manned it, and through Marketing, where Joe and Andy were looking bored out of their skulls. Both of them, although they were closer than close to both Pete and Patrick, decided every year not to take part in the fun that was Pete And Gabe's Christmas Extravaganda, or Bullshit for short. Being from another department, they actually had the luxury of choice, whereas Gerard was forced into it every year.
"What rhymes with 'inflamed?'" Andy asked them helplessly as they passed his office.
"...Quinflamed," Frank said helpfully.
"Forget I asked," Andy said hastily, before Frank could open his mouth and spout every single made up word that would rhyme with inflamed. Joe grinned at them from the office on the other side of the corridor when they passed, and Gerard grinned back, because he liked Joe and it was nearly time to go home.
"Look!" Pete yelled, brandishing the dildo as soon as they pushed open the door that led to the corridor that branched off into DWOSS and The Law Section. "Bob found it! Bob!" Bob rolled his eyes, but Gerard didn't miss the fondness behind it.
"Patrick," Frank said seriously. "You're useless. How could you not capture that moment on camera?"
"Memory," Patrick grinned, tapping his head. "I'll never forget the look of horror. It was like he'd never seen one before."
"Maybe I haven't," Bob said.
"Now, now," Pete said, draping an arm around Bob's broad shoulders and pointing at Ray. "We all know that's not true."
"Fuck off," Bob said, shoving Pete off him. "Are you drunk?"
"Don't be silly, it's a weekday," Pete giggled.
"Can I go home?" Gerard asked hopefully.
"Gerard," Gabe said, kissing him on the lips. "You are free to go."
"Good," Gerard muttered, dodging the hand he knew Gabe would try to slap his ass with.
"Damn, you're getting good, Way," Gabe called after him as he walked to grab his bag from his office.
"And you're getting sloppy," Gerard called back.
"I can get sloppy for you, if you want me to," Gabe yelled, and Gerard flipped him off over his shoulder. He was grinning, though.
-
"Ready for a second day of dildo-hunting?" Frank asked impossibly cheerily the next morning.
"Go away," Gerard mumbled, nursing his coffee like it should have been nursing his brain.
"Today's first game," Pete announced as he crashed his way into the meeting room, "is pin the tail on the donkey."
"Easy," Ray snorted. Pete smirked, folding his arms.
"Go on then," he said.
"Find it," Gabe said, mirroring Pete's actions. Gerard shook his head. It was easy to forget Gabe and Pete were two seperate human beings, the way they interacted so closely together.
"What?" Ray looked confused.
"My glamorous assistant will explain," Pete said casually, sauntering over to the whiteboard where all the team names were written. He tallied one point next to the Glittering Unicorn Vaginas, and Bob hi-fived Patrick under the table.
"Also, extra points to Brendon's team, for diving into a holly bush-" Pete added a mark next to Teabagging A Flamingo "-and to Ray's for his flirting technique." He added a point to I Fuck Sheep, and both Ray and Mikey turned dark shades of red.
"Basically," Gabe said, directing the attention somewhere other than the embarrassed pair. "There's one massive picture of a donkey, in the main corridor. Each team has a colour, and there are five tails that correspond with that colour." He paused. "Hidden in the places each team would hate to look the most." There was a collective groan.
"Pete, please name the team colours," Gabe said.
"Team one - that's Glittering Unicorn Vaginas, you are blue. Team two - Teabagging A Flamingo, you're green. Team thr- oh, we don't need a colour, but we're red anyway. Team four - Jerk Off Sexy Llamas, you're pink." Great. "Team five - I Fuck Sheep, you're yellow."
"What, so everyone gets a normal fucking colour except us?" Gerard said indignantly.
"Let's not be sexist," Gabe said. "We thought pink suited you, because you're a girl."
"That is sexist," Gerard said through gritted teeth, "and I am not a girl."
"He's PMSing," Mikey said dryly. "Let's go."
Well, fuck.
-
"Hate to look the most?" Frank queried as they made their way down the corridor.
"I don't fucking know," Gerard sighed, shouldering open the door at the end. They stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, considering.
"I'm pretty scared of Jon," Gerard said, "but I doubt Pete left it with him."
"It has to be something we both hate," Frank mused, "and I'm not scared of Jon."
"Heights and spiders," Gerard said dryly. "What are we gonna get out of that?" Frank sighed loudly, raising his eyes to the ceiling as he mused.
"There," he said, clutching Gerard's arm suddenly, sending odd zings coursing through Gerard's veins. "The loft. It's high, and probably full of. Y'know. Spiders." Gerard gulped. The ceiling was at least three metres high - there was no way he was climbing that on the rickety ladder that hung on a nail to his right.
"I can't go up there," he said frantically. "Heights. Too high."
"I can get up there," Frank said, "but I'll seize up as soon as I get in and just fall back down."
"So who's going up?" Gerard asked, knowing with a sinking feeling it was going to be him. Frank inclined his head as he retrieved the ladder, setting it up so it propped against the hatch of the loft.
"Shit," Gerard breathed, palms beginning to sweat. "I can't- I can't do that. No way, Frank."
"You've got to," Frank said. "It's our only chance."
"What if it's not in there?" Gerard said, voice rising in panic. "What if I go up there for nothing? All that way?"
"If it's not in there, I'll kiss you to make up for it," Frank joked, ushering Gerard towards the ladder.
I hope it's not in there, Gerard thought.
"Go on," Frank said gently. "One rung at a time."
Gerard took a deep breath, and began to climb.
Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down, Gerard chanted to himself as his shaking hands clasped the sides of the ladder, slippery with sweat. He closed his eyes, breathing too shallowly, and felt his way up.
"Open your eyes, Gee," Frank said suddenly. "You need to open the hatch." Gerard clung to the ladder as he shook his head, feeling it wobble under his immense weight. Opening his eyes would mean seeing how close he was to the ceiling, and remembering how far the ceiling was from the floor, and having a panic attack.
"Do it," Frank said, a note of urgency in his voice. "Come on, Gerard. You can do it." He couldn't. There was no way he could-
"For me." Frank's calm, even voice broke through the hubbub of panic in Gerard's mind.
Slowly, he opened one eye.
The hatch was right in front of him. All he had to do was- shit, he had to let go of the ladder to open it.
His eyes flew shut immediately, and he let out an animalistic mewl of terror. His stomach was churning. What if he fell? He'd break his neck and die, all because of Pete and Gabe's stupid games.
"You can do it," Frank said coaxingly. "Just reach out a hand, nudge the latch and it'll swing open. Easy."
Easy except for the bit where his hand had to leave the ladder.
"Come on," Frank said. "If you do it, I'll kiss you." His voice was sincere this time round, and Gerard's breathing quickened at the thought of actually, maybe, getting to kiss Frank, if he wasn't such a chickenshit.
Gulping, he unclenched his hand from the cool metal of the ladder and reached it out to nudge the latch.
It gave way easily, and Gerard scrambled into the loft, breathing heavily and sweating buckets.
"Never again," he shouted shakily to Frank, who appeared in the square of the hatch and gave him a wide grin and a thumbs up. Gerard smiled weakly back and leaned back against whatever it was that was behind him, wiping the sweat off of his forehead as he caught his breath.
Wasn't he manly, going up a ladder and almost crying.
His eyes swept the loft, once accustomed to the darkness. There seemed to be nothing, nothing that resembled a tail, and Gerard was just thinking he'd come all the way up here for nothing and wishing fervently that he had x-ray vision so this sort of thing wouldn't happen in the future when he spotted it. He crowed triumphantly, waving it in the air as he pranced back to the hatch.
"Got it!" he yelled to Frank.
Now for the small matter of getting down.
He decided to just go for it. The hatch could stay open, okay, someone else who wasn't scared to death of being anywhere other than on solid ground could close it. He shut his eyes, felt around for the rungs of the ladder and scrambled his way down, missing the second-to-last rung and falling into an ungraceful heap at Frank's feet.
"I got it," he said, hair plastered to his face with sweat. Frank grinned, swooping down and grabbing it out of his hands.
"That was brave," he murmured, before pecking Gerard on the lips.
It was a swift kiss, barely a kiss, even, but a kiss nonetheless. And a kiss from none other than the guy Gerard had secretly been lusting over for four years.
It wasn't anything special, he knew that deep down, because he was just being given something that made his bravery worth it. But on the surface, he was happy to kid himself it meant something, just to explain the wave of ecstasy rolling through him.
Gerard could have cried of happiness, exhaustion and relief.
-
"So," Pete said the next day. "The scores."
"The scores," Bob echoed dramatically. Pete flipped him off.
"Glittering Unicorn Vaginas - two points. Teabagging A Flamingo - one point. Flower Arranging Dog-Balls - one point. Jerk Off Sexy Llamas, zero points. I Fuck Sheep - one point."
Bob and Patrick cheered triumphantly.
"However," Gabe interrupted. "We haven't actually updated with yesterday's scores yet." Bob and Patrick fell silent again.
"One automatic point awarded to Jerk Off Sexy Llamas for winning," Pete said, adding a mark next to their name. "One mark to I Fuck Sheep for first-aid cuddles. One mark to Flower Arranging Dog-Balls for...well, for being sexy, because we are. Anyone who disputes will be fired. One mark to Teabagging A Giraffe for diving into a holly bush. Another point for it being the same holly bush as yesterday. And finally, two extra points to Jerk Off Sexy Llamas for Gerard's bravery-" he added a mark "-and for the kiss. It was a shit kiss, but it was still a kiss." He added the final mark with a flourish.
"Excuse me?" Patrick asked in an odd voice. "Kiss?"
Gerard sank lower in his chair, face burning.
"Yeah," Pete said enthusiastically. "Gerard's scared of heights and Frank's scared of spiders so we put their tail in the loft and Frank said if Gerard opened the hatch and got in he'd kiss him. So Gerard opened the hatch." He shrugged.
"Could you have made it sound any more like I wanted to kiss him?" Gerard muttered under his breath, beetroot red.
"But you did," said Pete, sounding surprised. Fuck him and his batlike hearing. "And you still do." Without waiting for an answer from Gerard, he turned back to the whiteboard.
"Oh yeah," he said. "Point to me and Gabe for winning the three-legged race."
"What three-legged race?" several indignant voices asked.
"Exactly," Gabe grinned.
-
The morning had been a lazy one, as Pete and Gabe seemed unable to keep their hands off each other and left to 'file...stuff' which meant fuck in someone's office. As soon as they announced it, everyone had rushed out of the room to either occupy their offices or lock the door. Gerard had taken the liberty of locking it before going to the meeting room, so he simply drew all morning, feeling sorry for the people without locks on their doors who'd have to sit in their offices all morning, guarding them from Pete and Gabe, who could be violent towards furniture and vital office notes.
Who was he kidding, he didn't feel sorry for them at all.
Long after Gerard had downed his lunch, however - a meagre cheese sandwich which Mikey had prepared - and it was already dark, Pete, Gabe and the various people without locks stumbled thankfully back into the meeting room.
"I'm getting a lock," Patrick groaned, falling into the chair next to Bob. "Seriously."
"Game for the afternoon," Gabe said, ignoring Patrick. "Truth or dare."
"How can a team win that?" Ray asked.
"They can't," Pete said, "but we get to hear some interesting stories. Names!" Gabe brought forth a hat full of names.
"First name drawn is the asker slash darer, and second is the askee slash daree."
"Grammar," Frank sing-songed under his breath, right next to Gerard, who jumped, not realising Frank had returned.
"Okay so...Ray and...Bob!"
"Truth or dare?" Ray demanded.
"Truth," Bob replied in a challenging tone.
"Why did you always prefer the purple dildo?" Ray asked, smirking. Gerard shook his head. The two best friends had been lovers for a while, but it just hadn't worked out. They always joked about it, though, and were both glad they were able to remain friends.
"Because the blue one had been up your ass," Bob retorted.
"Your dick was up my ass," Ray shot back.
"I washed it," Bob replied calmly.
Pete burst out laughing.
"Next," Gabe said, barely containing his laughter himself. "Brendon and...Ryan!"
"Truth or d-"
"Truth."
"Okay," Brendon said. He frowned for a moment, puzzling. "Why won't you kiss me?"
Ryan sank further into the scarves that threatened to swallow any part of him from the chest up.
"Because," he said.
"That's not a valid answer," Gabe said, eyes gleaming at the prospect of gossip.
"Fine," Ryan said, uncharacteristically defiant. "Fine." And he leaned across the table, grabbed Brendon's face and smushed their lips together.
"Happy now?" he demanded grumpily.
"Yes," Brendon, Pete and Gabe said vehemently.
"Gerard...Mik- no, that's crap, they know everything already. Gerard and...Frank." Somehow, the light that showed the writing on the slip Gabe was holding looked a lot more like Patrick than Frank, but whatever.
"Truth or dare?" he asked Frank. Frank chewed on his lip for a moment, eyes twinkling as he decided.
"Dare," he whispered finally, and either there was something wrong with Gerard's ears or he whispered that seductively.
"Okay, I dare- I, um." Gerard licked his lips. "I dare you to. Come up with a dare?" All he could think of was I dare you to kiss me, which was hardly appropriate.
"Can I?" Frank asked, turning to Gabe, who shrugged.
"I dare myself," Frank said, "to-"
"Is that the time?" Mikey said loudly. "Home. Bye guys!" Everybody's rapt attention seemed to have been on Frank and Gerard, as they all started at Mikey's interruption and one by one stood up and filed out of the room, scraping their chairs and murmuring as they went, throwing glances in Frank and Gerard's direction.
When the room was empty and silent, Frank grinned wickedly at Gerard through his long, inky eyelashes.
"-to tell you," he finished.
"Tell me what?" Gerard asked, confused.
"Tell you about this," Frank said, and suddenly he was leaning forward and pressing his lips to Gerard's again, but this time it was longer, lingering, soft warmth against soft warmth. Gerard tried not to make the un-manliest sound his body could manage, and snaked his hands up to Frank's hair, curling his fingers and just feeling, losing himself in what was probably the only happy moment of his life before Frank would inevitably realise he was kissing a fat grumpy loser and pull away.
"I've been wanting to do that for so long," Frank panted, when he pulled back, eyes glittering.
Wait, what?
"Mikey told me to explain," Frank said. "He said he couldn't stand it anymore, so he blackmailed Pete into getting us together as teammates this year."
"I am so confused," Gerard said, his Frank-hazed brain trying to piece things together, and failing. "So, so confused."
"Basically, what I'm saying is," Frank said, "that I've had a crush on you for...three years now?"
"You- what? Did Mikey set you up to this? Are there cameras somewhere?" Gerard asked, twisting in his chair to make sure there weren't and the whole office wasn't watching the moment on a large monitor laughing at his spectacular catastrophe of a life.
"No, what the fuck?" Frank said, sounding amused. "No, I'm serious. I just kinda. Well. You never really interacted with anyone and, um, I didn't want to, y'know. You seemed kinda."
"Kinda...?"
"Straight."
Gerard burst out laughing, and Frank flushed.
"It's not funny!" he said. "I had to ask Mikey and everything!"
"Why didn't you just talk to me?" Gerard asked. "I could have told you that."
"Where's the romance in that?" Frank asked. Gerard was about to ask where the romance was in asking the other party's little brother, but Frank stopped him with another kiss.
That was cool. He'd settle for that too.
-
"We should rename it," Pete said to the congregated group of office workers, watching the CCTV footage of Frank and Gerard on a large monitor. "We should rename it 'Pete And Gabe's Week Of Matchmaking'."
"You'd just use that as an excuse to go fuck in the office," Bob said.
"We need an excuse?" Gabe said, sounding genuinely surprised.
Christmas was the one time of the year Gerard really hated in the office. It was all Pete's fault, really, because being the boss (albeit not a very good one) he ordered mandatory fun and games for a week where Gerard would much rather be doing his brainwashing job.
Christmas was the time the office 'bonded', as Pete put it (aka an excuse to get in Gabe Saporta's pants, which, it had to be said, wasn't exactly difficult, given how many people had been in Gabe's pants). That meant traditional games like three-legged races, and stupid, invented, Wentz games like paired-night-orienteering-in-the-office.
Every year, all the names from Pete's department were put in a sparkly pink cowboy hat, and all the names from Frank's department were put in a hat they stole off Patrick. One name was chosen from each hat, and these people would be teammates for a whole week, taking part in whatever idiotic games Pete and Gabe had decided to come up with.
It was Monday, the fifteenth of December, the day of the choosing. Last year, Gerard had been paired with little Ryan Ross, which was awesome and terrible at the same time - awesome because they didn't exchange a word for the whole week, which was just how Gerard liked it, and terrible because Pete got it into his head that their silence meant they had a crush on each other.
This year, hopefully, would be a little better. Maybe Gerard would get paired with Gabe and could spill all of Pete's secrets. Maybe, even better, he would get paired with Mikey, his brother. In the four years they'd both been working under Pete and Frank's commands, they had never been paired together. Ever. Gerard was starting to suspect Pete had rigged it that way, but whenever he approached Pete about it he was met with innocent brown eyes and a mischievious smirk.
"Good luck," Ray said, clapping Gerard on the shoulder as they entered the building. Gerard knew Ray was hoping to get Mikey, and not just get Mikey, but Get Mikey. With capital letters.
"You too," Gerard muttered, following Ray down the corridor that led to their department, Dealing With Overseas Shitheads. Officially it was called International Relationships, but of course, that was not what it was.
The hallway that led to Gerard's office was already hung with tawdry Christmas decorations, and Gerard had no doubt that Pete had wheedled the janitor into giving him the skeleton key that allowed access to all the offices so he could string decoration up there too. His suspicions were confirmed as he walked into a room full of miniature Grinch and Scrooge toys.
"Pete," he called, sweeping a whole cluster of quite frankly evil-looking Scrooges off the table so he could put his briefcase down. "Pete, what the fuck?"
"This year, we decided to theme each office judging by their character," Pete grinned, appearing out of thin air at the door. "You're always miserable and moody at Christmas, so." He gestured at the toys.
"Thanks," Gerard said sarcastically, kicking the sea of figurines aside to create a path to his desk. "This must have cost you a fortune."
"A fortune well spent," Pete winked, and then he was gone. Gerard took in the wreckage that was once his office - fucking- seriously, did they really have to do this? First thing on a Monday morning? The Monday morning? - before deciding to clear it up after the meeting.
The meeting.
-
When Gerard pushed open the door to the meeting room, all of Frank's department (Frank, Gabe, Patrick, Ryan and Mikey), The Law Section (Gerard had no clue what their official name was) were already there, chatting animatedly amongst one another. Ray was there too, talking to Mikey, who raised an eyebrow at Gerard as he entered.
"Great," Gerard huffed, throwing himself into the chair opposite Frank Iero, who was gesturing wildly with his hands at Ryan, who frankly looked quite terrified. Gerard slouched down further in his chair, pretending not to be mesmerised by the way Frank's eyes lit up when he was talking about something he loved. Not to mention the way he smiled, so brilliantly, his teeth straight, white and perfect.
"This year," Pete said dramatically, jolting Gerard out of his daydream (he hadn't even noticed Bob, Brendon and Pete arriving). "This year, our teams are going to have names. So we have three hats - names, names, and names."
Clear as ever.
"So, team number one will consist of-" Pete rummaged around in the cowboy hat for a few seconds. "Bob, and..." He rummaged around in the hat they'd stolen off Patrick. "Trick!" Patrick blinked in surprise. He'd been paired with Brendon for the last three years, so no doubt he'd been expecting the eccentric homosexual again. "And you'll be called-" Pete picked a slip of paper out of the third hat - one, again, they'd obviously taken off an unhappy Patrick "-oh, ha, you're the Glittering Unicorn Vaginas."
Gerard spluttered. Bob, the manliest man that had ever manned on this earth, and Patrick, a shy but capable-of-throwing-bitch-diva-fits man, paired up in a team called the Glittering Unicorn Vaginas?
"Team two - Brendon, Ryan and you're Teabagging A Flamingo!"
"Great," Brendon muttered, hearing their name. "I'd rather be the unicorn vagina thing."
"I would say swap, but you're teabagging flamingos, so..." Patrick said, and Brendon shot him a glare.
"Team three - Gabe and me, and we're the- oh, we're the Flower Arranging Dog-Balls."
"Who even came up with these names?" Gerard demanded. "They're not remotely Christmassy."
"Who said they were gonna be, Grinch?" Pete grinned, reaching in to pick the next name. "Gerard, and-"
The moment of truth.
He either had a week of torture and hell ahead of him, or a bearable week. Either a week of bliss with someone he could actually comminicate with, or sheer horror with the boss from the other department whom Gerard had been quietly lusting over for the four years he'd worked at the company.
"-Frank," Pete finished, and Gerard groaned.
"So," Frank said, grinning at him from across the table. "A week of fun and games, eh?"
Not when you're added into the equation, Gerard thought, smiling weakly back as he tried to formulate an emergency strategy. He'd barely used up any of his sick/leave days this year, so maybe he could just...but then Frank wouldn't have a partner and it wouldn't be fair.
Maybe Ray would want to swap.
No, Ray had been trying for years to get Mikey (and Get Mikey) and it wasn't fair to take that off him. If it was anyone except Ray, sure, Gerard would have threatened, bribed, begged. But Ray deserved it.
Fuck. He would have to put up with a week of 'fun and games' with Frank Iero, object of all his fantasies for nearly the past half-decade.
"You're called," Pete said bossily, and Gerard had almost forgotten he was there, that anyone but Gerard and Frank was there, he had been too busy wallowing in his self-pity. "You're called the Jerk Off Sexy Llamas. Which leaves Ray and Mikey, and you're called I Fuck Sheep."
"I don't even want to fucking know where the inspiration for the names came from," Gerard muttered, sinking lower and lower into his chair, trying to ignore the way Frank giggled, and the way it didn't suit his deep voice at all, and desperately trying to ignore how it stirred something, deep in his stomach.
He was fucking fucked.
"Okay, so, get in your fucking teams, chicos," Gabe said, waving his arms about as if that enhanced his Spanish.
Gerard waited for Frank to slide over to the seat next to him that Ray had vacated.
"I can't wait to see what they've come up with this year," Frank mumbled to Gerard. "Let's hope it's not act-out-your-team-name." Gerard snorted inadvertantly, his hand flying to his mouth as soon as he realised. He felt a blush creeping up his cheeks, and swung his hair forward to act as a curtain and hide it. Fuck, of course he snorted in front of Frank, of all fucking people.
"This year, we thought that the most effective way to win was to get to know your teammate better," Pete said. "So the first half of today will be spent getting to know your teammate."
"Bullshit," Bob said. "You two are just going to go fuck." Gabe winked at him, tugging Pete out of the door. There was a moment of silence in the room.
"So," Brendon said to Ryan. "How do you feel about Teabagging A Flamingo?" Ryan looked horrified, and mildly disgusted.
"That's our team name," Brendon reminded him, and Ryan relaxed slightly.
"Jerk Off Sexy Llamas, what the fuck," Frank sighed, as the whole room burst into conversation. "It doesn't even make grammatical sense."
"That's Pete for you," Gerard replied. "Illiterate as fuck."
"I shouldn't let him run this," Frank said.
"You shouldn't let him do this," Gerard said, gesturing at all the pairs of people chattering away. "Fucking Christmas, man."
"D'you not like Christmas?" Frank asked.
"I do," Gerard said, "just not when it's like this." Frank nodded his agreement.
"I never really got to celebrate Christmas when I was a kid," he shrugged. "I was always ill, or in hospital, or both."
"That must've sucked," Gerard said empathetically. "I had Mikey to care for, though, so, y'know. Not always the greatest."
"I still find it so hard to believe you two are brothers," Frank commented. "You're so dissimilar. Do you even have anything in common?"
"Music taste," Gerard answered immediately. He paused for a moment. "Parents," he added, and Frank grinned at him.
"Fucker," he said, laughing. "What kind of music, then?" Gerard shrugged.
"Misfits, Danzig, Maiden, Smashing Pumpkins, you know. That kinda stuff."
"Really? That's fucking awesome, man. Seriously. I saw Smashing Pumpkins, once."
"Really? That's too cool," Gerard said, letting a little envy leak into his voice. Frank sat back, pleased.
"Yeah, they were awesome, fucking killed it," Frank said enthusiastically. "You ever been to any shows?" Gerard shook his head.
"Well, back when I was an alcoholic I used to go to a ton of shows, but you know, I can't really remember them," he said.
"You were an alcoholic?" he asked in surprise. Gerard nodded. He didn't really like to breach the topic - who the fuck wanted to talk about when they were falling apart, slowly killing themselves? - but it had to be done sooner or later.
"Yeah, I, uh, drank heavily all through high school, did a bit of drugs, like, Xanax and stuff. Realised I needed to get off the drink when it started me on crack." He shrugged almost indifferently, but either Frank was a body language genius or Gerard was a shitty actor (probably the latter) because Frank put his hand on Gerard's forearm and squeezed gently.
"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I had dreads when I was a pothead," he said seriously, which did make Gerard grin, because a) dreads, oh God, and b) pot.
"Dreads," he laughed. "Got any pictures?" Frank grinned, and winked at him.
"None that I'd like to show you," he said, eyes twinkling. "My mom has them all framed around her house anyway, my glory days in Pencey Prep." Gerard frowned - Pencey Prep, the name sounded so familiar.
"Pencey Prep," he mused. "I'm pretty sure I remembe- hey, if you're reading this, I'm gone, happy birthday," he sang, slightly awkwardly. Frank grinned at him.
"Mikey used to come see us all the time," he said. "When he worked for Eyeball. That's how I met him. When he left Eyeball and Pencey broke up I offered him a job here."
"He got me a job," Gerard admitted. "I'm shit at everything, but Pete's not much bettter, so." He shrugged, and Frank giggled.
"Pete and Mikey dated, once," Gerard told Frank, and Frank's eyes widened.
"No way," he said.
"Yeah," Gerard nodded, glancing over at where Mikey was smiling softly at Ray. "Yeah, they. They were a thing."
"Like, a thing, or a thing?"
"Just a thing," Gerard shrugged. "Sex." He didn't want to go into any more detail than that.
"I never really had a thing," Frank said. "Too stoned, half my life." Gerard smiled wryly.
"I thought I had a thing, once," he said softly. "Turned out it was just a thing."
"She's missing out," Frank said sincerely.
"He," Gerard almost whispered. It was no secret that Frank was gay (half the office were, it was the only place in the big bad world of New York City that they were accepted) but Gerard? Gerard was definitely not in the closet, if anyone asked what his sexual orientation was he'd say gay, loud and proud and clear, because who was he to be ashamed of himself? He just wasn't the kind of person to show it off, like Frank and Pete and Brendon and Gabe were. He was a more...more reserved homosexual, if you like. Like Ray.
"He's missing out, then," Frank said, as if Gerard had just corrected him on the gender of his cat.
"He's really not," Gerard muttered under his breath, but he forced a smile to Frank.
"We're both better off," he said. "He didn't like my macaroni cheese anyway, so whatever." Frank giggled, and holy fuck, Gerard was really starting to get addicted to that sound.
"I can't cook to save my life," Frank said. "In fact, my cooking would probably end my life." Gerard huffed out a laugh.
"I can make macaroni cheese," he said, "because all Mikey ever ate when we were growing up was macaroni cheese."
"I can make pancakes?" Frank offered. Gerard pulled a face.
"Mikey put red food colouring in our pancakes once," he said, shuddering at the memory. It had looked like a girl had had her period on his plate.
Appetising was not first on the list of words Gerard would have used to describe it.
"That's gross, man!" Frank laughed, throwing his head back and exposing his neck, which he really, really shouldn't have done. Gerard was a complete goner, now. It was just- just the best thing. Ever.
"I survived," Gerard said, staring hungrily at Frank's neck.
"Guess red's not your favourite colour, then?" Frank grinned, and Gerard snapped out of his weird-ass fetish-daydream.
"No," he said. "Black." He gestured at his outfit - black skinny jeans, a black Misfits shirt covered slightly by a black leather jacket. Dealing With Overseas Shitheads involved a lot of phone calls rather than face-to-face communication, so Gerard could have turned up in his underwear for all they knew.
"Should have guessed," Frank said, smiling. Gerard opened his mouth to ask what Frank's was, but then-
"Everybody shut up!" yelled a slightly pink-faced, panting Pete. The room fell silent immediately. He grinned, tugging Gabe (whose hair was definitely more messed up than it had been when he left) into the room.
"You said we had the whole morning," Ray said, sounding a little miffed.
"My job as a boss," Pete said loftily, with the air of someone bullshitting professionally, "is to prepare you for any given situation. Time pressure is one of those. Changability is another."
"Bullshit," Bob said. "You two just finished fucking early and got bored."
"Spot on," Pete grinned at him. Then he turned, addressing the assembled teams. "Who's up for the first game?"
"What is it?" Brendon asked. Gabe grinned at him.
"Find the dildo!" he crowed, and everyone groaned.
"Wait," Patrick said warily. "It hasn't been in your- anywhere, has it?" Gabe winked.
"You'll have to find it to find out," he said. Gerard turned to look at Frank.
"Find the fucking dildo?" he asked, exasperated. Frank shrugged.
"Let's go," he sighed.
-
"I swear to God, if they hid it in my office..."
"Gerard," Frank said. "They probably just lost it and this is an excuse to get a search party onto it."
"I swear to God, if they lost it in my office..."
Frank punched him lightly.
"No one would fuck in there," he said. "Have you seen the wallpaper? Redecorate, man."
"'Cause the company would totally allow me that," Gerard muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets as he slouched down the hallway after Frank.
-
Several hours later, they were still hunting. It was dark, and Frank and Gerard had been bickering light-heartedly about who should climb the fence for the last five minutes. Everyone in the office was pretty close, everyone knew everyone and joked around with them, but there were some things Gerard was just not willing to do with or for them. Scaling high objects was one of them.
"No way," he said, shaking his head. "No. No, Frank- Frank, what the fuck, I said n- oh, for fuck's sake." He rolled his eyes, following Frank and his cheeky grin.
"I said-"
"I heard you the first time, you said no," Frank interrupted dismissively. "Unfortunately for you, 'no' is not in my vocabulary."
"How can you- Frank, that fence is electrified," Gerard said. "I'm not climbing an electrified fence and getting roasted, what the fuck do you think I am? A suicidal chicken?"
"Shut up," Frank said, pointing at the huge metal structure, "and climb." Gerard shook his head resolutely.
"Look," Frank said, exasperated. "You've worked here almost as long as I have. You and I both know that the electricity is never on in that goddamned fence, or the electricity in the office goes haywire." Gerard flushed. He'd hoped Frank had forgotten that.
"That's not what I'm worried about," he mumbled, ducking his head and scuffing his shoes on the asphalt. "I'm, uh. Scared of heights." There was a long moment that he thought Frank was just going to burst out laughing, and that he was going to be humiliated and have to climb the fence and die of fright to save him from the humiliation, because a twenty-seven year old man had no reason to be afraid of heights. Frank, however, simply said:
"I have a terrible phobia of spiders. Wanna turn back?"
That was why Gerard had such a massive crush on Frank. He wasn't judgemental. At all.
-
The walk (or rather mooch) back to the office was silent, contemplative and comfortable.
"D'you think anyone's found it yet?" Frank asked, his breath visible in the crisp December air. Gerard shrugged, blowing on his hands to warm them up.
"Probably," he said. "It's nearly time to leave." Thank God.
"Oh well," Frank grinned, flashing his perfectly straight white teeth in a dazzling smile. "That's one day down, at least."
"Four to go," Gerard muttered darkly, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Four days with me," Frank said, still grinning, nudging Gerard. "Isn't that a plus?"
No, Gerard thought. It's four more days of restraint and torture.
"Of course," was all he said aloud, squinting as they rounded the corner and the yellow light of the office spilled onto the pavement and also his eyes.
"Where've you been?" someone cried, leaning out of a top floor window. "Bob found it."
"I wish I'd seen his face," Gerard yelled back.
"So do I," the figure shouted back down, before disappearing.
"Aw, man," Frank said wistfully. "If someone had gotten a shot of Bob with a dildo in his hand..."
"Bob, of all people," Gerard agreed, nudging the door open with his shoulder, because it was too cold and he was too lazy to take his hands out of his pockets. They ambled past the reception together, waving at Jon and Spencer, who manned it, and through Marketing, where Joe and Andy were looking bored out of their skulls. Both of them, although they were closer than close to both Pete and Patrick, decided every year not to take part in the fun that was Pete And Gabe's Christmas Extravaganda, or Bullshit for short. Being from another department, they actually had the luxury of choice, whereas Gerard was forced into it every year.
"What rhymes with 'inflamed?'" Andy asked them helplessly as they passed his office.
"...Quinflamed," Frank said helpfully.
"Forget I asked," Andy said hastily, before Frank could open his mouth and spout every single made up word that would rhyme with inflamed. Joe grinned at them from the office on the other side of the corridor when they passed, and Gerard grinned back, because he liked Joe and it was nearly time to go home.
"Look!" Pete yelled, brandishing the dildo as soon as they pushed open the door that led to the corridor that branched off into DWOSS and The Law Section. "Bob found it! Bob!" Bob rolled his eyes, but Gerard didn't miss the fondness behind it.
"Patrick," Frank said seriously. "You're useless. How could you not capture that moment on camera?"
"Memory," Patrick grinned, tapping his head. "I'll never forget the look of horror. It was like he'd never seen one before."
"Maybe I haven't," Bob said.
"Now, now," Pete said, draping an arm around Bob's broad shoulders and pointing at Ray. "We all know that's not true."
"Fuck off," Bob said, shoving Pete off him. "Are you drunk?"
"Don't be silly, it's a weekday," Pete giggled.
"Can I go home?" Gerard asked hopefully.
"Gerard," Gabe said, kissing him on the lips. "You are free to go."
"Good," Gerard muttered, dodging the hand he knew Gabe would try to slap his ass with.
"Damn, you're getting good, Way," Gabe called after him as he walked to grab his bag from his office.
"And you're getting sloppy," Gerard called back.
"I can get sloppy for you, if you want me to," Gabe yelled, and Gerard flipped him off over his shoulder. He was grinning, though.
-
"Ready for a second day of dildo-hunting?" Frank asked impossibly cheerily the next morning.
"Go away," Gerard mumbled, nursing his coffee like it should have been nursing his brain.
"Today's first game," Pete announced as he crashed his way into the meeting room, "is pin the tail on the donkey."
"Easy," Ray snorted. Pete smirked, folding his arms.
"Go on then," he said.
"Find it," Gabe said, mirroring Pete's actions. Gerard shook his head. It was easy to forget Gabe and Pete were two seperate human beings, the way they interacted so closely together.
"What?" Ray looked confused.
"My glamorous assistant will explain," Pete said casually, sauntering over to the whiteboard where all the team names were written. He tallied one point next to the Glittering Unicorn Vaginas, and Bob hi-fived Patrick under the table.
"Also, extra points to Brendon's team, for diving into a holly bush-" Pete added a mark next to Teabagging A Flamingo "-and to Ray's for his flirting technique." He added a point to I Fuck Sheep, and both Ray and Mikey turned dark shades of red.
"Basically," Gabe said, directing the attention somewhere other than the embarrassed pair. "There's one massive picture of a donkey, in the main corridor. Each team has a colour, and there are five tails that correspond with that colour." He paused. "Hidden in the places each team would hate to look the most." There was a collective groan.
"Pete, please name the team colours," Gabe said.
"Team one - that's Glittering Unicorn Vaginas, you are blue. Team two - Teabagging A Flamingo, you're green. Team thr- oh, we don't need a colour, but we're red anyway. Team four - Jerk Off Sexy Llamas, you're pink." Great. "Team five - I Fuck Sheep, you're yellow."
"What, so everyone gets a normal fucking colour except us?" Gerard said indignantly.
"Let's not be sexist," Gabe said. "We thought pink suited you, because you're a girl."
"That is sexist," Gerard said through gritted teeth, "and I am not a girl."
"He's PMSing," Mikey said dryly. "Let's go."
Well, fuck.
-
"Hate to look the most?" Frank queried as they made their way down the corridor.
"I don't fucking know," Gerard sighed, shouldering open the door at the end. They stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, considering.
"I'm pretty scared of Jon," Gerard said, "but I doubt Pete left it with him."
"It has to be something we both hate," Frank mused, "and I'm not scared of Jon."
"Heights and spiders," Gerard said dryly. "What are we gonna get out of that?" Frank sighed loudly, raising his eyes to the ceiling as he mused.
"There," he said, clutching Gerard's arm suddenly, sending odd zings coursing through Gerard's veins. "The loft. It's high, and probably full of. Y'know. Spiders." Gerard gulped. The ceiling was at least three metres high - there was no way he was climbing that on the rickety ladder that hung on a nail to his right.
"I can't go up there," he said frantically. "Heights. Too high."
"I can get up there," Frank said, "but I'll seize up as soon as I get in and just fall back down."
"So who's going up?" Gerard asked, knowing with a sinking feeling it was going to be him. Frank inclined his head as he retrieved the ladder, setting it up so it propped against the hatch of the loft.
"Shit," Gerard breathed, palms beginning to sweat. "I can't- I can't do that. No way, Frank."
"You've got to," Frank said. "It's our only chance."
"What if it's not in there?" Gerard said, voice rising in panic. "What if I go up there for nothing? All that way?"
"If it's not in there, I'll kiss you to make up for it," Frank joked, ushering Gerard towards the ladder.
I hope it's not in there, Gerard thought.
"Go on," Frank said gently. "One rung at a time."
Gerard took a deep breath, and began to climb.
Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down, Gerard chanted to himself as his shaking hands clasped the sides of the ladder, slippery with sweat. He closed his eyes, breathing too shallowly, and felt his way up.
"Open your eyes, Gee," Frank said suddenly. "You need to open the hatch." Gerard clung to the ladder as he shook his head, feeling it wobble under his immense weight. Opening his eyes would mean seeing how close he was to the ceiling, and remembering how far the ceiling was from the floor, and having a panic attack.
"Do it," Frank said, a note of urgency in his voice. "Come on, Gerard. You can do it." He couldn't. There was no way he could-
"For me." Frank's calm, even voice broke through the hubbub of panic in Gerard's mind.
Slowly, he opened one eye.
The hatch was right in front of him. All he had to do was- shit, he had to let go of the ladder to open it.
His eyes flew shut immediately, and he let out an animalistic mewl of terror. His stomach was churning. What if he fell? He'd break his neck and die, all because of Pete and Gabe's stupid games.
"You can do it," Frank said coaxingly. "Just reach out a hand, nudge the latch and it'll swing open. Easy."
Easy except for the bit where his hand had to leave the ladder.
"Come on," Frank said. "If you do it, I'll kiss you." His voice was sincere this time round, and Gerard's breathing quickened at the thought of actually, maybe, getting to kiss Frank, if he wasn't such a chickenshit.
Gulping, he unclenched his hand from the cool metal of the ladder and reached it out to nudge the latch.
It gave way easily, and Gerard scrambled into the loft, breathing heavily and sweating buckets.
"Never again," he shouted shakily to Frank, who appeared in the square of the hatch and gave him a wide grin and a thumbs up. Gerard smiled weakly back and leaned back against whatever it was that was behind him, wiping the sweat off of his forehead as he caught his breath.
Wasn't he manly, going up a ladder and almost crying.
His eyes swept the loft, once accustomed to the darkness. There seemed to be nothing, nothing that resembled a tail, and Gerard was just thinking he'd come all the way up here for nothing and wishing fervently that he had x-ray vision so this sort of thing wouldn't happen in the future when he spotted it. He crowed triumphantly, waving it in the air as he pranced back to the hatch.
"Got it!" he yelled to Frank.
Now for the small matter of getting down.
He decided to just go for it. The hatch could stay open, okay, someone else who wasn't scared to death of being anywhere other than on solid ground could close it. He shut his eyes, felt around for the rungs of the ladder and scrambled his way down, missing the second-to-last rung and falling into an ungraceful heap at Frank's feet.
"I got it," he said, hair plastered to his face with sweat. Frank grinned, swooping down and grabbing it out of his hands.
"That was brave," he murmured, before pecking Gerard on the lips.
It was a swift kiss, barely a kiss, even, but a kiss nonetheless. And a kiss from none other than the guy Gerard had secretly been lusting over for four years.
It wasn't anything special, he knew that deep down, because he was just being given something that made his bravery worth it. But on the surface, he was happy to kid himself it meant something, just to explain the wave of ecstasy rolling through him.
Gerard could have cried of happiness, exhaustion and relief.
-
"So," Pete said the next day. "The scores."
"The scores," Bob echoed dramatically. Pete flipped him off.
"Glittering Unicorn Vaginas - two points. Teabagging A Flamingo - one point. Flower Arranging Dog-Balls - one point. Jerk Off Sexy Llamas, zero points. I Fuck Sheep - one point."
Bob and Patrick cheered triumphantly.
"However," Gabe interrupted. "We haven't actually updated with yesterday's scores yet." Bob and Patrick fell silent again.
"One automatic point awarded to Jerk Off Sexy Llamas for winning," Pete said, adding a mark next to their name. "One mark to I Fuck Sheep for first-aid cuddles. One mark to Flower Arranging Dog-Balls for...well, for being sexy, because we are. Anyone who disputes will be fired. One mark to Teabagging A Giraffe for diving into a holly bush. Another point for it being the same holly bush as yesterday. And finally, two extra points to Jerk Off Sexy Llamas for Gerard's bravery-" he added a mark "-and for the kiss. It was a shit kiss, but it was still a kiss." He added the final mark with a flourish.
"Excuse me?" Patrick asked in an odd voice. "Kiss?"
Gerard sank lower in his chair, face burning.
"Yeah," Pete said enthusiastically. "Gerard's scared of heights and Frank's scared of spiders so we put their tail in the loft and Frank said if Gerard opened the hatch and got in he'd kiss him. So Gerard opened the hatch." He shrugged.
"Could you have made it sound any more like I wanted to kiss him?" Gerard muttered under his breath, beetroot red.
"But you did," said Pete, sounding surprised. Fuck him and his batlike hearing. "And you still do." Without waiting for an answer from Gerard, he turned back to the whiteboard.
"Oh yeah," he said. "Point to me and Gabe for winning the three-legged race."
"What three-legged race?" several indignant voices asked.
"Exactly," Gabe grinned.
-
The morning had been a lazy one, as Pete and Gabe seemed unable to keep their hands off each other and left to 'file...stuff' which meant fuck in someone's office. As soon as they announced it, everyone had rushed out of the room to either occupy their offices or lock the door. Gerard had taken the liberty of locking it before going to the meeting room, so he simply drew all morning, feeling sorry for the people without locks on their doors who'd have to sit in their offices all morning, guarding them from Pete and Gabe, who could be violent towards furniture and vital office notes.
Who was he kidding, he didn't feel sorry for them at all.
Long after Gerard had downed his lunch, however - a meagre cheese sandwich which Mikey had prepared - and it was already dark, Pete, Gabe and the various people without locks stumbled thankfully back into the meeting room.
"I'm getting a lock," Patrick groaned, falling into the chair next to Bob. "Seriously."
"Game for the afternoon," Gabe said, ignoring Patrick. "Truth or dare."
"How can a team win that?" Ray asked.
"They can't," Pete said, "but we get to hear some interesting stories. Names!" Gabe brought forth a hat full of names.
"First name drawn is the asker slash darer, and second is the askee slash daree."
"Grammar," Frank sing-songed under his breath, right next to Gerard, who jumped, not realising Frank had returned.
"Okay so...Ray and...Bob!"
"Truth or dare?" Ray demanded.
"Truth," Bob replied in a challenging tone.
"Why did you always prefer the purple dildo?" Ray asked, smirking. Gerard shook his head. The two best friends had been lovers for a while, but it just hadn't worked out. They always joked about it, though, and were both glad they were able to remain friends.
"Because the blue one had been up your ass," Bob retorted.
"Your dick was up my ass," Ray shot back.
"I washed it," Bob replied calmly.
Pete burst out laughing.
"Next," Gabe said, barely containing his laughter himself. "Brendon and...Ryan!"
"Truth or d-"
"Truth."
"Okay," Brendon said. He frowned for a moment, puzzling. "Why won't you kiss me?"
Ryan sank further into the scarves that threatened to swallow any part of him from the chest up.
"Because," he said.
"That's not a valid answer," Gabe said, eyes gleaming at the prospect of gossip.
"Fine," Ryan said, uncharacteristically defiant. "Fine." And he leaned across the table, grabbed Brendon's face and smushed their lips together.
"Happy now?" he demanded grumpily.
"Yes," Brendon, Pete and Gabe said vehemently.
"Gerard...Mik- no, that's crap, they know everything already. Gerard and...Frank." Somehow, the light that showed the writing on the slip Gabe was holding looked a lot more like Patrick than Frank, but whatever.
"Truth or dare?" he asked Frank. Frank chewed on his lip for a moment, eyes twinkling as he decided.
"Dare," he whispered finally, and either there was something wrong with Gerard's ears or he whispered that seductively.
"Okay, I dare- I, um." Gerard licked his lips. "I dare you to. Come up with a dare?" All he could think of was I dare you to kiss me, which was hardly appropriate.
"Can I?" Frank asked, turning to Gabe, who shrugged.
"I dare myself," Frank said, "to-"
"Is that the time?" Mikey said loudly. "Home. Bye guys!" Everybody's rapt attention seemed to have been on Frank and Gerard, as they all started at Mikey's interruption and one by one stood up and filed out of the room, scraping their chairs and murmuring as they went, throwing glances in Frank and Gerard's direction.
When the room was empty and silent, Frank grinned wickedly at Gerard through his long, inky eyelashes.
"-to tell you," he finished.
"Tell me what?" Gerard asked, confused.
"Tell you about this," Frank said, and suddenly he was leaning forward and pressing his lips to Gerard's again, but this time it was longer, lingering, soft warmth against soft warmth. Gerard tried not to make the un-manliest sound his body could manage, and snaked his hands up to Frank's hair, curling his fingers and just feeling, losing himself in what was probably the only happy moment of his life before Frank would inevitably realise he was kissing a fat grumpy loser and pull away.
"I've been wanting to do that for so long," Frank panted, when he pulled back, eyes glittering.
Wait, what?
"Mikey told me to explain," Frank said. "He said he couldn't stand it anymore, so he blackmailed Pete into getting us together as teammates this year."
"I am so confused," Gerard said, his Frank-hazed brain trying to piece things together, and failing. "So, so confused."
"Basically, what I'm saying is," Frank said, "that I've had a crush on you for...three years now?"
"You- what? Did Mikey set you up to this? Are there cameras somewhere?" Gerard asked, twisting in his chair to make sure there weren't and the whole office wasn't watching the moment on a large monitor laughing at his spectacular catastrophe of a life.
"No, what the fuck?" Frank said, sounding amused. "No, I'm serious. I just kinda. Well. You never really interacted with anyone and, um, I didn't want to, y'know. You seemed kinda."
"Kinda...?"
"Straight."
Gerard burst out laughing, and Frank flushed.
"It's not funny!" he said. "I had to ask Mikey and everything!"
"Why didn't you just talk to me?" Gerard asked. "I could have told you that."
"Where's the romance in that?" Frank asked. Gerard was about to ask where the romance was in asking the other party's little brother, but Frank stopped him with another kiss.
That was cool. He'd settle for that too.
-
"We should rename it," Pete said to the congregated group of office workers, watching the CCTV footage of Frank and Gerard on a large monitor. "We should rename it 'Pete And Gabe's Week Of Matchmaking'."
"You'd just use that as an excuse to go fuck in the office," Bob said.
"We need an excuse?" Gabe said, sounding genuinely surprised.