FicWad

It wasn’t the fact that Frank was scared. No, not really. Frank was an adult, and he knew how to handle himself, okay, he knew. it was just that he had found himself on edge most of the time with Gerard. They had drifted off, if not a little bit, from each other ever since their fight. Frank’s stomach was already starting to show, and for a reason, Frank found himself reluctant to let Gerard touch it. Frank was paranoid, that he knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to let Gerard as close to himself as it once had been.
Gerard about Frank’s reluctance to their closeness, hence the fact that he’s came back to old terms: waking up far before Frank did, washing himself and making breakfast for Frank and himself both. Going to work at exactly eight a.m, coming back home at five. Eating dinner along with Frank, excusing himself to his studio and hide there until he was sure Frank was already asleep. They were both miserable, that he knew; he didn’t miss Frank’s longing glances during dinner, or his troubled behavior during the few times he let Gerard touch him. To think, everything is his fault.
To outsiders it may look like they were making a big deal out of a small fight, but the meaning was held much more farther than this; Gerard was known to keep his promises more often than not, and out of the rare handful of times that this had been the case, it normally had a good intention behind the whole deal. Well, until now, that is. The thing is that Frank has had bad luck with past relationships, of which he only has had two: one with Jamia, a beautiful girl who had won over his heart, and James.
James Dewees and Frank had been best friends since forever, and having known each other better than they knew themselves, no-one raised an eyebrow when they ended up together. This was when Frank had only sixteen years of age, and still had that childish aura to himself. Dewees had been a good six years older than Frank, and had still been single even when he turned twenty-two. There was nobody that shared aspects and likings with him, and the list had been reduced greatly since he is straight. Well, for the most part, since he and Frank were somewhat together.
It had been alright at first. Dewees was a sweet guy, Frank was enchanted by all the stuff his friend did for him. The bad side of it all, though, was that Dewees had a really bad temper. He was much more worse than a nosy girlfriend on that time of the month- always wanting to know what Frank was doing, getting mad if they didn’t speak at least once a day, and he was always wanting to know what he was doing, who was he with, etc… Dewees simply said that he was ‘scared that someone may steal you.’
It was sweet, really, if not a little annoying—Frank had to shut down his phone several times after he got eight calls in five minutes, But. The thing was, if Frank somewhat ignored Dewees—to the smaller degree, like not picking up when he calls—James got somewhat… violent. it started off as a slap after a fight, just like what happened with Gerard: James was mad, for completely different reasons. A second they were yelling at each other, the next Frank was on the floor, a huge, hand-like bruise blooming quickly on his left cheek and he was crying.
They made up, obviously, because Frank was foolish and young and starving for affection, and there is not one day that he doesn’t regret not ending it after the first time it happened. After that, their relationship went spiraling down into a vortex of tears and blood and alcohol. Soon, Frank had to buy make- up more often, James’s apologies became dry and hollow, and their relationship was just senseless. The worst thing was that they both knew, but neither of them wanted to end it since it was all they had. It was destroying them mentally and physically.
Then, just as the whole thing was about to explode, came their salvation: Frank’s eighteenth birthday was just around the corner, and his papers were sent to the leading district so they could be checked and his marriage would be arranged. James had no idea of this, and Frank finally broke-up with him on June, a few months before his birthday. It was painful, and tears were shed. Not only for the loss of their relationship, but for a complete lifetime of friendship- something that could not be renewed over the years or replaced with false romances and pitiful kisses.
Frank was not going to let anything like what happened to him back home to occur again, for both his and Gerard’s sake. He knows that it is all a little bit overrated, what he’s doing, but he can’t help it. Once it’s enough for a lifetime, which he knew. And no amount of apologies and kisses and pets would change his mind. Plus he’s pregnant, and the hormones are worse on a man than in a woman—not only testosterone but also estrogens are produced, resulting in a whole ocean of changing moods and worrying over the smallest things.
Gerard knows all of this, obviously. They talked about it, for god’s sake, and Gerard promised that he was nothing like Dewees. And Frank believes him, for the most part, since the guy is as soft as a stuffed teddy bear. Gerard’s more annoyed than anything, for instance, but the guilt is threatening to overlap this. Frank’s been distant, and his diet’s breaking considerably; it was more of a product of stubbornness, Frank’s refusal to do anything because of his goddamed hormones playing mind games and, oh, maybe it will be fun if we ruin your relationship bwahaha and whatnot.
So, in the past few days, Gerard’s come to the conclusion that either Frank’s chemical measurements are fucked because of the little someone who is, conveniently, growing on Frank’s belly and is making him do and say things, or he’s really, really hurt. It’s probably the first option, though. Gerard refuses to think otherwise because, okay, maybe a guilt trip is the last thing he needs right now. So that brings us to now, when Gerard’s baking cupcakes for Frank, (everybody knows that you’ve got to be pretty fucking special to get Gerard to bake you something) and Frank’s upstairs fooling around with his guitar and being pissy and missing Gerard’s cuddles, but only a little because, he’s still mad, remember?
So Gerard’s sure that his cupcake tactic is totally going to crack Frank, because everybody knows that pregnant women (and men) love chocolate, more if it’s in cupcakes, and, quite frankly, this cupcake batch are the best cupcakes. And it’s amazingly decorated, because they read ‘I’m sorry’ in red skittles, and red skittles are Frank’s favorites. Gerard takes the plate with the twelve cupcakes and puts it in the oven so they won’t get cold and Frank can’t find them before time, because that would ruin it, then calls Frank because, “Honey, it’s time for dinner!”
So Frank comes downstairs and immediately smells the chocolate, and he asks Gerard, “Gee, why does it smells like chocolate?” but Gerard says nothing and only smiles, serving Frank his soup. Frank loves soup, too, and mashed potatoes, so he’s happy enough that he doesn’t question the suspicious aroma for the rest of the meal. Finally, though, as Gerard is taking Frank’s plate and putting it along with his on the sink, he takes the cupcakes from the oven and catches Frank as soon as he’s standing up (with difficulty, since he is already six months pregnant and, fuck that,)
Gerard takes the tiny baked goods and puts them in the table in front of Frank’s chair then takes Frank’s shoulders and helping him to sit down again and, “Hey, it took me a lot of effort to stand up, not fair!” but then shuts up when he sees the goods because, “oh, hey, cupcakes!” and then he sees what the skittles read and his heart melts a little, just because. He looks at Gerard’s expectant face and, hey, how can I be mad at you? So without saying anything Frank takes Gerard’s shirt because he’s too short to take his neck, and simply kisses the shit out of him.
Gerard flails a little, ungracefully, because hey, first time they’ve kissed in weeks, but then kisses back and it feels so fucking good to have Frank’s tongue in his mouth again, and then it’s over too soon and Gerard’s trying to follow Frank’s mouth with his when Frank chuckles and then a second later there’s something sticky on Gerard’s face. It takes more than a second for Gerard to realize that hey, there’s a cupcake on my face, and then another one for, “hey, Frank just smashed a cupcake on my face!”
Meanwhile Frank’s giggling and clutching his stomach which, ow, he’s laughing so hard it hurts and then there’s cupcake bits sticking into his nose and, ew. He sneezes and then there’s mucus tinted with the pink whipped cream and red colorant from the ‘S’, which makes Gerard laugh so much he falls backwards from his position leaning over Frank. Gerard stands up whimpering and hiccupping from all the laughing and then there’s a cupcake on his hair, and, oh, this is war. Frank is trying to stand up, using as an advantage that Gerard’s busy with his hair.
Frank barrels into the living room, cupcakes in hand, when an arm snakes through his wais and then there’s a solid chest against his back and a spicy voice in his ear, and then, “I’ve got you,” and pink whipped cream on his hair and forehead and eyes and general space occupied by his face. Frank squeals and Gerard laughs behind him, and Frank can feel it rumbling on his back more than hears it, and this is all perfect for both of them. Then there’s a pressure on his stomach, which has him giving a surprised “oh,” and one of his hands flies to his belly.
Gerard’s laughter ceases along with Frank’s, instead worried hands finds Frank’s stretched hips and a concerned voice in his ear asking Frank, “Are you alright?” and then there’s a shit-eating grin stretching Frank’s face, and his hand catches one of Gerard’s and has it feeling over one area of his belly in particular and, “oh,” now Gerard’s smiling, too, and with delicate hands there’s a small petting motion and in response and other kick. Gerard’s giggles melt along with Frank’s sigh and then there’s lips on Frank’s sticky hair and, “mhm, the whipped cream was good,”
Frank laughs and turns around carefully, and Gerard’s hands go back to Frank’s waist and they simply gaze into each other’s eyes and smile dopily. Then Frank leans up and Gerard leans down and they kiss again, both of their smiles colliding against one another Frank’s tummy digging into Gerard’s, and then Gerard scoops Frank up in his arms and he squeaks again. then, “What are you doing?” And Gerard smiles again, kisses Frank once more and makes his way up the stairs, careful not to drop Frank’s curious form. Then there’s the bathroom and Gerard’s shirt is off.
Frank’s gaze goes from curious to horrified in such a short time it should be funny, because, hey, half-naked man in front of him and oh, no. then there are hands on the hem of Frank’s shirt and he shakes his head frantically, No, no, what are you doing, Gerard? Then Gerard’s eyes catch Franks and his smile becomes kind and he kisses Frank’s forehead with, “No, let’s take a bath, alright?” and then there’s Frank’s shirt off, and then both of their pants but Gerard leaves their underwear on. And then there’s warm water enveloping him and, oh.
Frank gives a pleasured sigh and then Gerard lowers himself into the tub, too, and Frank’s all, “Need to feel you, need to know it’s real,” because he’s dreamed so much about this (against his will; he was mad, remember?) and Gerard’s surprised because Frank’s nipping and biting at his neck, and then there’s a thin strip of saliva running from his collarbone to his cheekbone, and then there’s Frank’s moan with a “You were right, the whipped cream is awesome,” and then they both laugh, and Frank settles with Gerard’s chest on his back and his lips on Gerard’s.
The kisses heat up in no time, and soon there are tongues and teeth and moans and groans and whimpers, then their underwear somewhat end up with a splat on the tiled floor of the bathroom and the rest is a blur. A finger here, a hand there, desperate whispers against wet ears and moans of pleasure hitting a certain area -A yip, a bark, and claws on the door, but they take no notice- A hand here, a tongue there, Frank’s stomach is in the way—a swallowed shout, and then there are two bodies, panting, and white stains on the water along with the pink islands of cream and cake bits.
Frank’s exhausted, and he falls asleep before, “hey, baby, let’s go to bed.” And Gerard takes it on himself, standing up and carrying Frank to their bedroom, tucking him in ignoring the wet hair and skin. Gerard puts on some underwear and then goes to the bathroom to drain the water and pick up the soaked shorts, then downstairs to clean up the mess they made. When he’s finally done, he tucks himself into bed and Frank immediately cuddles up to him ad it’s all perfect and awesome, and Gerard falls asleep with Frank’s warm form on his side and the soft snores of Mama, on the foot of the bed.


Pretty good for twenty days or something of nothing. I have no excuses apart from that I am a fucking lazy ass and that I had exams… (that was like, two weeks ago, but. Still.) anyways, better late than never, right? Ha, let’s hope this doesn’t happen again, ha. (no promises)
Good vibes, everyone!
xo