Title: Does this make me look fat?
Genre: Romance/Domestic Fluff
Rating: PG13 for language
Fandom: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Summary:Frank is having body issues, Gerard is busy and their dogs are a demanding, but loveable lot.
Word Count: ~1000
Dedication: To the lovely x_missdarko_x,
Disclaimer:This is a work of fiction, not written for profit. I claim no connection with any member of My Chemical Romance, their families or friends. The events hereby narrated are absolutely false and are not meant to reflect the person's private life. No harm, misrepresentation, libel, malice or copyright infringement is intended. At no time is this meant to be construed as reality.
“You know it’s true. I know you don’t give a shit, but you also know it’s true.”
Gerard is busy, he has been busy all morning, between deadlines, songs that all of a sudden must be included in the album and a million of other things, including taking one of their six dogs to the vets after the little beast had discovered Gerard’s stash of chocolate. So, Gerard is busy and he really has no time to deal with this sudden crisis, with Frank doubting himself, the edges of Frank's nonchalance a little too brittle to be completely truthful.
Gerard is busy, but Frank is standing in front of the mirror, shirtless, alternatively pulling and stretching at the flesh on his stomach.
“My swallows are the size of condors.”
Pepper yelps quietly, pulling at Frank’s pants demanding attention, and Frank picks her up and he gets his face thoroughly licked.
“You don’t care that I’m fat, right? You still love me, baby-girl. Don’t you? ”
Gerard doesn’t look up from scanning the press proofs that Dark Horse has sent him, and when he speaks his voice is filled with warmth and a fond kind of mocking.
“I love you too, just so you know.”
Frank puts Pepper down and slips his t-shirt back on, purposely avoiding another look at the mirror. He has never been too vain, or too preoccupied with what he looked like. He has been pretty comfortable with his own body his whole life and, even when he was younger and he wasn’t exactly skinny, he was never worried about what other people may think of him. So, the current state of things it’s a rather annoying one, and makes him feel, not only like a giant girl, but also impossibly mad that he has regressed to a point where the opinion of some faceless internet morons makes him doubt his place in the band, and above all, his place here, with Gerard.
“I’m gonna take the dogs out for a walk.”
Gerard is making notes in red marker on the side of the proofs, crossing off sentences and smoothing lines as he goes. He has the cap of the marker pen between his teeth and looks like a cool college professor, with his wild hair and the look of comfortable ease in the curve of his shoulder.
“All the dogs?”
It comes out all muffled and Gerard picks the cap out of his mouth and tries again, the corner of his mouth stained red with the marker pen.
“You cannot walk all of them on your own. Leave Mama and Pea home, they get tired easily anyway. You can get the rest of this menagerie of ragamuffins and let them run wild for a while. “
Frank grabs the leashes from the hook by the door, and there is a sudden loud clicking of nails on the parquet floor, excited barks and Pepper’s little sniffling yelps. Mama and Pea, as usual, regard the commotion with a bored look before letting their eyes fall close again.
“Gee, ragamuffins? Really? How old are you?”
Gerard flips Frank the finger with a lazy, almost bored motion and doesn’t look up, eyes still trained on the page on his lap.
“Ragamuffin is a perfectly acceptable word, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, if we were still in the ninety-forties!”
Frank’s laughter is one of Gerard’s favourite things, something he knows very well, and something that it’s Frank through and through, and Gerard loves it.
He finally looks up and his eyes meet Frank’s, laughter still lining the soft skin around his eyes.
Gerard stretches an arm across the couch, and Frank drops the leashes and holds out his hand, stepping closer to the couch.
“What?” Because Frank has to know, because when Gerard looks at him with those stupidly beautiful eyes he fucking forgets that he has a will of his own, and he feels like Gerard has just pulled some mad Jedi mind–trick shit on him.
Gerard just smiles, the marker pen forgotten between the folds of the couch; his hand squeezes Frank’s, cool fingers catching against Frank’s calluses.
“You are fucking gorgeous.”
Frank hates that, at almost thirty years old he, apparently, is still a teenager and has the ability to flush to the roots of his hair.
“You’re so gay, Way.”
Gerard squeezes harder and doesn’t stop smiling. “Only for you, baby.”
Frank leans across the couch and kisses Gerard’s mouth with familiar abandon, straining his neck, his hand still holding onto Gerard’s, the fall of Gerard’s bangs brushing his forehead, soft and slick, smelling of smoke.
“Gotta go, or the dogs will eat me alive…“ Frank’s voice is still a bit brittle, doubts and issues still slotting into soft places, cutting and stinging.
“You want me to come with you?”
Gerard really doesn’t have time for it, he will have to stay up all night just to correct the proofs, and Ray wants to work on that new song, but this is Frank and this is not just his life anymore, it’s their life and he doesn’t want to lose it. He is not going to.
“You’re busy.” Frank says, hope clear in his eyes. He likes when they walk their dogs. He likes to think about them as “theirs”, the possessive adjective a reflection of togetherness.
Gerard sets the proofs aside, away from meandering paws, and steals another kiss.
“I can just finish it tonight. That’s why God has invented coffee and very loud punk rock music. Let me grab my coat.”
Frank clips the leashes with practised ease, calming down the more excitable of the dogs, soothing them with low spoken words, scratching behind their ears.
Frank hands Gerard one of the leashes and they close the door with a loud bang, the old hinges moaning in pain. “We gotta have that door fixed, Gee.”
Inside, Mama and Pea barely stir, outside is autumn in Jersey, cold and grey, the dogs already pulling at the leashes, sniffing the air.
Gerard slips his free hand in Frank’s and squeezes, once, twice, until Frank turns to look at him with a smile.
“Lead the way, gorgeous.”
“So gay, Way. So gay.”
The air stirs cold around Frank’s laughter, and Gerard inhales deeply, kissing the cold off of Frank’s mouth.