The One Where Frank And Gerard Meet Bob The Lumberjack.

[chuckaloonie]

So, gracie321 posted the Reverse Ficlet meme, and one of her prompts was BOB BRYAR, THE MOST ADORABLE LUMBERJACK IN THE FOREST, and of course, I just couldn't resist to write it. However, not only did it ended up being too long to be considered a ficlet; but it also ended up focusing more in Gerard and Frank than in lumberjack!Bob. Apparently, my brain is a traitor and wants to boicot me every time it can. So Gracie, here's my answer to your prompt, which I think still fits because there's a Bob who's a lumberjack and he's adorable; even if he's not the main caracter of the fic.

Title: The One Where Frank And Gerard Meet Bob The Lumberjack.
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: PG-13, for swearing and mentions of sex (non-explicit).
Warning: Unbeta'ed.
Summary: Frank and Gerard get lost in the woods. After walking for hours, they find a cabin, and meet Bob; who turns out to be the most adorable lumberjack ever.

Frank and Gerard have been walking for hours. The forest looks exactly the same, no matter how much they walk; just trees and bushes and rocks and nature. They’re tired, and hungry, and scared; and Gerard also feels guilty, on top of everything else, because renting a cabin in the woods was his idea. Not that it was a bad idea or anything. In fact, when Gerard suggested it, Frank was ecstatic; bouncing and beaming and talking about how amazing it would be to spend a whole weekend alone, without any kind of technology to distract them, just eating and sleeping and having lots and lots of wild sex. However, it had also been Gerard’s idea to leave the cabin and go for a walk.

In all honesty, Gerard really didn’t want to go for a walk. It’s just that he’s no longer a teenager; and there are only so many times a guy on his thirties can get it up in a day. Not that he lacks stamina or anything, but Frank is seriously the horniest motherfucker in the world when he’s bored; and without any kind of technology whatsoever to distract himself, he gets bored a lot. The day before, Gerard had to alternate blowjobs between the fucking, and it had worked just fine; except today he woke up with a sore ass and a sore dick and a sore jaw. That’s why, after their first fuck of the day, he suggested the walk so his body (or more specifically, his sore body parts) would have a couple of hours of rest before Frank jumped him again.

He never thought about the possibility to get lost; he had a map and he wasn’t even planning to go far. However, he didn’t think about the fact that neither of them could really read maps that well; or about the fact that they’d get so distracted with an epic discussion about Lady Gaga that they wouldn’t pay attention to the map for about an hour. So of course, by the time their discussion ended (with Frank on his knees and Gerard humming “Bad Romance” while he was getting blown), they had no idea where they were or where to go.

Frank’s freaking out; mumbling about giant spiders and death and promising to torture Gerard with needles if by some miracle they get out of the fucking forest alive. Gerard’s pretty freaked out himself; but mostly he feels guilty, so that’s helping him to keep it together. He studies the map for the millionth time, but it’s useless. They’re lost, and they’re going to die of starvation and thirst; that is, if some creature hiding on the forest doesn’t kill them first. If that were to happen, at least he hopes it’s a cool creature; like a werewolf, or maybe –-

“GERARD!”

“Huh?”

“Fucking space cadet, man.” Frank says, slapping the back of Gerard’s head. He’s grinning, though, which Gerard thinks is a good sign, because the last time Frank smiled was at least two hours ago. “I said, I think I see a cabin!”

“Oh my god, you’re hallucinating now! Do you have a fever?” Gerard touches Frank’s forehead with his palm; or well, he tries to, because Frank swats Gerard’s hand away before he has the chance to check if Frank’s running a fever. Which, seriously, what’s with all the fucking violence?

“I’m fine, you moron.” Frank grabs Gerard’s arm and turns him around, pointing a finger in the direction of more trees, and a little blur that looks a lot like --

“Fuck me sideways, that is a cabin!” Gerard squeals, but in a totally manly way. If Frank laughs at this, well, that’s because he’s happy, not because he’s mocking Gerard. Nope. Not at all.

Gerard flails and almost fells when Frank takes his hand and starts running, or more like flying towards the cabin; but like the athlete he is, Gerard gets his footing and follows Frank. And okay, maybe he’s like a fucking mile behind Frank because, seriously, he’s flying; but that’s only because Gerard’s cautious, not because he’s slow or feels like his lungs are about to explode. He was practically a jock back in high school, even if nobody agrees with him on this; it’s not his fault that croquet isn’t considered a ‘real’ sport.

Finally, after running for hours and hours (or okay, a few minutes, but who’s counting?), they come face to face with a small cabin that looks too well-maintained to be abandoned. There’s an old truck parked on the side of the cabin; which definitely confirms that somebody lives there.

They wait a couple of minutes to catch their breath, and then Frank walks to the door. He’s about to knock, when Gerard suddenly says, “Wait!”

Frank turns around, an annoyed expression on his face. “What now?”

“It’s just…” Gerard says, “what if whoever lives here is like, a serial killer or something?”

Frank sighs. “C’mon, man. Don’t go all paranoid on me here, we need fucking help if we want to go back to our cabin.”

“I know, but think about it. There’s a reason why this person lives in the middle of the fucking forest. I mean, obviously they must be a hermit, or even worse, hiding from the law after having comitted a heinous crime.”

“Well I don’t know about you, but I prefer to die on the hands of an ax murderer than eaten by a fucking giant spider. So you can go back to the woods if you want, but I’m fucking asking for help.”

Frank looks at Gerard expectantly; and Gerard kisses him with all the passion he can muster, and says, a little out of breath, “Okay.”

“Not that I’m complaining or anything, but what was that for?” Frank asks, a little out of breath himself.

Gerard shrugs. “Well, we may die after you knock on that door, so I wanted to kiss you for the last time. Oh, and also, I love you. I want you to remember that, too.”

Frank laughs, and kisses Gerard. “I love you, too, you fucking dork.”

Frank takes a deep breath, and knocks three times, as loudly as he can manage. Gerard is biting his non-existent nails, feeling more nervous than he’d ever felt; even more than that time when he decided to agree to ‘take this outside’ with the huge fucking biker that was giving shit to Mikey. Both times are alike, because death felt (and feels) imminent; but this time is much worse, because not only he’ll die, but Frank will, too. Gerard only hopes that he’ll die first, because he can’t think of anything worse than to watch the man he loves being decapitated or chopped to pieces by an ax murderer.

Nobody answers, so Frank knocks again. “I hear noises,” he tells Gerard, so this time he combines his knocks with a yell of, “Hello, anybody home?”

Gerard steps in front of Frank; because if he wants to die first, he needs to be the first person the ax murderer sees. He hears more noises, and then footsteps approaching; so he closes his eyes and braces himself for the first blow of the ax.

“Who’s there?” Says a voice, and when Gerard opens his eyes, he sees a blond man, a little bit taller than himself, but not by much. He has short hair, a moustache, and a beard. He has blue eyes, freckles on his nose, and he’s wearing a blue and red flannel shirt, regular blue jeans, and black slippers.

“Um, excuse us,” Gerard hears Frank say; apparently at some point he stepped forward so now he’s standing by Gerard’s side. “We’re staying at the cabins near here, but we got lost, so we were wondering if you could help us.”

The ax murderer rolls his eyes and sighs the sigh of the long-suffering. Gerard notes that he doesn’t have an ax on his hand, but that’s not reassuring at all, because he probably likes to kill intruders in the privacy of his own cabin.

“Come in.” The ax murderer turns around, and leaves the door open so Frank and Gerard can follow him inside. Gerard is about to tell Frank that they should try to find the way back by themselves; but by the time he reacts, Frank’s already inside the cabin, so Gerard has no choice but to follow him. He doesn’t close the door, though; he wants to be able to run out of there without having to stop to open the fucking door. Knowing his luck, it would probably get stuck, and the ax murderer would kill him from behind.

“Close the door, please.” Fuck. They’re going to die. There’s no doubt in Gerard’s mind. He only hopes that it’d be a quick death. Hopefully this guy isn’t into torture. He did say ‘please’, after all, so maybe he’s a nice murderer. Gerard does as he’s told, and joins Frank and the ax murderer, who are sitting on the cozy living room; Frank on the flower-patterned couch, and the murderer on a plain green chair. Gerard seats beside Frank, and thinks about holding his hand, but decides against it. Maybe the guy’s a homophobe, and Gerard knows that hate crimes are usually more violent than the non-hate ones. He’s not risking that, not even for the comfort of holding Frank’s hand.

“So, how long have you guys been lost?” The ax murderer asks. He really sounds like a nice person, but Gerard’s not fooled. He won’t let his guard down just because the guy is making small talk.

“I don’t know, man. Maybe three or four hours?” Frank says, looking completely relaxed. Gerard really doesn’t understand how people say that he’s the gullible one. They’d obviously change their mind if they knew that Frank’s the one who’s buying this guy’s nice act.

“You must be hungry, then. Or thirsty. Tired is a given, of course.” The ax murderer stands up and walks to the kitchen.

Gerard takes this opportunity to try to talk some sense into his boyfriend. “Frank,” he whispers, “I think we should go. I don’t really trust this guy.”

“Shhh, relax Gee. He seems nice.” Frank says, stroking Gerard’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “We’ll be fine, I promise.”

“WATER OR BEER?” The ‘nice’ ax murderer yells from the kitchen.

“WATER, PLEASE.” Frank yells back.

Gerard whispers, “Frank, Frank I don’t think we should drink or eat anything he gives us. He may be trying to drug us so we’re defenseless when he kills us.”

Frank laughs, and Gerard is about to slap him, when the ax murderer returns to the living room. He’s holding a plate with three sandwiches in one hand, and two bottles of water and a bottle of beer in the other. He puts down the plate in the coffee table, and gives Frank both bottles of water. Frank says, “Thanks, man,” and passes Gerard his water.

“Um, I ran out of jelly, so these are just peanut butter. Hope you don’t mind,” says the ax murderer, taking a sandwich from the plate.

“Not at all, dude. Seriously, thanks, we’re fucking starving.” Franks takes the plate and offers it to Gerard, who reluctantly takes a sandwich. Frank does the same, immediately starting to devour it, as it to prove his previous starvation claim.

“I’m Bob, by the way. Bob Bryar.” The ax murderer Bob leaves his beer on the coffee table; wipes his hand in the leg of his jeans, and holds it out to Frank.

Frank reaches forward and shakes Bob’s hand. “Frank Iero. The mute here is my boyfriend, Gerard Way.”

Gerard hears the word ‘boyfriend’ and starts to choke on his sandwich. He feels Frank’s hand slapping his back; and when he sees Bob walking towards him, he tries to scream, which makes him choke even worse. He’s about to pass out, from panic and lack of air, because Bob grabs his arm and pulls him up until Gerard is standing. Bob settles Gerard in front of him, and wraps his arms around Gerard’s torso; and God, this is it, Bob’s going to kill him. He’s going to drag Gerard to wherever his ax is so he can chop him to pieces for being not only an intruder, but a queer intruder. At least his wish of dying first is coming true.

Gerard feels Bob’s fists pressing his stomach with a lot of force; over and over again, until Gerard feels his throat opening up, and sees a piece of sandwich land into the coffee table, which means that—Oh. Heimlich maneuver.

Gerard coughs a couple of times, getting used to breath again. Frank starts to rub Gerard’s back, and asks, “Gee, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Gerard turns to look at Bob, who’s standing beside him with a concerned look on his face. “Um, thanks, man.”

“No problem,” says Bob, patting Gerard’s shoulder.

Bob returns to his chair, and Frank takes Gerard hand and leads him to the couch. “So, Bob, what are you doing here in the middle of the woods? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.” Frank asks, before continuing to eat his sandwich.

“I’m a lumberjack.” Bob says. “I’ve been living here my whole life. Actually, I was born here, in the cabin. My dad was also --“

“Wait.” Gerard interrupts. “So that means you have an ax?” He fucking knew it. Bob only saved him to have the pleasure to kill Gerard himself.

“Gerard!” Frank hisses, almost crushing Gerard’s hand with his own.

Bob looks at Gerard as if he was growing a second head or something. “Um, yes?” What he obviously means is ‘um yes, and that’s what I’m killing you with, you fags’. They’re so fucking fucked. At least Gerard got to kiss Frank and told him that he loved him.

“Excuse my boyfriend, Bob,” Frank says, apologetically, “the lack of oxygen clearly affected his brain.”

“Whatever,” mumbled Gerard, massaging his almost-crushed hand.

Bob is silent for a few seconds; he squints as he apparently tries to decipher something. “What’s going on here? What do you guys really want?” He sits straight, squaring his shoulders. He looks so fucking intimidating Gerard is this close to pissing his fucking pants.

Apparently Frank thinks the same, because he fucking gulps, and then holds his hands up in a ‘whoa, relax’ gesture. “Okay, to be completely fucking honest here? We were a little bit afraid before.”

Bob relaxes his shoulders a tiny bit, cocks an eyebrow and asks, “Afraid?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, you live in the middle of the fucking woods, and we were tired and paranoid, so we thought that maybe you’d be… um, like… I don’t know, like--”

“An ax murderer,” blurts Gerard.

There’s a couple of seconds of frightening silence, and then Bob cracks the fuck up. He laughs, and wheezes, and keeps fucking laughing; until tears are rolling down his face. He’s holding his stomach with one hand, and wiping the tears with the other. Frank is starting to giggle; Gerard doesn’t know if it’s a nervous laughter or a real one.

After the laughing episode ends, Bob takes a deep breath and wipes the last of his tears. “Sorry. It’s just that nobody has ever thought that I’m an ax murderer before.”

“Really?” Gerard asks, genuinely curious. “I mean, you live alone, in the middle of the forest, and you have a fucking ax. How can people not think you’re an ax murderer?”

“I think you guys watch too many horror movies.” Bob says; completely relaxed now, and apparently still way too amused by Frank and Gerard’s assumption. Which is a perfectly valid and logical assumption, thank you very much.

“So, you’re not a murderer?” Frank asks, but Gerard can tell that Frank only asked for Gerard’s benefit, because he looks equally amused by the situation.

“Definitely not a murderer,” Bob confirms. “Gerard, seriously, you can relax now. Not only I won’t kill you; but I’ll take you back to your cabin so you can resume your romantic weekend. On one condition, though.”

Both Frank and Gerard square his shoulders at this; but is Frank who asks, “What condition?”

“That you hang out with me for a while,” Bob answers, smiling at them with a hopeful expression on his face. Gerard feels a little guilty to admit to himself that Bob looks adorable like that. Bob continues, “I know it sounds pathetic; but as you can imagine, I don’t get a lot of visitors here. Don’t get me wrong, I’m used to it and I love the peace and quiet of this place; but sometimes it’s nice to have a little human interaction.”

Frank leans on the back of the couch; he crosses one leg, making himself comfortable. “Sure, man, no problem.”

Bob looks at Gerard expectantly; and Gerard feels guilty for suspecting Bob was an ax murderer. He’s clearly the most adorable lumberjack in the forest. “Of course. After all, you saved my life and my dignity, so I’m forever in your debt.”

“Your dignity?” Bob asks.

“Dude, I’m from fucking Jersey. Can you imagine how fucking humiliating would’ve been if a fucking peanut butter sandwich would’ve killed me? Seriously Bob, I’m sure that some people would’ve killed themselves just to be able to bully me in hell for all eternity.”

Bob laughs, and says, “Yeah, you’re probably right. I mean, I can’t think of a lamer way to go than that.”

“Don’t worry, Gee,” says Frank, taking Gerard’s hand. “I would’ve told them you died from erotic asphyxiation.”

Gerard leans forward to kiss Frank chastely on the lips. “Thank you baby, that’s why I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” says Frank, kissing Gerard’s cheek.

Bob clears his throat. “So, I’m gonna go get a beer. You lovebirds want one?”

Frank giggles, and Gerard has the decency to look apologetic before answering, “Sure, thanks.”

“Frank?”

“Yes, please.”

Bob starts to walk toward the kitchen, but stops when Gerard says, “Bob, wait.” He looks at Gerard, so Gerard continues, “Does it make you uncomfortable? That we’re gay?”

Bob laughs. “Fuck no. I just don’t like to be reminded that I haven’t gotten laid in months.”

“Really?” Frank asks, looking up and down at Bob. Gerard would be jealous if he hadn’t done the same the moment Bob stood up from his chair.

“Dude, I live in the middle of the fucking woods. The closest town’s population is like, I don’t know, fucking ten or something, so it’s not like I have a lot of opportunities.” Bob laughs; shaking his head as he walks to the kitchen to get the beers.

Frank sighs. Gerard knows that fucking sigh; so he’s a little hesitant before he asks, “What’s wrong, Frankie?”

“Nothing… it’s just… poor guy, you know? I mean, he’s one of the nicest guys I’ve met and he’s here all alone, and just, I don’t know, I feel sorry for him.” Frank’s ‘innocent’ face is lost on Gerard. He knows Frank too well to be fooled by it. Also, Gerard thinks that Frank really, really needs to practice his subtlety.

Now it’s Gerard’s turn to sigh. Except his sigh is real, as opposed to Frank’s, which was a lame bait so Gerard would ask him what was wrong. “Frank, seriously, no.”

“But why not?” Frank whines. “It’s not like we haven’t done it before. And Bob saved your life, Gerard. Like, you’d be dead right now if it wasn’t for him. It’s the least we can do.”

“Frank, we don’t even know if he’s into dick, for fuck’s sake. Besides, remember what happened with Bert, you were so fucking jealous afterwards and I had--” Gerard stops talking when he sees Bob return from the kitchen with three bottles of beer.

Bob hands them their beers, and sprawls on the chair, taking a huge sip of his beer.

“So, Bob, are you into guys or into girls?” Frank says casually. As soon as they’re back to Jersey, Gerard will spend at least two hours a day teaching Frank the art of being subtle.

“Huh?” Bob says, a little bit confused.

“Are you into guys or into girls?” Frank repeats, as if Bob’s confusion was because he didn’t listen the first time Frank asked, and not because it was a totally random and out-of-the-blue fucking question.

“Girls. Why?”

Gerard can totally see the disappointment in Frank’s face. “No reason.”

Bob laughs and shakes his head. “You guys are fucking weird. But the good kind of weird, don’t get me wrong.”

“Yeah, we kind of get that reaction a lot.” Gerard says, nodding proudly. He used to hate being weird, because that meant being an outcast, and being bullied almost every day. But now he embraces it, because he’s living his life the way he likes, and he’s happy. Plus he found Frank, who’s as weird as Gerard, if in a different way. So yeah, they’re weird, but like Bob said, the good kind.

“So, Bob, you were telling us something about your father before, right?” Frank says, apparently resigned to just hang out with Bob instead of having the hot, wild, threesome that he obviously hoped they were going to have.

“Oh, yes.” Bob’s face lights up immediately; like he’s really excited to tell his life story to them. Seriously, he’s the most adorable lumberjack ever. Gerard wonders briefly if his girly looks would be enough for Bob to get him to agree to the threesome; after all, a mouth is a mouth when you’re lonely and horny. Then he feels bad, because Bob is saying something about his father, and about how his mom died when he was little and Gerard is fucking fantasizing about him while he says it. So he makes an effort and focuses on the conversation; but not before making a mental note to buy Frank a flannel shirt as soon as they get back to Jersey. He may even be able to convince Frank to let Gerard call him ‘Bob’.



Comments

[villiagegreen.livejournal.com]

I really couldn't, he's too close a friend, that would be kinda weird.

but really, i would read one, i would show him it, we would all have a laugh, i just couldn't write it.

paul = SUPER EGO + HUMOR + DEEP DOWN NICE GUY + A LITTLE DUMB

[rockeandroll.livejournal.com]

Who is this Paul and how do you know him?

[villiagegreen.livejournal.com]

paul is a art model i hire once in a bit for drawing/painting/photos, i posted a paul spam because he's cute and doesn't really care... plus i own the pictures.


my paul posts

http://villiagegreen.livejournal.com/15130.html

http://villiagegreen.livejournal.com/15534.html#cutid1