Give me all your pills..... (Frerard)
A new thing or two!
Frank shoved the blue plastic lunch box in the powerpuff girl bag, grumbling to himself. “Too early for this shit.” Barely seven am, and he had to have Roxas at the Elementary School in less than a half hour. It became harder and harder everyday to drag her out of her bunk bed. She would scream, and scream saying “Daddy please don’t make me go!” and “I hate you! I hate your stupid guts!” She was slowly becoming her mother, and Frank was so scared that she wouldn’t get a single thing from him - perhaps leave out the sociopathic trait, but he had a few redeeming qualities about himself.
“Dad,” Frank looked up to see his red headed daughter poking her small face around the corner of the living room wall separating it from the kitchen. “Can we go for ice cream after you pick me up from school?”
Frank shook his head, motioning for her to come closer. He swung the bookbag over her small shoulders, and turned her around, his inked fingers resting on her upper arms. “I don’t think so, honey,” she looked like she was about to oppose, so he held up a hand. “Come by the shop, and we can whip something up together okay? Xander is gonna pick you up from school.” Her ruffled her hair, and pushed her towards the door.
~
By the time he got to work, he was yelling orders, pointing at pots and pans, and shoving plates into waiters trembling hands like a freight train. Ray’s hair was pinned back in a dalmation scrunchie Roxas had lent him one time, to keep from getting into the dishes he was making in the old brass kettles and saucepans lined up on the greasy oven top. Frank shuffled his way into the kitchen, shoving spoons into colorful foods, and then into his mouth, letting his tongue explore the taste of his menu that day, that was being ladled onto worn out glass plates for customers. Ryan stomped in shortly after he had begun chopping onions for his tomatillo chili.
“What's up?” he said, focusing on the fluid motion of the moving knife. Ryan stomped his foot, colorful scarf jumping off his chest momentarily.
“Have you seen Bob anywhere?” his brown eyes scrunched up in the corners as he scoped out the bustling kitchen area.
Frank stopped for a moment, thinking. “No.”
“Well he never woke me up this morning, fucker made me late.” Ryan sighed, adjusting his belt. Frank took the moment to take the pad of paper and ink pen he had stuffed in his pocket, and hold it out towards Ryan.
“While you’re here, go take orders.”
“I hate you!” Ryan called out as he walked away huffing, the door swinging closed shut behind him. Frank could practically taste the gay seeping out of that man, like cheap makeup and strawberries.
Frank finished chopping the vegetables on the plastic cutting board, then scooped them into the huge steaming chili with his hands, adding a dash of paprika, and following his feet back into the main area of the Diner. He leaned onto the rough wooden counter, watching customers order with huge smiles, commenting on the smells drifting from the kitchen. He was so happy, that he could watch all these people he loved working around him, with him, creating this huge family he never had back in Belleville with Roxas and Charlie - who left him about two years ago, because they had been having more problems with each other. Being cousins with Frank was cool, but having to take care of his kid when she was barely a few years older than him, and picking up the small pieces of glass he’d shattered into was too much stress for her. He was fine now though. New home, business, and a beautiful growing daughter.
“Welcome to Peppered Pansy, how may I do you?” Gabe said to the lady who had just walked inside. She gave him a startled look before awkwardly laughing and pointing at a table, holding up one finger. “Sure thing, babe.” he gave her a menu, and watched her sit down by the window seat. Frank was rearranging the honey sticks when he came over to him. “Hey can you do something for me?”
“Uh, yeah.” Frank replied, half paying attention.
Gabe flicked his gaze over to a guy sitting in the only dark corner in the whole diner, “Bring him his order, I gotta call Brendon. Poke him in the liver for leaving the milk out.”
“All the milk?”
Gabe smiled, “Every bit. Now, coffee.” he shoved a warm cup into Frank’s hands and pushed him out from behind the counter. Frank leaned on it for a second.
“Shouldn’t I be ordering you around? I mean, I own the place.”
“Nah,” Gabe said “Coffee! Go.”
Frank started to walk towards the guy in the corner, the hazelnut wafting up from the cup of espresso he was holding in his hands. The guy didn’t even look up when he set it down on the blue tile table. “Heres your coffee, dude.”
“Hmm?” The guy barely looked up, his white hair falling over the top of his huge sunglasses. He moved a sketchbook out of the way before reaching across the table and grabbing his drink. “Thanks.” Frank started to walk away, when he noticed the guy fold his feet under his chair in a weird way, the toe squished up against one of the legs, purple socks poking out of the top.
Stop. Stop, it’s not him.
“Uh,” somebody coughed behind Frank, the not-guy-who-he-thought-was-that-guy, “Could I get another sugar?”
Frank turned back towards the table, poking around in his apron. “Here,” he said, laying down two splendas, “is your sugar.”
“Thanks, again. I always end up with not enough you know, like not enough sugar in my coffee, not enough-” White haired dude stopped blabbing and grabbed Frank’s arm hard, “I knew a guy with a tattoo like that.” Frank shivers when he runs a finger down the red heart on his forearm.
“A lot of people have tattoos that look alike.” Frank replied stiffly.
Talking guy shakes his head, “Not like that one, no.” he suddenly flips Frank’s arm over, and Frank yanks it back.
Frank turns sharply and scrambles towards the bathroom, hearing someone call after him. He barely closes the door when he’s retching violently into the toilet bowl. When he’s done, Frank feel fan-fucking-tastic. He checks his plaid pullover to see if he got any bile on it (he didn’t) and rinses his mouth out with water like sixty times before deciding he can go back out. “Please be gone.” he repeats to himself, over and over as he walks back to the counter.
When he comes out of the bathroom he notices that the man is just leaving, the door smacking at his heels. Gabe walks over to him, a questioning look on his face.
“I’m fine.” the voice that comes from his throat is more shrill, higher than it should be. Before Gabe can answer, Frank is already halfway out the door, and running down the street. “Hey! Hey, you!” he calls at the guy.
The guy flips around, and sees who it is before turning back around and walking faster away. Frank starts sprinting his fucking lungs feeling like someone lit a match and shoved it down his throat, fire spreading on his pink delicate flesh. “Wait up, asshole!” he says, before falling into step with the man. He grabs the dude’s arm.
“What do you want?!” he hisses at Frank. “I’m sorry I made you so disgusted you had to go purge in the bathroom, but still.”
Frank’s panting, and holds up his hand. “You don’t disgust me, no, I just - you look like someone I knew awhile ago.” he smiles, “A long, long while.” he sticks out his hand for the guy to shake. He reaches out timidly before taking it, and smiling back.
“My names Gerard.” he says, and Frank keeps smiling before he reels the fuck back, and thinks oh shit! Gerard is giving him aodd look, when Frank starts laughing.
“You’re joking right?”
Gerard coughs. “Uh, no, I don’t believe so.”
This is the most hilarious thing Frank has ever heard before, because he is still laughing like a fucking hyena in heat. “My name,” he chokes out, “- my name is Frank.”
Gerard steps back and does a double take. “Hell no.” he says, and cracks a smirk. “Can’t be Frank Iero, could it?”
“It could,” Frank says, wiping the tears from his eyes, “it really fucking could be.”
“Frank Iero.” Gerard says. He looks him up and down, taking in the layer of muscle, new tattoos, and long thick black hair. “You fucking grew up,” his smile drops, “you aren’t a pubescent twenty year old anymore.”
Frank doesn’t reply, just skims his eyes over Gerard. His hair is short, and bleached fucking fluorescent white, clothes layered, black and punky and stylish. Oh, yeah. And hes fucking skinny, and wears eyeliner now. “You changed.”
“I did change.” Gerard says quietly, sadly.
Frank realizes hes also very pissed off right now. “I have to go.” he starts to walk away when he hears Gerard start talking.
“Can I see you again?”
Frank thinks about it before saying “No,” and walking away.
“Dad,” Frank looked up to see his red headed daughter poking her small face around the corner of the living room wall separating it from the kitchen. “Can we go for ice cream after you pick me up from school?”
Frank shook his head, motioning for her to come closer. He swung the bookbag over her small shoulders, and turned her around, his inked fingers resting on her upper arms. “I don’t think so, honey,” she looked like she was about to oppose, so he held up a hand. “Come by the shop, and we can whip something up together okay? Xander is gonna pick you up from school.” Her ruffled her hair, and pushed her towards the door.
~
By the time he got to work, he was yelling orders, pointing at pots and pans, and shoving plates into waiters trembling hands like a freight train. Ray’s hair was pinned back in a dalmation scrunchie Roxas had lent him one time, to keep from getting into the dishes he was making in the old brass kettles and saucepans lined up on the greasy oven top. Frank shuffled his way into the kitchen, shoving spoons into colorful foods, and then into his mouth, letting his tongue explore the taste of his menu that day, that was being ladled onto worn out glass plates for customers. Ryan stomped in shortly after he had begun chopping onions for his tomatillo chili.
“What's up?” he said, focusing on the fluid motion of the moving knife. Ryan stomped his foot, colorful scarf jumping off his chest momentarily.
“Have you seen Bob anywhere?” his brown eyes scrunched up in the corners as he scoped out the bustling kitchen area.
Frank stopped for a moment, thinking. “No.”
“Well he never woke me up this morning, fucker made me late.” Ryan sighed, adjusting his belt. Frank took the moment to take the pad of paper and ink pen he had stuffed in his pocket, and hold it out towards Ryan.
“While you’re here, go take orders.”
“I hate you!” Ryan called out as he walked away huffing, the door swinging closed shut behind him. Frank could practically taste the gay seeping out of that man, like cheap makeup and strawberries.
Frank finished chopping the vegetables on the plastic cutting board, then scooped them into the huge steaming chili with his hands, adding a dash of paprika, and following his feet back into the main area of the Diner. He leaned onto the rough wooden counter, watching customers order with huge smiles, commenting on the smells drifting from the kitchen. He was so happy, that he could watch all these people he loved working around him, with him, creating this huge family he never had back in Belleville with Roxas and Charlie - who left him about two years ago, because they had been having more problems with each other. Being cousins with Frank was cool, but having to take care of his kid when she was barely a few years older than him, and picking up the small pieces of glass he’d shattered into was too much stress for her. He was fine now though. New home, business, and a beautiful growing daughter.
“Welcome to Peppered Pansy, how may I do you?” Gabe said to the lady who had just walked inside. She gave him a startled look before awkwardly laughing and pointing at a table, holding up one finger. “Sure thing, babe.” he gave her a menu, and watched her sit down by the window seat. Frank was rearranging the honey sticks when he came over to him. “Hey can you do something for me?”
“Uh, yeah.” Frank replied, half paying attention.
Gabe flicked his gaze over to a guy sitting in the only dark corner in the whole diner, “Bring him his order, I gotta call Brendon. Poke him in the liver for leaving the milk out.”
“All the milk?”
Gabe smiled, “Every bit. Now, coffee.” he shoved a warm cup into Frank’s hands and pushed him out from behind the counter. Frank leaned on it for a second.
“Shouldn’t I be ordering you around? I mean, I own the place.”
“Nah,” Gabe said “Coffee! Go.”
Frank started to walk towards the guy in the corner, the hazelnut wafting up from the cup of espresso he was holding in his hands. The guy didn’t even look up when he set it down on the blue tile table. “Heres your coffee, dude.”
“Hmm?” The guy barely looked up, his white hair falling over the top of his huge sunglasses. He moved a sketchbook out of the way before reaching across the table and grabbing his drink. “Thanks.” Frank started to walk away, when he noticed the guy fold his feet under his chair in a weird way, the toe squished up against one of the legs, purple socks poking out of the top.
Stop. Stop, it’s not him.
“Uh,” somebody coughed behind Frank, the not-guy-who-he-thought-was-that-guy, “Could I get another sugar?”
Frank turned back towards the table, poking around in his apron. “Here,” he said, laying down two splendas, “is your sugar.”
“Thanks, again. I always end up with not enough you know, like not enough sugar in my coffee, not enough-” White haired dude stopped blabbing and grabbed Frank’s arm hard, “I knew a guy with a tattoo like that.” Frank shivers when he runs a finger down the red heart on his forearm.
“A lot of people have tattoos that look alike.” Frank replied stiffly.
Talking guy shakes his head, “Not like that one, no.” he suddenly flips Frank’s arm over, and Frank yanks it back.
Frank turns sharply and scrambles towards the bathroom, hearing someone call after him. He barely closes the door when he’s retching violently into the toilet bowl. When he’s done, Frank feel fan-fucking-tastic. He checks his plaid pullover to see if he got any bile on it (he didn’t) and rinses his mouth out with water like sixty times before deciding he can go back out. “Please be gone.” he repeats to himself, over and over as he walks back to the counter.
When he comes out of the bathroom he notices that the man is just leaving, the door smacking at his heels. Gabe walks over to him, a questioning look on his face.
“I’m fine.” the voice that comes from his throat is more shrill, higher than it should be. Before Gabe can answer, Frank is already halfway out the door, and running down the street. “Hey! Hey, you!” he calls at the guy.
The guy flips around, and sees who it is before turning back around and walking faster away. Frank starts sprinting his fucking lungs feeling like someone lit a match and shoved it down his throat, fire spreading on his pink delicate flesh. “Wait up, asshole!” he says, before falling into step with the man. He grabs the dude’s arm.
“What do you want?!” he hisses at Frank. “I’m sorry I made you so disgusted you had to go purge in the bathroom, but still.”
Frank’s panting, and holds up his hand. “You don’t disgust me, no, I just - you look like someone I knew awhile ago.” he smiles, “A long, long while.” he sticks out his hand for the guy to shake. He reaches out timidly before taking it, and smiling back.
“My names Gerard.” he says, and Frank keeps smiling before he reels the fuck back, and thinks oh shit! Gerard is giving him aodd look, when Frank starts laughing.
“You’re joking right?”
Gerard coughs. “Uh, no, I don’t believe so.”
This is the most hilarious thing Frank has ever heard before, because he is still laughing like a fucking hyena in heat. “My name,” he chokes out, “- my name is Frank.”
Gerard steps back and does a double take. “Hell no.” he says, and cracks a smirk. “Can’t be Frank Iero, could it?”
“It could,” Frank says, wiping the tears from his eyes, “it really fucking could be.”
“Frank Iero.” Gerard says. He looks him up and down, taking in the layer of muscle, new tattoos, and long thick black hair. “You fucking grew up,” his smile drops, “you aren’t a pubescent twenty year old anymore.”
Frank doesn’t reply, just skims his eyes over Gerard. His hair is short, and bleached fucking fluorescent white, clothes layered, black and punky and stylish. Oh, yeah. And hes fucking skinny, and wears eyeliner now. “You changed.”
“I did change.” Gerard says quietly, sadly.
Frank realizes hes also very pissed off right now. “I have to go.” he starts to walk away when he hears Gerard start talking.
“Can I see you again?”
Frank thinks about it before saying “No,” and walking away.
Please update :(
8/31/14