Pairing: Gerard/Frank, probably more
Rating: NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: Don’t own, never happened.
POV: This chapter, Gerard’s.
Summary: Gerard works in a restaurant and has a thing for turning straight guys gay. So far he hasn’t had any luck, will the new waiter Frank be any different?
Warnings: Sexual situations, language, a fair bit of sexual harassment, non-con maybe?
Authors note: Meh, I don't really like this...but I’m pretty bad at judging my own writing anyway, so let me know what you think? Oh and sorry it took so long...I had to re-write it! D:
I walked around the restaurant for what must have been the hundredth time, still finding no plates available for me to take. I tried not to scrunch up my nose in disgust at the hoards of ravenous people shovelling ridiculous amounts of food onto their plates and into their mouths.
Seriously, how did people eat that much?
Suddenly I heard a faint call of my name and spun around, looking for the source of the noise. Finding nothing and deciding I had actually finally lost my mind, I continued my way around the restaurant.
Just as I spotted an empty plate and made a move to dive for it a very unamused restaurant manager named Amanda stepped in front of me, blocking my way completely.
Managing an all you can eat buffet obviously had its disadvantages.
I peered at the plate longingly over her shoulder. Someone else was going to take it! I had worn my legs down to stubs trying to find that stupid plate! I whimpered and tried to get past her but she was having none of it.
“Gerard, calm down, please.” I let out a cry of outrage as Ryan, a co-worker of mine, swooped down and grasped the plate that was a mere arms reach away, smiling sweetly at the little girl he took it from.
I growled a little before hesitantly turning my attention back to Amanda, who was now rambling away, probably about my disappointing performance over the last few months or something along those lines.
“…new kid, Frank, so please make him feel welcome…” Blah, blah, blah.
Ohh wait. New kid? Frank? He sounds sexy, I hope he lives up to his name.
She must have seen the predatory look in my eyes as she rolled her own, sighing tiredly. “And please Gerard. Try not to hit on this one and scare him off.”
I gasped exaggeratedly, clasping a hand over my heart and pretending to be offended. “I would never think of violating the terms and conditions of working here by becoming involved with a fellow colleague!”
“Oh I’m not worried about that,” she waved a hand in dismissal. “Just don’t scare this one off, kay?”
Okay I did take offence to that. I could so have a relationship with someone here, I just…preferred to eye them from a distance, where they couldn’t laugh at me or beat me to a bloodied pulp.
Unfortunately, I had a thing for straight guys. I know, not usually a good thing for a gay guy but come on, straight guys are cute. And the prospect of turning them just really…turns me on.
But, alas, doing so usually gets me put in a hospital or finding myself surrounded by people that loathed me. And that brings me to this place. Which to put it lightly is a living hell.
The pay is good, though, and I’m related to the owner so it’s pretty much impossible for me to get fired. So, I stay.
Oh and not to mention everyone that works here just happens to be male and sexy as fuck.
Amanda walked off huffing about ‘useless teenagers’ or something of the sort. Which was ironic, really, considering we held the livelihood of her precious restaurant in our hands.
Still irritated by losing my previous plate to Ryan, I angrily ripped a plate out from underneath the nearest person (hey, it was almost finished) and stormed off to the kitchen, scowling in irritation and trying to ignore the annoyed banter erupting from the table behind me.
I quickly scraped the half-eaten food off the plate, screwing my nose up in disgust at the piles of prawn heads and legs tumbling into the long trough which acted as a bin.
Oh, the joys of working at an all you can eat buffet on seafood night.
I washed my hands and dried them hastily, before leaning against a wall and deciding to take my time having a drink. Having forgotten my water bottle, again, I was forced to drink the free soda the restaurant offered employees.
It didn’t really quench my thirst, but it did give me something to do other than plaster a big fake smile across my face while customers with bad breath screamed in my face, and scrape random parts of foul-smelling creatures off the few plates I managed to collect.
I can’t for the life of me fathom how people can stand to eat seafood, I really can’t. I mean how can you eat something that looks at you. A shudder goes through me as I glance at the many prawns discarded into the trough, beady black eyes protruding from their mangled heads.
Ryan suddenly bursted through the side door, grinning arrogantly with a whole pile of plates stacked up his arm.
I scowled at him as he scraped them off smugly, before beginning to wash his hands.
The scowl soon melted off my face as I caught sight of another person walking through the doors, albeit more hesitantly, a plate grasped in each trembling hand.
I let my eyes fall over him appraisingly, and, yeah, this Frank guy definitely lived up to his name.
He eyed the plates before him distastefully, and cautiously began scraping them, careful not to let any of the contents come into contact with his hands.
I briefly wondered if he was gay as I continued to check him out, admittedly liking what I saw, a lot.
Suddenly he squealed at an impressively high pitch for a male, shaking his hand frantically and glancing around the kitchen with wide eyes.
I followed his gaze and found a few chefs who had stopped their work and were eyeing him warily, and a few others who were softly snickering to themselves.
Ryan let out a short, amused chuckle and Frank blushed. “It touched me, the prawn head touched me” he mumbled and Ryan laughed louder.
I couldn’t help laughing a little myself, if he was going to work here he had better get used to it. Peoples left overs got far worse than that.
Believe me; you don’t even want to know.
I continued to ponder whether he was gay. I mean, he looked gay. He acted gay. But…even if I did somehow manage to convince myself to talk to him (which, lets face it, isn’t going to happen any time soon), you couldn’t just ask someone what their orientation was.
Ryan, who was still washing his hands, suddenly turned to Frank. “So are you like gay or what?”
Okay, apparently you could.
Frank snorted nervously, “Uh, what? Ew. No. That’s disgusting. I’m Christian”
I breathed in sharply in shock, consequently inhaling the bubbly liquid and coughing and spluttering violently as it burned my lungs.
Well fuck me with a frying pan. He’s gay (and I know what he said, but come on he is so inwardly gay) and Christian.
Oh what I wouldn’t give to fuck the God right out of this boy.
Ryan’s eyes narrowed coldly. “You know, we don’t tolerate homophobia here.”
Frank at least had the decency to blush. “I’m sorry, I’m not homophobic, really. I was just a little offended you assumed I was…g-” He paused to gulp nervously. “That thing”
Ryan sent him a smile that was so forced it actually made me physically cringe, ignoring my (quite obvious, might I add) struggle in the background. “Okay, sorry.”
Oh come on I could be dying over here and they wouldn’t even notice. For all I know I am dying. I’m pretty sure my lungs are on the verge of spontaneously combusting at this point.
Eventually Frank turned to me, “Hey, are you okay?” But he looked more amused than concerned.
I scowled at him as best I could through my little coughing fit.
Of course I’m okay! Don’t worry you’re (very, very) pretty little head! I’m simply being burnt alive by murderous soda from the inside out.
I’m just dandy.
He shrugged and turned back to his plates, as Ryan finished up drying his hands and walked over to me.
Well at least someone cared about my life, even if it wasn’t the person I wanted to bend me over the kitchen bench and fuck me stupid.
But to my dismay he merely leant over to grab his bottle of water (yeah, some people are smart and avoid fiery drinks of death) before leaning on the wall beside me and nonchalantly taking a couple of sips.
“Hey, could you put this back for me?” he asked, wiping off his mouth and holding the bottle out to me expectantly.
No I fucking well can’t you motherfucking… “Sure” I managed to croak out.
He smiled sweetly and left through the side door back into the main part of the restaurant, leaving me still spluttering, half glaring at the back of his head, and half checking out his ass.
Hey, I’m a teenager. A horny teenager who doesn’t get any at that, who works in a restaurant full of hot guys…can you really blame me?
Suddenly remembering Frank’s little admission, I felt my heart pace quicken. Finally, a project actually worth taking on.
But how would I do it? I mean, aside from the whole ‘he thinks he’s straight and that gay people burn in the fiery depths of hell for all eternity’ thing, there’s the slight problem of me being nothing more than the gay loser who eye-fucked anyone with a penis.
Okay, so not anyone. But seriously, if you worked here, your eyes would bulge out of your head at the sight of these guys. Amanda seemed to have a thing for young, good-looking, and usually straight men.
With the exception of me, of course.
Okay, getting a little off topic. Where was I? Oh yes Frank. But, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him, right? No, it wouldn’t. The worst he could do was laugh at me, although he does kind of look like he could bash the shit out of me…how did he even get hired with all those tattoos?
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by something hitting me in the nose. I jumped a little in shock, going cross eyed before glancing at my attacker, who was a very embarrassed, blushing Frank.
“Uh…sorry. I totally didn’t mean to hit you. Just kind of…wave my hand to wake you up” He stuttered out, waving his hand around in my face once more to demonstrate his intentions.
I just stared at him blankly, what the hell was he talking about? Sure, I day-dreamed a lot. But pretty much every one left me to my ‘weird emo suicidal thoughts’.
Aka: fucking the hot guy who works at the bar in my head. I think his name’s Will or…Bill or something. Whatever, it’s not important.
His hipbones; however, are.
Needless to say, another certain someone is threatening to occupy my thoughts a little more explicitly than what is considered an appropriate manner for co-workers.
Speaking of that certain someone, he was presently watching me warily as if I might suddenly jump out and attack him with my…emo sword of doom or whatever it is that scares people about me.
But, what’s new.
“Uh, sure” I shot him a strange look, “Thanks?”
He giggled and I swear it was the most melodious sound to ever fall upon my ears (apart from my own voice, of course. Not to brag or anything. Okay I lied, it’s totally to brag). The laughter bubbled up inside him and escaped from his parted lips in full-throated peals.
And I soon found myself following a lovely train of thought regarding the many ways I could put those deliciously parted lips to use. Which I’m sure you can follow.
I realised I must have been looking at him as if he was a box of Norwegian box of chocolates and I was my own heartbroken mother, and snapped myself out of my daze.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, frowning indignantly.
He wiped the tears of laughter that had collected in the corner of his eyes. “You’re covered in soda, did you realise that?”
I looked down to see that, yes, I was in fact completely covered in soda. In a very, very unfortunate place, might I add. I cleared my throat a little. “I uh…see that, yes”
Great work, Gerard, really. Now he thinks you’re mentally retarded. Although the fact that you are speaking to yourself in third person kind of proves it.
Fucking hell please tell me I did not just say that out loud.
“Well I would, but you kind of just did”
Oh hello, ‘weird emo suicidal thoughts’ I am supposed to have. Nice to meet you, I’m Gerard Way, and currently wishing a gaping hole would suddenly appear in the ground and swallow me alive.
Apparently I at least had enough self control not to say that out loud, and couldn’t help sighing in relief a little.
“Here, you want help with that?”
I scrunched up my face in confusion. “Huh?”
He gestured towards my soaked pants, smiling awkwardly.
“Oh uh, okay” I stuttered. How was he going to help me with that? My question was answered as he grabbed a few paper towels from the pile.
Well I could have gotten them myself. Sure, he probably thinks I actually am mentally retarded, but I’m pretty sure even a mentally retarded person could handle that.
I reached out a hand to grasp them, but instead let my hand fall limp in shock as he actually started to pat the wad of paper at the area in question, successfully soaking up the liquid.
And yeah…I mentioned exactly where I spilled that soda , right?
“What are you doing?” I squeaked out, unintentionally jumping in surprise.
And god was it unintentional, because the hottest guy I had ever met was practically palming me through my pants, and I just jerked out of his reach.
Furious for both embarrassing myself beyond belief and putting a stop to the most action I had had in years, I grabbed the paper towels from his hands angrily and began continuing what he started myself.
“Calm down, I was just trying to help”
I glared at him, and he merely giggled, sticking out his hand.
I grasped his hand, shuddering a little as I felt a wave of tingles wash over my body. “G-Gerard”
He smirked amusedly. “Nice to meet you, G-Gerard”
But before I could reply he quickly turned and proceeded to re-enter the restaurant.
And I couldn’t help craning my neck until I was almost lying on the ground in a matrix-esque pose to check out his ass as the door continued to swing back and fourth, each time briefly revealing his form.
Eventually the door swung shut though, and (with some difficulty) I straightened up and found my previous place against the wall, staring into space and already forming a plan in my mind.
It needed perfecting, and the details were rough. But two things were certain.
Firstly, Frank was essentially a flaming homosexual and just needed a little push in the right direction to realise his burning desire to fuck me
And secondly, I was totally the perfect person to fill that position.
In more ways than one.