You Can't Push It Underground

Frank honestly doesn’t know how to break the news to Brendon that Gerard was so wrong for him. On one hand, Brendon can’t honestly have thought that they would make any sense together, but on another hand, he’s a still a little frazzled by the whole ordeal.

Gerard had obviously been judging him. Frank’s used to it, but to hear it from someone so calmly and unadulterated is just obscene to him. It’s not like Gerard’s life was any different in Frank’s eyes, but he didn’t exactly chisel it out in stone to Gerard. Maybe it’s just because Frank’s not used to being turned down like that. It’s true, that he really isn’t, so it’s awfully strange to be cast aside so quickly and firmly. Fine with him, he didn’t like Gerard that much anyway.

Except for the fact that he did kind of like the guy.

He shared absolutely no traits with the guys Frank usually likes, but that didn’t seem to be a big problem. Except for the awkward bits of conversation near the beginning and the end, it had seemed like they were really getting along. He was kind of a strange guy, because nothing he said was what Frank expected to hear him say. He always had a different approach to conversation that hadn’t been anticipated. It was refreshing. Having a conversation that was so utterly different than the ones that he’d usually had, was nice.

He was so obviously distracted half the time though. It had been hard to get him out of that shell, like he’d built himself a cocoon to stay away from other people, but Frank’s pretty sure he chipped away at that barrier a little bit. It wasn’t a large amount, but enough for him to be able to tell what Gerard might have been like if he was actually focused on Frank rather than some ex. He’d probably be a really great guy if he weren’t so caught up in that drama.

That’s one of the most upsetting reasons to Frank about the date. Had he talked to Gerard two years ago, he probably would have met a completely different person then he had met today. Probably someone more open and lively. He’d have had the same principles obviously, but still, he’d have been so much more jovial.

It’s still Saturday so Brendon arrives at Frank’s house looking hopeful, but there’s obviously that heir of confusion. Brendon realizes that the date can only have ended a little while ago, and yet when he gets to Frank’s house, it’s empty apart from the short man. While a lot of him is shocked by that, most of him is kind of proud of the fact that Frank finally met his match. Frank usually never comes to a place where he can’t get into a guy’s pants, that’s his greatest talent. Gerard isn’t there though, so obviously Frank hit rock. He couldn’t do it, which is perfectly fine in Brendon’s eyes, because that must mean that the guy he chose had more self-esteem then he’d originally thought, but the question is how will Frank take it?

When Brendon had met the guy he’d definitely seemed like he might be weak, or easy prey, because of the fact that he really was so hung up on another guy. Brendon was a little nervous that setting him up with Frank could make that worse. Could make him do something rash, that he’d regret, but apparently Gerard was a lot more contained than he’d looked.

“Brendon, there was just nothing. Like I know you were excited about him, but honestly there was nothing,” Frank says, but that’s a lie.

“Are you sure?” Brendon asks, raising an eyebrow. “He’d seemed so... I guess different to your usual, and I thought it was in a good way.”

“No that was what I didn’t like,” Another lie, “he was way different then everyone I usually talk to. I didn’t understand him, I guess. He was kind of, like, I don’t even know. He was so...”

“Well that makes a lot of sense. I just thought he was different. Threw someone different in the mix. I thought there would be more of a reaction, which sucks, but if you didn’t like him, I guess I can’t do anything about that.”

“Well, see, the thing was that he didn’t really like me,” Frank says, “I mean, maybe if he wasn’t so fucking in love with that ex than maybe I’d have been able to get a little more out of him, but he was still stuck on the dude, so I don’t think I even really met him. I don’t particularly care though, he wasn’t for me. End of story.”

“Gotcha, sheesh. I’ll go back to the drawing board. Are you sure you’re not just being too picky?”

“No, I’m positive I’m being really picky, but that doesn’t mean that Gerard was for me. Maybe he was right for you, but no, there was nothing. Not a thing,” Frank says. Lie.

“Okay, well I’ll keep looking, I’ll get another guy, and you’ll be able to forget about Gerard, jeez though why do you look so uncomfortable?”

“It was so awkward! I hardly ever get embarrassed, but the whole thing was stunted and weird,” Frank says. Lie. “There wasn’t a point in the whole date where I actually felt he was being honest or nice. It’s got me all shaken up.”

“I see that. We can go out for drinks tonight then and take your mind-”

The doorbell rings.

“Motherfucking Christ,” Frank says, gritting his teeth, and staring at the door to the entryway. He can’t see the front door, but he knows who’s there already. The living room doesn’t have windows on that side of the wall, and there’s a big section of wall restricting view from the hall that leads to the door.

“Are you going to get that?” Brendon asks.

“No it’ll ring again,” Frank says, and as if on cue, the doorbell rings again.

“How long do we have to wait until they’ll go away?” Brendon asks.

“They’re not going to go away!” Frank yells, looking at Brendon with irritation, “they were probably watching out their window and saw you come in! They know someone’s home, so they’ll stay there until they grow cobwebs.”

“Well why don’t you go answer it?”

“I can’t make it that easy. I have to get them to wait a while. They have to know-” the doorbell rings and Frank makes an inhuman noise, “that they are unwelcome before I open the door.”

There’s knocking on the door then, and Frank knows what that means.

“Brendon get on the floor!” Frank says, and Brendon looks at him like he’s officially lost his marbles.

“On the floor, behind the couch,” he yells again, and grabs Brendon shirt, to pull him around the piece of furniture. He drags him to the floor and Brendon is pretty sure that his friend has lost his mind.

“Would you mind explaining what we’re doing?” Brendon asks.

“Once they start knocking it means that she’s going to bang against the door to distract me, while he walks around the side of my house and looks into the window. He’s looking in here right now. No don’t look,” Frank almost yanks Brendon’s shoulder out of its socket when he tries to peer around the couch, “he’ll see you. He has the eyes of a hawk.”

“You are like a prisoner in your own home,” Brendon says shaking his head, “this cannot go on, they’re driving you mad.”

“I know! I have a serious problem!” Frank says, eyes wild.

“When do you answer the door?”

“I’ll give it five minutes,” he says, and Brendon rolls his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll go answer it,” Brendon says, trying to stand up, but Frank pulls him down again.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asks.

“Answering your door,” he says like it’s obvious. “it’s annoying me too.”

“Why? They’ll only give you the same deal,” Frank says.

“I’ll tell them that you want them to go away, but are incapacitated to answer the door right now,” Brendon says.

Frank dwells on it for a moment, “What are you going to tell them?”

“I don’t know? Taking a shower?”

“No, not good enough. Showers only last like ten minutes! Twenty minutes tops,” Frank says, “gotta come up with something better.”

“What then?” Brendon asks, looking so done with the situation already.

Frank bites his lip and thinks again for a moment, “take off your shirt.”

What?” Brendon asks, aghast.

“Shirt. Off. Take your shirt off! Tell them I’m currently entertaining company or something really sketchy like that,” Frank says.

“Why?” Brendon asks, seriously worrying about Frank’s sanity.

“They’re afraid of thinking about me having sex with other dudes. If a shirtless guy answers the door, they’ll realize that you and I are probably doing something. Let them think what they think, it’s their fault if they jump to that conclusion.”

“You’re crazy!”

“Maybe, but do it,” Frank says, trying to tug the shirt off Brendon himself, but he bats him away. “Please, Brendon! I will buy you a pony.”

“I don’t want a pony,” Brendon says.

“I won’t buy you a pony then. I will owe you a favor though. Please? Please!” Frank says, and the doorbell and knocking is still persisting, more relentless than it was a minute ago.

“You’re just lucky I look good without a shirt,” Brendon says, with annoyance, and also quite a bit of disbelief that he’s actually doing this.

“Thank god, I fucking love you Brendon,” Frank says.

“You’d better,” Brendon replies, pulling his shirt off stubbornly.

“Wait!” Frank says before Brendon goes anywhere.

“What now?” Brendon asks.

“Hair,” Frank says, like it’s obvious. He takes a hand and messes Brendon’s hair up quickly.

“What’s this for?”

“Sex hair,” Frank says, like it’s obvious.

“You definitely owe me one for this,” Brendon says, crawling over to the doorway where he stands up. He then gives Frank a final look that is so far past annoyed that Frank almost feels guilty about using Brendon like that.

He hears Brendon unlocking the door, and then the faint sound of it swinging open.

“May I help you?” he asks.

A short conversation consisting of Brendon combating everything they try to say with, ‘I’d really like to get back to what I was doing,’ and Frank isn’t the least bit surprised by the responses he gets from the Sinclair’s. It takes at least five minutes to get them to leave, but Brendon has some talent in ending the conversation.

He walks back into the room a minute later, and grabs his shirt.

“The insinuation that I would ever sleep with you is absolutely repulsive,” Brendon says, pulling his shirt back over his head.

“Thank you for that though!” Frank says, standing up.

“Yeah, you’re buying tonight though.”

“I thought the point was to get my mind off of the botched date with the guy you set me up with,” Frank exasperates.

“That was before you made me answer the door and pretend I was in the middle of fucking you. Gross, Frank.”

“At least it worked!” he replies, but he has to admit that Brendon is a damn good friend to do that for him.