Babysitting The Ways (VERSION ONE)

“Can you babysit, tonight Frankie?” Donna asks. Her voice over the phone is pleading. Frank thinks it’s kind of rude; he hardly knows the girl (his mom is her scrapbooking buddy), and here she is trying to dump him with her ugly children.
“How old are your kids?” Frank questions, trying to bepolite. What he really wants to ask is how much money he’ll get watching the little brats.
“Gerard is sixteen and Michael’s thirteen,” she answers.
Wow, sixteen seems pretty old for a babysitter. Maybe the kid is really reckless or something and can’t be trusted home alone. Frank can’t deal with troublemakers; nobody listens to him except for little kids, and that’s just cause he can fake a smile and play house with them until he’s earned their respect. “I’m sorry, I would’ve if you had told me sooner, but I-”
“Oh, I forgot. The pay is 50 dollars for eight hours,” Donna tells.
Frank’s eyes bulge out of his head. 50 dollars?! That’s four t shirts, or five CDs, or a whole bunch of Lunchables! “I can do it! What time do you want me there?”
Frank heads over later that night, the cold breeze nipping at his ears and freezing his cheeks. He would’ve driven, but the Ways lived so close by, just a mere block, it seemed kind of unnecessary. But now that the brisk air is biting at him, he wishes he’d taken the fucking car. He has a backpack strapped onto him, containing his X Box, controllers, some video games, porno magazines (Hey, he has to get these kids to like him), and his mandatory box of cigarettes. Once the two go to sleep, then he’ll smoke. He hasn’t had a cigarette all day, and he’s definitely craving one now.
His stomach gives a low growl. It’s four forty five now, so he figured he better not snack right before heading over; last thing he needed was a stomach ache or something while watching as sixteen year old who could possibly be a delinquent.
Frank rings on the doorbell, to receive a quick answer by Donna. “Oh, hi Frank. Gerard’s downstairs painting in his room, Michael’s playing Xbox, make whatever you can find for dinner, and make sure that both the boys do their homework. Any questions?”
“No,” Frank responds.
“Bye, bye, Frankie. I’ll be home at 1:00!” Donna calls.
Frank steps into the large house as Donna leaves, shutting the door behind her. Frank gazes around the empty living room, deciding to go up the steps and look for one of the boys.
He starts cautiously up the steep, wooden steps. Once he gets to the top he sets his bag at the top of the staircase, looking around for Michael’s room. He hears the noises of a video game: guns, people screaming, crappy metal music, and follows the noise into a blackened room.
He turns on the light switch, to see a lanky boy sitting on the floor, his eyes glued to the TV. His controller is gripped so tightly by his large hand that his knuckles are becoming white, and the pictures on the TV are reflected onto the lens of his horn rimmed glasses. “Hey! Fag! Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?!”
Wow, Frank’s off to a great start with this one.
“Hey! Nerd! Haven’t you ever heard of I’m your babysitter, so show me some respect,” Frank barks.
Michael pauses the game, tossing his controller to the side and turning to face Frank. “You’re a guy and you’re spending your free time babysitting teenagers? Wow, tell me, how does one manage to be so gay?”
“Shut up! Why don’t you go get your brother for me?” Frank orders.
“Fine, but just cause it means I’ll be away from you,” Michael growls. He shoves past Frank roughly, grumbling choice words under his breath.
Frank follows after a few seconds, to hear a loud descending banging noise continued by a hard thump. He hurries over to where the noise came from, to see Michael at the foot of the steps, clutching his knee. He’s almost crying, and is writhing in pain.
“What happened?” Frank asks, taking the steps two at a time. He kneels next to Michael.
“Some idiot left a bag on top of the steps!” Mikey groans, rolling into a fetal position.
Shit. “Let me see,” Frank demands, moving Mikey’s hands. He rolls up Mikey’s pant leg to show his knee, which is already starting to bruise.
“What was that noise?” someone worries.
Frank looks over to see a boy standing there. He has smoky, dark hazel eyes that contrast nicely against his jet black hair, which hangs to his shoulders. He is pale and angelic looking with a tiny nose that could as well of belonged to a female model rather than a teenaged boy, and a slight build.
“Michael fell,” Frank responds.
“My name’s Mikey, cocksucker,” Mikey snaps from the ground.
Frank flips Michael- no Mikey- the bird. “Shut up. I’ll get you some ice, okay?” Frank gets up and leaves, returning with an ice pack. He presses it to Mikey’s leg, to hear the smaller boy wince at the coldness of it. “Oh my God don’t be a pussy.” He pushes it harder against Mikey’s leg, pointing out, “That’s how it works best.”
“Fuck you,” Mikey spits.
“Give me a break, you little prick!” Frank shouts.
“You… you can’t talk to my little brother like that,” Gerard interjects. He’s torn; he has to stand up for Mikey, but his brother is being kind of a dick right now.
“Sorry, kiddo, but your little brother’s being a bit of an asshole,” Frank responds. “I’ll be back.”
Frank heads to the top of the stairs, scooping up his backpack. On his trip back down the steps, he hears Mikey exclaim,
“That was your backpack that tripped me!?”
“Shut up, read this,” Frank orders, unzipping his bag and pulling out a nudie mag. He hands it to Mikey, who is immediately quiet, flipping through the magazine with his mouth hanging open slightly.
“You can’t give him that!” Gerard yells.
“Gerard, calm the fuck down; I’ve seen tits before,” Mikey cuts in, still staring at the magazine. He adjusts his glasses, muttering, “Damn, she’s hot.”
“Oh my God, I need a cigarette already,” Frank moans, rubbing his temples. He opens his backpack, retrieving a pack of cigarettes. He slams the end of the box against his palm until a cigarette falls out. He places it between his lips, searching his pockets for a lighter. He can’t find one, and God, he’s really desperate for a smoke right now. “Anybody got a light?”
“I do,” Mikey answers, holding up a cheap plastic lighter.
“Mikey!” Gerard gasps, clutching a hand to his chest.
“Thanks man,” Frank tells, outstretching his hand for the lighter.
“On one condition,” Mikey begins, holding the lighter out of Frank’s reach.
“What is it?” Frank grumbles.
“I get to smoke one,” Mikey continues.
“No! Fuck you; they’re mine,” Frank snaps, reaching for the lighter.
Mikey pulls it further out of Frank’s reach, threatening, “I’ll tell my mom you shoved me down the stairs.”
Frank retorts, “I’ll tell your mom you smoke.”
“I’ll tell my mom you touched me inappropriately!” Mikey combats.
“I’ll tell your mom you looked at a porno mag!” Frank barks.
“You gave me that mag!” Mikey points out.
“Shit! I did!” Frank realizes. He grins evilly, warning, “If you don’t give me that lighter, I’m going to have to take it from you, you little shit.”
Mikey grabs the waistband to his blue plaid boxers, lifting them above the hemline of his jeans. Frank watches as Mikey drops the lighter inside his underwear, letting go of the waistband. “I dare you.”
“Fuck!” Frank curses. He sits there, glancing over at Gerard, to see that he is looking right back at Frank. He stands, announcing, “Oh my God, duh, I’ll just use the stove.”
He starts towards the kitchen, just to hear Gerard inform, “It’s electric. No flame.”
Frank groans as he reenters the living room, Mikey smirking up at him, and Gerard watching, interested, from his spot next to the couch. He gazes around the room, considering using a hairdryer (Let’s be honest, between Mikey and Donna, someone has to have one) to light his cigarette, when he spots a lit candle.
“Ah hah!” Frank boasts, running over. He holds the end of the cigarette into the flickering flame, to see it light. He takes a long puff, exhaling slowly. He sits down beside Gerard, who had at some point taken a seat. He takes another drag, holding it in for as long as he can before letting it out.
Gerard coughs, waving his hand to try to clear the smoke.
“Want to try it, little man?” Frank offers, holding the cigarette out for the kid.
“How come he gets one!?” Mikey demands from the floor.
“Um, gee, I don’t know, maybe because he wasn’t being A TOTAL DICK TO ME, MIKEY!” Frank barks. He then turns to Gerard, smiling as he sweetly encourages, “Come on, hon. It won’t bite.”
“S-sure, I guess,” Gerard mumbles, taking the cigarette. His hand trembles as it goes to his mouth, putting the cigarette between his lips. He takes a pretty big puff for a first time, and immediately coughs it out into huge grey clouds. He starts to gag, and Frank rubs his back as Mikey guffaws from his position at the foot of the stairway. Gerard looks up at Frank, his face almost green, so Frank scoops Gerard up, taking him to the bathroom. Frank pats Gerard on the back as he vomits into the toilet. Gerard wipes his mouth on his sleeve, flushing the toilet and standing.
“I’m sorry,” Frank apologizes. “Really, I didn’t expect that to happen.”
“It’s okay,” Gerard assures, even though he’s now scarlet from the embarrassment of the whole situation.
Frank ends up making frozen pizza, and he makes two. Mikey eats an entire cheese one himself while he and Gerard split a supreme.
Mikey goes back upstairs to play video games after supper, leaving Gerard and Frank alone.
“So, what do you want to do?” Frank asks.
“Um… are you into horror movies?” Gerard questions hesitantly. He’s bracing himself for being called things from a freak, to a psycho, to a geek.
“Hell yeah I am!” Frank chirps. “Which ones do you have?”
“Well, I got the remake of Evil Dead….” Gerard starts.
“I’ve seen it,” Frank replies.
“Wasn’t it so good?” Gerard gushes.
“Oh my God, yes,” Frank agrees. “But the part when the girl chops off her arm-”
“Perfect scream,” Gerard interrupts.
“You read my mind, man,” Frank responds.
They sit there for a while in silence, faded smiles on their faces.
“Want to go watch it?” Gerard suggests.
“Duh!” Frank replies, and the two boys both clamber to their feet, Frank bolting down the steps after Gerard to his room in the basement.
Two hours later, it’s eight o’ clock. Gerard glances up at the clock, and groans, “Shit. I have to do my homework.”
“I better get Mikey to do his,” Frank tells.
“Oh, good luck with that,” Gerard chuckles.
Frank goes up to Mikey’s room, making a big show out of knocking on the door.
“Yes?”
“Mikey you have to do your homework,” Frank instructs.
“No,” Mikey responds.
Frank steps into Mikey’s room, demanding, “What’d you say?”
“I said, no,” Mikey repeats.
“Do your homework, you little shit,” Frank orders.
“No, fuck you,” Mikey retorts.
Frank grabs Mikey, slinging the gangly boy over his shoulder. He spots Mikey’s backpack in the corner of the room, and takes it, bringing the load down the steps.
“Put me down!” Mikey shouts, pounding on Frank’s back.
Once Frank’s at the bottom of the steps, he feels his Misfits boxers being yanked up into his ass by a certain someone named Mikey.
“Ow!” Frank yelps, getting Mikey off of him. He rubs his sore ass. “What the fuck’s wrong with you!?”
“I don’t want to do my homework!” Mikey demands, stamping one of his feet.
“Why? What’s the big deal?” Frank asks.
“He can’t do math,” Gerard explains from the other room.
“Fuck you, Gerard! I can so!” Mikey insists.
“Then do it,” Frank replies.
“Fine!” Mikey huffs, grabbing his bag and stomping into the kitchen.
The two brothers sit quietly for the first ten minutes, diligently working. That’s when Frank notices Mikey staring at a single problem, a hand twisted in his fawn hair and his face flushed with frustration.
Frank kneels next to Mikey, asking, “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t do problem number 12,” Mikey answers through clenched teeth.
“Oh. Well, let’s see,” Frank murmurs, sliding the paper over in front of him. “Oh. You accidently added one and five instead of multiplying. That’s why you’re not getting the answer.”
“Thanks,” Mikey mutters, taking the paper back.
“Mikey, such a surprise to see you so polite and-” Frank begins.
“Shut your fucking mouth!” Mikey cuts in.
Gerard finishes his homework at 8:30, but Mikey’s still pounding out his English essay.
“Gerard, since you’re done, why don’t you give Olivia a bath?” Frank suggests. “I’ll help, if you want. I love dogs.”
“Sure,” Gerard agrees. He stands, calling, “Olivia!” A black, brown, and cream patterned Chihuahua trots up, panting. Gerard picks the small dog up and leaves the room.
“Holler if you need help, Mikes,” Frank tells.
“Won’t need it,” Mikey replies confidently, pushing his glasses further up onto his nose as he writes.
Frank follows Gerard into the bathroom, where Gerard is filling the bath with water. He dumps the dog in, apologizing,
“I know, I know you hate it.”
Frank watches as Gerard carefully bathes the dog, singing to her the whole time. As he rubs the dog shampoo into the wet fur of her back: “She’s the kind of girl you want so bad it makes you sorry….” As he rinses her off: “Let’s hear it for America’s suitehearts…...” While he lifts her out of the tub: “How could you leave me at the Wuthering Heights…..” When he’s patting her dry with a towel: “I came out swinging from a south Philly basement…”
Gerard’s fumbling to get her collar back on, and I decide to compliment,
“You have a beautiful singing voice.”
“Oh, not really,” Gerard insists, blushing.
They give the dog a treat for enduring the twenty minute torture, and return to the kitchen, to see Mikey raiding the snack drawer.
Frank heads over, taking the bag of Cheetos from Mikey’s hands. He holds it behind his back, asking, “Did you finish your homework?”
“Not yet,” Mikey admits.
“Then no Cheetos,” Frank replies, shoving them under his shirt.
Mikey groans as he returns to his table, finishing his homework.
At 9:30, Mikey goes to bed, which is a whole other hassle.
“Mikey, it’s bed time,” Frank informs.
“Then go to bed,” Mikey jokes.
“I’m serious, go to bed,” Frank orders.
“No. I’m not tired,” Mikey replies, his eyes glued to his phone.
“Well you will be tomorrow if you don’t go to bed now. It’s a school night, come on,” Frank instructs.
“I said no!” Mikey snaps.
“I’ll give you a nudie mag,” Frank bribes.
Mikey puts his phone away, standing and starting up the steps to his bedroom. “I want the one with the blond girl in the baseball cap.”
Fuck, that’s Frank’s favorite issue. “Fine.” He goes over to his backpack, plucking it from there and handing it to Mikey.
“Thank you,” Mikey says. “Night, Frank.”
Frank smiles. Mikey actually said goodnight to him. “Goodnight, Mikes.”
Gerard’s bed time isn’t till 11:00, so Frank heads down to his room, bored.
Gerard’s drawing at his desk, the room dark except for a single lamp.
Frank stands next to him, looking through the stack of drawings in one corner of the desk. “Wow, kid. I’m impressed.”
“Th-thanks,” Gerard stutters, blushing.
“Seriously, where’d you learn to draw like this?” Frank questions.
“With a lot of practice,” Gerard answers quietly.
“So, do you want to watch another movie? Upstairs, maybe? It’s freezing down here,” Frank complains.
“Sure,” Gerard agrees. “But I have to go to bed at 11:00, so…”
“Not if you don’t want to,” Frank responds.
Gerard smiles at him, and rushes over to his collection of DVDs, tucking at least three under his arm before leading Frank upstairs.
The two watch horror movies on the couch, cuddled up in blankets. Halfway through Would You Rather, Frank lights another cigarette, moaning lightly with relief as he inhales the toxins.
Gerard watches him with awe, his green eyes wide.
“C-can I try again?” Gerard asks timidly.
Frank grins. “Sure, here.” He holds out the cigarette to Gerard, who takes it with shaky fingers.
Gerard presses it to his lips, taking a smaller puff than last time. He lets it out almost flawlessly, coughing just a tiny bit. “Can I keep this one?”
“Yeah,” Frank allows.
They watch the movies until they hear Donna’s car pull into the drive way at 1:20 in the morning.
“Shit! Run, run downstairs!” Frank instructs, shoving Gerard off of the couch.
Gerard hustles from the floor, stopping halfway through the room. “Frank?”
“What is it, kid?” Frank questions.
“Thanks. This… this was fun,” Gerard thanks.
Frank smiles so hard he feels like his face might split. “Goodnight, Gerard.”
“Night Frank!” Gerard calls as he sprints out of the room.
Donna enters no sooner than Gerard turned the corner. She thanks Frank for watching the kids, pays him his money, and asks how her kids behaved.
“Oh, they were great,” Frank assures. “Little angels.”
The next day, Frank gets a call from Donna. Apparently, Mikey and Gerard said he did a great job, and want him to babysit again when Donna’s going to Mexico this spring break. It’s a two week job, and she promises Frank 150 dollars.
“I’ll do it,” Frank tells immediately. But this time, not for the money.

Notes

Thanks so much for reading! This is one of my favorite fics I've written, by the way. Please comment, and rate this story!

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