Title: Rest Stop
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Frank/Gerard (hinted at)
Genre: AU
Disclaimer: This is all completely made up, except for the parts where these people actually exist.
Summary: Frank's life is a hodgepodge of hits and misses, but he's actually pretty content with where he is at the moment.
Notes: This actually came about after I read this post on wolfshirts and the Bandom's Been Snowed In fic meme. I just didn't finish it until now. Past that, I really don't know. It was supposed to be a stupid little short thing and turned into this. *facepalm*



Frank's life is a hodgepodge of hits and misses, but he's actually pretty content with where he is at the moment. The fact that he's almost a hundred percent sure the place he's at right now in life is where Stephen King got the inspiration for The Shining is more of a -

"Oh, that's not good." Allison makes the low tsking noise that never means anything good.

He really doesn't want to, but he looks over to see what she's talking about and oh, yeah. Not good at all.

The sound on the television's muted, but that doesn't keep them from seeing the cloud with the angry scowl and tiny little snowflakes popping out of it. Seriously, whoever comes up with those graphics has either got to be high or just plain fucking nuts.

"Frank - "

"Yeah, yeah." Allison's a nice girl with a nice boyfriend and a shitty job. She also has a couple of rugrats that kick and bite and call him a poopyhead because he won't show them his tattoos, or the nose and lip rings he has to take out when they're around. Allison claims it'll give them ideas, and seeing as how her boyfriend is an avid fisherman, Frank figures better safe than sorry. "Go on, I'll be fine here."

She gives him a smile, and he knows she hates doing this to him all the time, but it's not like he's got anyone waiting up on him at home worrying about road conditions.

Allison looks like she's going to argue with him, and Frank points at the gathering clouds outside the big picture window, eyebrow raised. "If you don't leave now, you're going to get stuck on the side of the road to wait it out, and James won't forgive me if you get eaten by a bear."

She opens her mouth and closes it again. "I thought it was wolves?"

"No, that was last week." Frank explains patiently. "This week it's bears." He can't believe they're actually talking about being eaten by wild animals as though it's a perfectly normal conversation, but he's learned that when four year-olds are involved anything goes.

"Huh."

Frank rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

"You're sure you don't mind?"

"Bears."


====
====


A couple of hours later and it's just Frank, the television, and about an entire forest's worth of stuffed and mounted animals. Deer and elk heads adorn the walls, and there are ducks and other game birds lurking in the hallways on little tables, and, god help him, a fucking black bear in the lobby.

Frank's kind of fond of the little red fox crouched under the ferns in the dining room, though, and aside from Bernie in the lobby, Enrique is the only one Frank's named.

When anyone asks why he bothered to name them in the first place, he just shrugs and says they're the only ones with character.

Which, okay, yeah, might be a sign that Frank's been there too long. That, or the fact that Frank's given up wondering what kind of hypocrite he has to be to work in a place that finds no problem with using dead animals in the décor, and regularly cooks food he doesn't actually eat himself. Beggars and choosers and all that, and anyway, it beats the alternative, and he's not exactly miserable.

He's getting ready to call it a night, take advantage of the storm outside to use the upstairs suite when a bus, an actual bus pulls into the parking lot. He stares for a moment and then he remembers that whole thing about being paid to deal with guests, and hurries to unlock the front doors before sliding behind the counter in the lobby.

Bernie glares at him, and Frank shakes his head because the damn bear's been dead for ten years now, and his beady little glass eyes aren't actually following Frank around the room.

A few minutes later and the front doors open, the bell above them jingles and a guy somewhere around Frank's height staggers in brushing snow off his shoulders and stomping his feet. He stands there for a moment before he notices Frank and then he straightens up and heads over to the counter like he's a man on a mission. That, or just really fucking cold and pissed off at the weather.

"Hey," Frank smiles a little when the guy's cell phone goes off and he makes a face, something between annoyed and apologetic as he turns away to take the call.

Frank reaches over and wiggles the desk computer's mouse, sighing as the damn thing struggles to come out of hibernation mode. It's an older computer, and he's pretty sure it's been there longer than him and Allison combined, but it's reliable and their boss is too cheap to invest in a faster, more powerful one. It takes him a moment to call up the main screen and by then the guy looks like he's just about done with his call, glaring out the windows where they can see the bus backlit by the parking lot lights.

"Long night?" Frank asks as the guy flips his phone shut.

He looks exhausted and annoyed, and Frank kind of feels for him. It's not easy getting through the the mountains, especially when a freak blizzard comes up out of nowhere, and he's pretty sure the guy's not with a tour group. Tattoos and facial piercings don't mix well with the usual crowd Frank's seen come up for a weekend vacation getaway.

"You have no idea." The guy says, and smiles a little. "Please tell me you've got rooms available."

Frank grins and gestures around them. "You're in luck. Nobody else is here right now so you'll pretty much have the run of the place."

"Thanks. We're gonna need..." The guy pauses, glancing out the window at the bus, and then turns back to Frank with a frown. "Do you have rooms with double beds?”

“Five of them.” Frank answers, and the guy looks relieved.

“Four rooms, then. Three doubles, one single.”

Frank nods and opens the program, types in the relevant information when the guy hands over his driver's license and a credit card, and glances at the guy. Brian, according to his driver's license. "Have you ever been here before?"

Brian starts to shake his head, and then obviously reconsiders as he slips his license and credit card back into his wallet.. "No...well, just the driver. Why?"

"Oh, you're definitely in for a treat then." Frank points to the corner where Bernie holds court, standing on his hind legs, forelegs raised like he's about to attack. His lips are peeled back over some seriously scary teeth. "This place is just loaded with atmosphere."

"Atmosphere, right." Brian says, eyes widening. "Right."


====
====


Three hours later Frank's watching television in the dining room with Enrique for company, and most of a pot of coffee flowing through his veins. Normally he'd be trading shifts with Allison or one of the other staff, so it's not like he works unreasonable hours or anything. But with the storm it's just him and a bunch of rock stars until the roads are cleared, and he doesn't trust them not to set fire to the place while he's sleeping.

Past experience being what it is and all.

He stretches and is just about to get up to get something to eat when two of the rock stars in question come into the room. One of them is wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled up over his head carrying a notebook in his hands. A skinny kid maybe a year or so older than Frank trudges along behind him wrapped in a blanket with an irritated look on his face.

They barely spare a look for him when they go past, headed for a booth in the back of the dining room, and Frank sighs and gets up to make a new pot of coffee. Fucking rock stars and their fucking insomnia or whatever it is they're calling it now.

When he's got the coffee pot going, Frank walks over with an order pad to see if the rock stars want anything, and ends up standing there for a few minutes feeling like an idiot.

Skinny Kid's busy texting someone on his phone and Hoodie Guy is busy drawing something. He's sitting hunched over the table, one arm curled around the sketchpad so Frank can't really see what he's doing.

Whatever it is has to be seriously important to have him making that face, but it's been a long day and an even longer night for Frank and he doesn't really care all that much at the moment. He's just about to go back to his table where he and Enrique can watch late-night infomercials in peace when Skinny Kid twists around and kicks Hoodie Guy under the table.

The hand holding the pencil skids over the page Hoodie Guy's been working on when he jerks upright, spitting out a startled "Motherfucker!"

Hoodie Guy turns to face Skinny Kid who's staring back, face completely blank.

"What the fuck, Mikey?"

Frank tries not to smile, thinking Hoodie Guy kind of deserves it because Frank has a shitty job and dealing with jerks doesn't make it any better.

Skinny Kid, Mikey, raises his eyebrows, eyes cutting toward Frank and his stupid order pad. Hoodie Guy blushes and looks at Frank with this...okay. Frank blinks because he actually looks guilty.

"Can I get you guys anything?" Frank's been trained well, mostly because for all that she looks like Pollyanna, Allison is a vicious bitch who won't hesitate to kick a guy in the nuts when she has to.

"Coffee?” Hoodie Guy asks, and he's...that's a really nice smile.

Frank looks at Mikey, and winces when he actually hears the second kick, harder than the first.

Mikey sits up a little more, blanket sliding off his shoulders when he turns to look at Frank and orders the breakfast special.

Frank sighs inwardly, but these guys got in late and Frank's almost certain they had to have been on the road a long time to get stuck here when the storm hit. They're almost fifty miles from the nearest town, and even that isn't much more than a string of businesses five blocks long and a gas station a mile out past that. They're probably starving, and it's not like Frank has to stick to a set schedule during blizzard conditions or anything.

"What? No - "

Frank looks over when Hoodie Guy protests, waiting to see what's going to happen, but Mikey just stares at him, eyebrow raised. Hoodie Guy sighs heavily and slumps back down in the booth and burrows into his hoodie like he wants to disappear.

Mikey snorts and almost smiles at Frank as he adds a side of hashbrowns and a glass of orange juice, like he's celebrating a victory. Rubbing salt into a wound, and Frank smiles a little.

Hoodie Guy mutters something that Frank doesn't quite catch, but it earns Hoodie Guy another kick, and Frank's smile widens.

"It'll be a few minutes - " Frank starts, but Mikey shrugs and says it's okay, and then he actually does smile, and it's not exactly hard on the eyes. Frank smiles back and goes to bring them their coffee and orange juice before heading into the kitchen to get their order ready.

He's not exactly a gourmet chef or anything, but the entire staff knows how to cook whatever they have on the menu – there's no telling who's going to be working when a storm hits after all – and Frank knows what he's doing for the most part.

When their food's done Frank brings it out to them and refills Hoodie Guy's coffee and retreats back to his table where he sips at his coffee and flips through the channels.

So, of course, just when he's getting comfortable and starts following what's going on in the wildly exciting world of real-estate or whatever the hell it is, another rock star comes downstairs into the dining room.

He zeros in on Mikey and Hoodie Guy right away, and Frank stares at him when he walks by because the guy's hair is epic.

Frank looks away, though, when Mikey and Hoodie Guy greet him because they sound happy to see him, like they're family or something, and Frank's not a creepy stalker or anything. Really.

He gets up to check to see if he needs to make more coffee – Crazy Hair Guy's voice is thick with exhaustion, words a little slurred.

When Frank walks over, Hoodie Guy is shoving at Crazy Hair Guy – and really, Frank needs to get some sleep if he's actually referring to these guys like that – who's snitching food from his plate. Mikey's not getting involved, but Frank can see the faint curve of a smile as he looks intently down at his phone.

He doesn't really know these guys - he doesn't recognize them, not like that really means anything - but they're obviously close, and it dredges up memories Frank would rather stay buried. It makes him miss the things he used to have. Things he probably should have tried harder to keep.

Crazy Hair Guy looks up at Frank with a sheepish smile when he asks if he can get him anything.

"Uh. Can you recommend anything?" He asks, sitting back and rubbing his eyes.

"Well, there's the special," Frank says, pointing at Hoodie Guy's plate. "And I'm told I make a pretty good omelet, but everything's good.”

Crazy Hair Guy purses his lips and elbows Hoodie Guy without looking over when Hoodie Guy leans over to poke him in the side, like it's something he's used to. "Okay, I'll have the special too, I guess. Please.”

Frank writes it down and nods. “Anything to drink?"

Crazy Hair Guy looks like Frank's proposed marriage or something the way his face lights up, and it's just about the most hilarious thing Frank's seen in a long time. "Oh god. Coffee, please?"

Frank laughs and writes it down. “No problem.”


====
====


Frank's slouched down at his table, flipping through a magazine and sipping his coffee doing his best not to stare at the three rock stars in the back booth.

Mikey's wrapped up in his blanket again, slumped against the wall and he's still enough that Frank thinks he's actually asleep, while Hoodie Guy and Crazy Hair Guy sketch and drink coffee. Hoodie Guy's got his back against the wall, his legs are stretched out in Crazy Hair Guy's lap and they don't seem to think any of it's weird, like it's perfectly normal and who knows, it probably is for them.

Frank looks up when he hears footsteps on the stairs and Brian comes in with another rock star behind him. This one is blond and looks like an extra from a viking movie or something. Brian barely looks at him as he heads past, but the new guy gives him a measuring look that has Frank sitting up straighter, which...weird.

Brian stops next to the booth with his rock stars, hands on his hip as he looks at the three of them. He's not really glaring, but he doesn't exactly look thrilled with them either. "Get some sleep, assholes."

Frank smiles into his coffee, and turns to another page in his magazine.

He can hear two voices raised in protest, can hear the exhaustion in them and bites his lip because they sound like kids, and seriously, he's trying so hard not to laugh.

Frank sneaks a look and sees Viking Guy take a friendly swat at Mikey's head. Mikey obviously wasn't asleep because he dodges it, blanket falling down to reveal a smile on his face as he looks up at Viking Guy.

"Seriously, get some sleep." Brian says, jabbing a finger at Hoodie Guy who has his mouth open, probably to protest. "I don't care if the goddamned stuffed animals are staring at you, Gerard. You guys need to be rested for the next show, and I'm not going to tell them you couldn't go on because you thought fucking Bambi was after your soul. Christ."

Frank almost chokes on his coffee, and ducks his head when Brian's head snaps around to locate the noise. Frank goes absolutely still, coffee up to his face, and holds his breath when Brian looks right at him.

"You're one to talk, Brian!" Gerard says indignantly. "You freaked out when you saw the owl in your room!"

That brings Brian's attention right back to him though, and oh, wow. That is a glare. It's a mom kind of glare, sure, but impressive for all that.

Gerard's eyes widen and he hunches down into his hoodie again, looking to Mikey and Crazy Hair guy for help, but they're wearing carefully neutral expressions. Obviously not willing to get involved, and Frank feels bad for Gerard because he totally sacrificed himself for Frank.

Frank shakes his head because seriously, it's just like being back in high school again, and that's just incredibly weird and disturbing.

"Gerard - "

"It's kind of like the Bates Motel." Viking Guy puts in, looking over at the stuffed deer head by the television.

There's a long moment of silence, Frank's betting everyone's holding their breath waiting for a perfectly timed flash of lightning and crack of thunder, but since there's a blizzard outside and not a thunderstorm...

Brian rubs his face and shoots Viking Guy an annoyed look. "You're not helping, Bob."

Bob shrugs, but the look on his face says he's anything but sorry.

Frank looks away to hide his smile, catching Gerard's eye by accident. Gerard smiles at him and Frank smiles back because Gerard really does have a nice smile.

"All work and no play - " Crazy Hair Guy starts and Gerard giggles, sagging against his shoulder, hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

"For fuck's sake, you guys." Brian mutters. "Knock it off. We've been driving for five days straight and if they manage to get the road cleared in time there's a show in less than four. Get some sleep, okay? The tour's over in a month, and then you're free to stay up all night and braid each other's hair or whatever the hell else you want to do."

Gerard sits up at the mention of potential hair braiding, and Frank smiles when Brian gives him a forbidding look.

"Please." Brian says, and Frank sees the effect it has on the others, Gerard most of all. Well, no. Gerard reacts first, and the others take their cue from him.

Gerard frowns, head cocked to the side as he studies Brian, but Frank's watching Gerard.

"Yeah, okay." Gerard says, and Brian looks a little suspicious, but Gerard just smiles, beams at him and starts gathering his stuff. The others do the same, and Frank tries to focus on his magazine as they file past.

Gerard gives him a smile that's a little blinding in the dim lighting, and the others smile at him or at least look at him in way that doesn't seem unfriendly when they walk by. Brian stops next to him, hands in his pockets. He still looks tired, older than he probably should.

"Sorry about those assholes." He says, watching the others pushing and shoving at each other playfully as they go up the stairs, laughter drifting back to them. The corner of Brian's mouth pulls up in a exasperated smile.

"They weren't that bad." Frank says honestly. "You should see it during tourist season."

Brian turns his head to look at him. "Yeah?"

Frank laughs, looking down at the magazine, open to an ad for biker boots. "Your guys were tame compared to them."

Brian snorts and scratches his chin. "You're a braver man than me, then."

Frank rolls his eyes, and Brian laughs before setting off after the others. Frank watches him go, and waits until he can't hear his footsteps anymore before he starts cleaning the dishes away.

He finds a fifty under one of the empty coffee mugs, more than enough to cover everyone's bills even with a hefty tip, which is always nice. It isn't until he comes back to wipe the table down that he finds -

Frank stares at the piece of paper for a long moment, and when he picks it up he's careful to only hold it by the edges, like a photograph. Something special.

It's a drawing of him with Enrique the way he must have looked before some asshole hunter brought him down draped around his shoulders, eyes bright with mischief. His tail is curled protectively around Frank's throat, head tipped to the side almost like he's asking a question or offering a challenge, and fucking hell, it's amazing.

Frank laughs, and it comes out a little ragged around the edges.

“You like it?”

Frank starts and turns to see Gerard standing at the entrance to the dining room, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. He's smiling tentatively, like he isn't sure of his welcome.

“I - Are you kidding? I fucking love it.”

Gerard smiles, and it lights up his face. “Okay. Good. I wasn't sure. Some people don't like it when I draw them.”

“No, yeah. This is. This is fantastic.” Frank says, because it is. Gerard smiles at him and looks down, and Frank's almost totally positive he's blushing.

Frank stares at him for a long moment, and really, it's not like it's a hardship or anything, but it's fucking late and Brian seemed really, really serious about Gerard and the others getting some sleep. Frank completely understands because Gerard looks just as run down as Brian and the others, maybe even more so.

“Not that I don't like talking to you or anything,” Frank knows he's going to regret this in the morning. It sucks having to be a responsible adult sometimes. “But shouldn't you be getting some sleep? That guy - “

“Brian.” Gerard supplies, looking up at Frank.

Frank nods like he isn't a sicko freak that was totally eavesdropping on them earlier. “Right, Brian. He sounded pretty serious.”

Gerard makes another face, but doesn't deny it. “He...worries.”

Frank smiles at that, and Gerard sort of scowls. It looks more like a pout, but whatever.

“You guys give him reason to?” Frank has a feeling he knows what the answer is going to be even before Gerard opens his mouth. He's never known a rock star not to give their manager grief, and there's no doubt in Frank's mind that that is exactly what Brian is.

Gerard sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looks away from Frank at the dining room windows even though the drapes are all pulled shut. “Too much sometimes, yeah.”

Frank can hear the things Gerard isn't saying, can fill the blanks in all too easily because he knows how it gets, how bad it can be, but he doesn't ask, doesn't pry. It's not his place, first of all, and secondly...

“You should go to bed, then.” Frank tells him, and smiles when Gerard looks over. “Give him one thing less to worry about, maybe?”

Gerard opens his mouth like he's going to say something, and his eyes narrow as he watches Frank. Frank has to fight the urge to fidget under the weight of his gaze. It's...there's an intensity there that makes him uncomfortable, almost as though Gerard can hear the things Frank isn't saying too, like he maybe knows, which is just. It's -

“Yeah,” Gerard says, nodding. “Yeah, you're probably right. See you later, Frank.”

And then he walks out of the dining room and up the stairs, leaving Frank staring after him wondering how hell he even knows Frank's name when he didn't even give it to Brian.


====
====


The next day they're still snowed in, but it's stopped snowing, which apparently makes it perfectly okay for Crazy Hair Guy and Bob to wade through knee-deep snow to get to the bus.

Frank doesn't know and doesn't care, so long as they don't decide to go for a walk or something and and freeze to death if they get lost. The snowplows aren't expected to be by their way until late afternoon, if at all that day, and it's not like Frank has any real medical training.

“They're going to work on a song.” Gerard says, popping up pretty fucking much out of nowhere while Frank's messing around with the computer. Frank stares at him while he waits for his heart rate to go back to normal. “We tore out the back lounge of the bus and turned it into a studio for Ray. It keeps him happy.”

Gerard shrugs like it has nothing to do with him, but sort of bounces on his feet as he says it, so yeah. Frank's not really buying that.

“Right.”

Gerard tips his head to the side and gives Frank a sideways look, and Frank's eyes narrow slightly. He knows that look, has seen it on Allison's face way too many times in the past.

“They'll probably take a break in a few hours or so,” Gerard says, eyes sliding towards the windows facing the parking lot. “I'm thinking ambush.”

That explains why Gerard's bundled up like he's headed off on an Arctic expedition, the ends of a giant scarf sticking out of the front of the coat he has zipped up to his chin.

Frank can feel his lips twitching, and it's tempting as hell, but he's -

“Oh, come on.” Gerard reaches out to grab Frank's arm, but stops just short of actually touching him. “Everyone else is sleeping and won't wake up for hours. Besides, it's not like they're going to care. There's coffee, and really, that's pretty much all they want.”

Frank still doesn't know these guys, but Gerard's giving him some serious puppy dog eyes, and Frank's only human.

“The hedges on the left side of the parking lot are good cover.” He says, shutting the computer down. Gerard beams at him, and yeah, okay. Frank's only human and he's pretty damn sure it would take a stronger man than him to be able to resist.

Gerard waits for Frank by the front door while Frank goes to get his own coat and gloves, and when he pulls the front door open he's looking back at Frank, so he doesn't see the figure rising from behind one of the hedges Frank had pointed out.

Frank doesn't have time to warn him before a loud whoop splits the air, followed a moment later by the unmistakable sound of a snowball hitting its target.

Gerard swears, but he's laughing too, and reaches back to grab Frank by the arm pulling him into the fray as snowballs start flying fast and furious.

“Come on, come on,” Gerard's still laughing, and they're making for the side of the building away from the hedges. “We have to show those fuckers how it's done.”

Frank grins and ducks to the side, dragging Gerard with him as the attack shifts focus when the others realize where they're headed. They make it to safety and drop down, leaning against one another breathing hard and laughing.

“I thought you said they were going to work on a song?” Frank asks, leaning out to see if he can get a bead on their positions. He jerks back when a snowball comes pelting his way, bumping his shoulder into Gerard's.

Gerard shrugs and starts making his own stockpile of ammunition. Frank watches for a moment before doing the same.

“It's like a snow day, I guess.” Gerard says, molding a snowball in his hands. “We haven't exactly had a lot of those lately.”

Frank looks at him, but Gerard's staring hard at his snowball and Frank lets it slide. Elbows Gerard gently in the side and points at a stand of trees at the edge of the parking lot. There isn't a lot of cover between them and it, but he's sure they can make it if one of them stays behind to provide cover fire while the other makes a break for it.

Gerard eyes the distance doubtfully but nods, and Frank grins as he hefts a snowball of his own. “You go first, and I'll follow.”

Gerard flashes him another smile and breaks cover. Ray and Bob lob snowballs at him the moment they see him, and Frank waits a beat before he leans around and starts throwing. They split their attention between Gerard and him, and whoever's targeting him is good, forcing him to throw blindly, but he's having too much fun to care.


====
====


The snowball fight comes to a stop almost an hour later when Mikey and Brian come out to see what all the yelling is about. Someone – Frank's pretty sure it was actually Gerard, since Ray and Bob are twenty or so feet to the left of the where Brian and Mikey are standing and Gerard's aim isn't that great – hits Brian in the chest with a snowball.

Gerard makes a noise dangerously close to a squeak and ducks down behind the bush they're using for cover, and presses up against Frank, hands over his mouth.

“Do you think he saw?” He whispers, and yeah, it was definitely Gerard.

Frank shakes his head, biting his lip to keep from laughing as Bob stands up and throws two last snowballs, both of them hitting their targets as Mikey and Brian completely fail to get out of the way in time.

“Jesus Christ.” Brian's scowling, but he doesn't exactly sound mad, at least Frank doesn't think so. “Get inside before you idiots freeze to death.”

Frank gets to his feet when he's sure Ray and Bob don't have any hidden snowballs and offers Gerard his hand to help him up. Gerard looks at it, and smiles up at Frank as he takes it.

Brian's holding the door open for the four of them, and Frank's strongly reminded of the way his own mom used to do that when he was a kid, complete with the little scowl. They shuffle past Brian, Frank giving Gerard a push when it looks like he's going to say something to Brian, probably to apologize. Frank catches the looks he gets from Brian and Mikey when he squeezes past them.

Not...angry or anything, just curious and something else he can't quite figure out, but it's more than enough to bring him back to the reality of the situation.

He's supposed to be working, not goofing off, and definitely not getting caught up in a snowball fight with guests. Frank ducks his head and peels off to the right towards employee only areas while Gerard and the others go left for the stairs and the guest rooms.


====
====


Frank makes a fresh pot of coffee, and because snowball fights call for hot chocolate complete with tiny marshmallows, he makes enough for Gerard and the others and brings it out to where they're sitting in the common room in front of the fireplace.

Gerard smiles at him and Frank smiles back before he disappears back into the kitchen. He's not hiding, exactly, but he's not exactly...okay, he is. He really, really is and it's not a good sign because obviously he's turning into a teenage girl or something. And that's. Yeah, no.

He knows he can't actually avoid Gerard and the others indefinitely - he's sort of responsible for making sure they don't starve to death or anything like that while they're stuck there, and he does have a job to do. It'd just be nice if his job didn't involve actual human interaction for once.


====
====


Gerard finds him later after everyone's eaten and Frank's got the dishes cleared and the kitchen squared away in the library chewing viciously on a piece of gum. Smoking's not allowed in the library, not after the incident the previous summer with the damn tourists, and Frank's not going to press his luck when it comes to Allison and her eerie psychic powers.

Technically, Frank's still not hiding, he's just...taking a break or something, but it doesn't stop him from wanting to make an excuse and get the hell out of the room when Gerard takes the armchair next to his.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, and it's not uncomfortable, exactly, but it certainly isn't -

“So I'm not sure what I did,” Gerard says, and he's fidgeting, heel bouncing, picking at the loose threads on the hem of his jeans. “But I'm sorry.”

Gerard lifts his head to look at him and Frank feels like a shit. It's not Gerard's fault that Frank forgot himself, that there's a very clear line laid out between them and he crossed it.

“I just.” Gerard sighs, slumping into the armchair. “You're.” Gerard waves a hand in a gesture that could mean anything and Frank has no idea what's expected of him.

“I'm what?”

Gerard slides a look at him and shakes his head, one side of his mouth pulled up in a smile. “You don't remember, do you?”

Frank looks at him sharply.

“Eyeball.” Gerard says, looking away, and Frank.

Okay it was a long time ago, and really, it's not -

“I mean, we never really talked or anything.” Gerard says, and he's fidgeting again, or maybe still. “Mikey met you once, I think. He said so, anyway. Small world, huh?”

And, no. Or, yes. Frank doesn't know anymore. The only thing he's sure of it is that his life has apparently turned into a goddamned movie – one of those fucking Lifetime ones, and if that doesn't suck he honestly doesn't know what does.

“Yeah.” Frank agrees, and it sounds strained to even his ears. “Small world.”

Except for the part where his band fell apart and Frank ended up living in the middle of nowhere working at the real world version of the Overlook Hotel. He can only hope there's going to be a lot less going crazy and murdering people, and more dead animals staring at him with glassy eyes. And apparently Gerard and Mikey's band is still together and thriving.

“I didn't mean...” Gerard makes a frustrated noise and Frank finds his feet really fucking fascinating all of a sudden, so he doesn't look up.

“I just, it's kind of weird to run into one another like this after so long, you know?” Frank can hear the faint note of desperation in Gerard's voice, like he knows he's said the wrong thing and is trying to make it right. Frank just feels numb, but Gerard has a nice voice, and it's not like Frank can move, anyway. “Out of all the times and places, it's like why now? Why here?”

Frank glances at Gerard and he's leaning forward in his chair with an earnest expression on his face. Frank can see the signs of a major geekout forming, which is just weird because he still doesn't know Gerard even though it feels like he should.

“Who knows?” Frank tries, and it's been long enough that he might be over it. He had his shot and it was nice and everything, but he also has Allison and her little hellions now, and it's not a horrible life.

“Yeah, but, why?” Gerard asks again, and Frank looks at him and smiles when he sees the look on his face.

“Maybe we were meant to meet,” Frank says, and he knows he's smiling like a dork, but it doesn't seem to matter. “Like something out of a comic book.”

Frank's always thought it was just something people said, just a saying, but the smile Gerard gives him at the mention of comic books is like looking at the fucking sun.

“Oh, oh! Seriously? You read comic books?”

Frank nods, still smiling like an idiot and Gerard's off and running, babbling about his favorite comic books and what's wrong with some of the current storylines in the ones he reads. Frank sits back and watches his face and listens to his voice, putting his two cents in on occasion when Gerard takes a moment to breathe or looks at him in a certain way.

And yeah, Frank's life isn't horrible, not if people like Gerard stumble into it from time to time.


====
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For the first time since Frank's worked there, the snowplows get to them when they say they will, and Gerard and the others are all packed up and heading out to leave, finish their tour or whatever. Frank stands behind the desk in the lobby and tries not to stare at them as they troop up and down the stairs making sure they haven't forgotten anything.

Ray and Bob wave at him when they head out the front doors for the last time with the driver and the one guy Frank never actually met.

“That's Matt Cortez.” Gerard says quietly from right beside him, and Frank so does not scream like a fucking girl, no matter what the look on Gerard's face says.

“Jesus,” Frank mutters, glaring at him. “What the hell is up with you?”

Gerard grins, but it looks wrong. “So, I guess this is goodbye?”

And, yeah. Pretty much.

Frank opens his mouth to say something, anything, that isn't lame and therefore probably painfully appropriate for the chick-flick his life has turned into, but Brian sweeps in, a harried blur of energy and frustration.

He puts his hands on Gerard's shoulders, turns him towards the door and gives him a gentle nudge to get him moving. “Christ, come on, we need to get back on the road.”

Gerard twists around to look at Frank, and Frank smiles and lifts his a hand to wave at him. Gerard looks frustrated, but Brian's right there and he's got that seriously scary glare going on, so Gerard rolls his eyes and walks out the door with Brian on his heels.

Frank looks down and tries to focus on what he's supposed to be doing and not all of the annoying "What ifs?" that litter his life like a fucking breadcrumb trail leading to places he can't go back to.

“Here.”

Frank's going to have a fucking heart attack for real one of these days, the way people keep sneaking up on him.

“What the hell?” He says, and looks around to see Mikey staring at him, mouth quirked into the tiniest smile Frank's ever seen.

Mikey shoves a folded piece of paper at him. “He won't call first.” Mikey tells him, like it's any sort of explanation.

Frank stares at him because seriously, what the hell?

Mikey just looks at him, and Frank, okay. So maybe he might possibly like Gerard's smile a little more than he should, it doesn't mean -

“Hurt him and I will set Bob and Brian on you.” Mikey says, eyes narrowing, and it should be ridiculous, but the look on Mikey's face makes Frank think he means business. That, and Frank's seen Bob and Brian, and both of them are equally scary in their own way.

“I...okay.” Frank doesn't know what else to say, which seems to be just fine by Mikey.

Mikey snorts and rolls his eyes and turns to go. He stops by the front door and looks back at Frank for a moment, and then he opens the door and walks through, and Frank's alone again. He looks down and unfolds the paper Mikey gave him and sees several sets of numbers with names next to them.

And then, a little further down in writing he vaguely recognizes as Brian's, is a request for a reservation set a month in advance for one Gerard Way.

Frank smiles a little and fires up the computer to make the reservation.