GERARD'S POV
Frank sank back against the cushions, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "So, what are we gonna do for the rest of your life?" I rubbed my arm, where the remnants of the electricity were still dancing up it, and picked up the remote with the other hand. "Can we just chill and watch shitty slasher movies? I mean, it's raining, and I wanna make some coffee...." Frank shrugged, pulling out a cigarette and lifting his finger to light it. I grabbed it away before he could, carrying it with me into the kitchen. "Not in the living room, dumbass." He groaned and pulled himself to his feet, following me into the kitchen and pulling out a second cigarette. "Don't be a little bitch Frank, it doesn't suit you." Thinking back, I should maybe not talk shit to the Lord of Hell, but he's not gonna attack me or anything. He said so himself- i'm not in danger. Pouring two mugs of coffee, I turn around to hand him his and he flips me off (for like the fourth time today, but who's counting), simultaneously lighting a cigarette with the tip of his middle finger as he takes his mug. "Would you like some sugar for that, Princess Dickwad?" He leaned over to blow smoke in my face, grabbing for the tub of sugar next to the coffee pot as he did. I shoved him, spilling coffee down my front, and went to open the window. "Dammit Frank, now I have to change clothes. Little bitch." Frank sat on the counter, looking offended as he flipped me off.... again. "If I had known this friendship would come with so much verbal abuse...." Shit, even the devil thinks i'm an ass. What even. "I'm gonna go change out of the shirt that was perfectly clean before you got here..... dick." I walk towards the bedroom and feel a pillow hit the back of my head. "That's what you get when you shove the short guy around!" I rolled my eyes at him, grabbing a Metallica shirt from where it was thrown haphazardly onto my desk and messily pulling the coffee-soaked one over my head. Replacing it, I went back into the living room, only to find Frank sitting on the counter with that 'i-just-fucked-ur-wife' grin on his face and the empty coffee pot in his hand. He had obviously just kinda chugged the ENTIRE POT OF COFFEE. I gave an inhuman shriek of rage and flew at him, tackling him off the counter and pulling him to the kitchen floor with me. Spluttering indignantly, he pulled at my arms, but I had him in a headlock. "Y-you can't just assault the king of hell, Gee!!" He would have sounded a hell of a lot more threatening if he wasn't giggling through the hood of his sweatshirt, which I had pulled over his face. "I spend the time and candles to summon you and you repay me by shoving me off a couch, sullying my Iron Maiden shirt and drinking all my coffee!!" He tried to wriggle free, but I was a lot heavier and it was completely ineffective until- HOLY SHIT HE'S TICKLING ME NO NOPE THIS IS NOT IN THE PLAN HOLY SHIT NO NO NOPE NO-

RULER OF THE TORTURED SOULS
The second I made contact I knew I had found his weakness- he squealed at an alarmingly high pitch and rolled off of me, trying to escape, but I had all the caffeine of an entire pot of coffee on my side, and after about five minutes of squealish giggles, and, later, whimpers, he called truce, panting. I let him stand, and he gave a halfhearted shove at my shoulder before going to make another pot of coffee. I leaned against the refrigerator, running my hand through my already rumpled hair before replying. "Bitch." Gerard elbowed my side. "Jerk."

.oO0Oo.

Gerard introduced me to shitty horror movies, and I will be eternally grateful because fake blood and bad makeup is pretty damn hilarious when you're used to the kind of shit you see in hell. Plus, stupid monsters are hilarious. We basically spent all day marathonning Blockbuster's suckiest one-dollar hits, drinking coffee and arguing over random stuff. Basically, it was the best time i'd had in a long time, being the King of Hell. Maybe this 'best friends' deal wasn't as weird as I had originally assumed.....

Notes

IDK if it's too fluffy, and honestly IDC.