I'm researching photography in art rn, and I'm like, why the fuck can this camera made in 1883 take better pictures than my computer can??? Explain?????

Also, I just discovered how adding vids/songs in the top bit works, bc before I tried it on the Cancer Imagine thingy I put up, I thought you had to download the song like you do with the pictures, but idk how to do that.

So, yay.

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Frank watched Gerard's sleeping face, feeling oddly protective over him. It was probably because of that guy. He was obviously up to something; Frank had a hard time convincing himself that he just so happened to be staying in the same hotel, eating breakfast at the same time.

Unfortunately, he didn't know whether the man was after him or the assassin, and he wasn't sure which would turn out better.

Of course, if he was there to help Gerard escape him, he doubted Gerard would be so openly staring at him. In fact, it was only his staring that lead Frank to notice him, which was slightly embarrassing, considering he was known for his observational skills. 

But he had been observing, it just wasn't the room around him. He was studying Gerard - not admiring him or anything, just studying to get to know him better - and he wasn't prepared to admit just how interesting the redhead was.

He didn't like to show it, but Frank could tell he was losing a bit of that confidence the agent had noticed so much back at the gala. Frank wasn't sure if it was faked there or not, but it wasn't apparent now, real or otherwise.

He found himself studying Gerard yet again, and watched as he scrunched his face into a displeasured expression. Frank wondered if he was waking, but he didn't move around at all, sticking into his side as he had been doing for the last five miles. In fact, he pulled himself tighter into Frank, his head falling from the junction of his shoulder and torso to the side of his rib cage, pushing the top of his hair under Frank's arm.

His arms reached up and gripped Frank's waist, and Frank had to bite back a gasp as his cold hands slipped under the fabric of his shirt.

Because his hands were cold, and Frank's side was warm, obviously.

He stayed in that position for another few minutes, before shuddering and letting out a soft whine.

For a second, Frank was scared he was having a fucking wet dream or something, and this was about to get very interesting, but Gerard just kept shaking in his sleep.

Without a second thought, Frank reached up his unoccupied hand and threaded it gently through Gerard's red hair, feeling the soft strands slip between his fingers.

Gerard let out a soft little sigh, and settled back into Frank contentedly.

At this point Frank realized what he was doing, but if it helped Gerard, he wouldn't stop. He was supposed to return him unharmed, after all.

He frowned slightly at that thought, for some reason not liking the idea of this mission being over. Honestly, looking at Gerard snuggled into his side and breathing softly, he couldn't picture him doing anything even remotely mean, much less killing people.

But he did, he had to remind himself. He was an assassin, and Frank was going to bring him in, and that would be the end of it. Nothing about his soft puffs of breath would change that fact, and Frank should really stop thinking about it.

-

By the time the cabby pulled up at their destination, Frank found himself drifting off as well, his forehead resting against the cool glass of the window pane.

He focused his eyes, looking around for a moment before resting his gaze on Gerard's head, which had made it all the way to Frank's lap, and Frank's tattooed hand that was currently tangled in his bright hair.

He quickly removed his hand, focusing on his bag in the seat beside him. He reached over and pulled it closer, wrapping the straps around his hand. He looked down at the napping assassin, watching as a brief flicker of emotion flashed across his face, then disappeared.

"This your stop, sir?" the driver asked, and Frank looked up from Gerard's face, realizing he had been staring for a good minute, instead of getting out.

"Uh, yeah," Frank said, nodding and shaking Gerard's shoulder. Gerard made a mumbling sound, but otherwise didn't move from his position. "Gerard," Frank hissed at him. "Wake, up, it's time to go."

"Mm mm," Gerard protested, shaking his head slightly and burying his face in Frank's thigh.

"Geraaard," Frank groaned, holding out the 'a' sound.

"Frankieeeeee," Gerard whined.

"C'mon," Frank said, lightly hitting his shoulder.

Gerard hit right back, only much harder.

"We need to go," Frank argued, somehow still surprised at how difficult he was being.

"Noooo."

"Now."

Gerard turned and cracked a sleep-filled eye open, staring up at Frank, the rest of his face scrunched  up in an adorable way.

"If I get up, will you buy me a comic?"

Frank resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Honestly, he's being held against his will and he wants a freaking comic book?

"Fine," he relented. "C'mon."

"Yay," Gerard celebrated quietly, and followed Frank out onto the street.

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There's some filler.

Fun fact, I actually can't type. I'm a fanfiction writer, and I can't fucking type. *sigh* This is when I question my life choices.

Anyway, this was shorter than usual, bc I really just wanted to write something. Please point out any mistakes.

I've decided to do the one shot thing. Idk when it will be up, but I need some requests.

Hope you're having a good day, if not, feel free to rant.

Love you!

-Brightside ⨳