Gifts with My Chemical Romance.

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Note: Apologies for the late update. I have a cold and I went out and got sunstroke yesterday so, yay me. Anyways, enjoy. x

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Gerard:

You've always loved wrapping Christmas presents. Just the thought of buying someone a gift and wrapping it up, making it look all pretty and festive... it was your absolute favourite. When you were old enough to be let in on the whole Santa secret, your mom would let you help her wrap the gifts, and you immediately took a liking to it – a liking that would carry over into your adult years. By the age of thirteen, you were somewhat of a master gift wrapper, and every year since then, come Christmas time, you would go out and find the best wrapping paper, the best bows and strings, and the best name tags to place on the gifts. It wasn't an obsession, per se, it was more of a talent, and you enjoyed doing it tremendously. Needless to say, gift-wrapping was your specialty. Gerard, on the other hand, was terrible at it.

"You're making a mess."

"Shut up and pass me the tape."

"There's more tape on that present than wrapping paper," you sassed, looking at the hideously wrapped present in disgust as you half-heartedly handed over the tape.

"I think it looks beautiful," Gerard retorted, pulling up his nose at you as he grabbed the tape from your hand.

Making your eyes wide and then rolling them to the side, you decided to try and ignore your boyfriend and his pitiful attempts at gift-wrapping and focus on your pile instead.

"Almost done," Gerard announced, squinting and poking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth the way he always did while concentrating as he pressed the last piece of tape on the paper, "There! Ta-da!" he held the present up in the air.

"Wow," you whispered.

"I know, right?" Gerard marvelled, "Isn't it beautiful?"

"I meant 'wow' as in 'wow, I never knew someone could be that bad at gift-wrapping," you explained, shaking your head and moving next to him, using your shoulder to shove him away, "Move. Let me do this."

"Nah uh," he countered, shoving back, "This is my pile. Go back to your own."

"You're kidding, right? We can't give these to people!" you gestured to the atrociously wrapped presents, "No one will want to open a present wrapped this badly."

"Well, excuuuuse me," he scoffed, "I'm sorry we can't all be perfect gift-wrappers like you!"

"You don't need to be perfect – just okay, at least. But you," you waved a stray piece of paper in his face, "are awful. Let me help you."

"No, I wanna do these on my own."

You took a deep breath. "Gerard, I love you with all my mind, body, and soul..."

"I love you too."

"But if you don't move your ass in the next three seconds, so help me God, I will stab you with these scissors."

"You wouldn't," he scoffed, moving to continue his work.

You grabbed his hand to stop him. "One..."

"(Y/N), I know you're not serious."

"Two," you increased the volume of your voice slightly, and raised the scissor you had in your hand.

"Alright, alright," he recoiled, holding up his hands in surrender as he scampered back, "Jeez, and they thought my sweater obsession was bad."

Mikey:

Sluggishly and cautiously, so as not to rouse you from your sleep, Mikey lifted the covers off of his body, and stealthily slipped out of bed.

Tiptoeing out of your shared bedroom and down the stairs, he tried his hardest not to make a sound, and grimaced when the wooden steps creaked under his weight.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he let out a breath he hadn't even realised he was holding, and fuelled by a bout of triumph over not waking you, he strutted over to the illuminated Christmas tree.

He spotted all of the different colourfully-wrapped presents, and grinned like a Cheshire cat. Excitedly, he sat down next to the tree with his legs crossed and began carefully sorting through the variety of gifts, looking for the one (or ones) with his name on them.

It was still a good couple of days before Christmas, but you had hinted at getting him a great present, and he couldn't handle the suspense of not knowing what it was. Sure, you would be mad at him when you wake up in the morning and see what he had done, but it was worth it, and he would deal with that problem tomorrow. Right now, it was all about the box he currently had in his hands. The one with glossy black wrapping and labelled 'MIKEY' on top in silver marker.

The gift looked good even on the outside and for a moment, he felt bad for what he was about to do. But that guilt didn't last long and soon, he was ripping the paper from the box.

Once all the wrapping had been cleared, he took a deep breath and smiled widely as he lifted the lid of the box. He was immediately met with a projection of green slime.

"HA!" you yelled, flipping the light switch and flooding the room with a bright, white light as you stomped over to Mikey. "Gotcha!"

"(Y/N)," Mikey spluttered, groaning as he tried to remove the goo from his mouth and the rest of his face, "You booby trapped the presents?"

"Yes, I booby-trapped the presents because YOU DO THIS EVERY YEAR."

"I can't help it, alright?" he defended, still sitting on the floor, covered in slime. "I just have this urge... I need to know."

"I was gonna let you open your presents on Christmas Eve, but because of your urge to 'need to know', you're gonna have to wait until Christmas day."

"NNNNNNNOOOOOOOO!"

"You did this to yourself," you sighed, turning around to make your way back to bed, "Oh, and you're not sleeping with me tonight. I don't want slime in my bed."

Ray:

"Just do it, dude," Frank encouraged, shrugging as he sipped his beer, "What's the worst that could happen?"

"'What's the worst that could happen?'" Ray scoffed, "The worst that could happen is that she throws a brick at my face. Or runs me over. Or refuses to let me in so that I can just suffer out in the cold. Do you not remember how bad our breakup was?"

Frank pursed his lips, thinking for a moment. "Where would she get a brick? What kind of person just has bricks lying around?"

"Bro, not the problem here," Ray shook his head, waving his arms once in front of his friend's face to try and get him to concentrate, "There's no scenario where this works out well."

Frank heaved a long and heavy sigh before setting his beer bottle down and leaning in to his friend. "Ray, listen to me. Is this plan risky? Yes. Is it stupid? Fuck yeah," Ray wheezed, "But if it works out, will the reward be worth it? Absolutely, without a fucking doubt, yes. Look," Frank held out his hands, "Yeah, your breakup was pretty rough, but you both still love each other. And if you ask me, if you're looking for a push to do this, that fact alone should be enough to go on."

"When the fuck did you get so wise? That's my job."

Frank let out a chuckle as he shrugged. "So, are you gonna do it?"

Ray chewed on the inside of his cheek and stayed silent for a bit. After a minute of deliberating, he reached a decision. "Yeah. Yeah, I have to. But... just make sure there's an ambulance on stand-by. In case there's some flying bricks or whatever."

~

The ringing of your doorbell yanked you away from the comfort of the mountain of blankets you were snuggled under, and you cursed as you fought your way out and to the front door.

"This better be good," you mumbled.

You were not prepared for who was on the other side, and when you opened the door, the sight of him froze you in your place.

"Hey, (Y/N)," Ray said shyly, smiling softly at you, "I just wanted to come by and, well, wish you a merry Christmas, for one," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, "But, uh, I also wanted to give you something. I bought it a long time ago – when we were still together – and it was supposed to be your Christmas gift for this year but... yeah," he slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black velvet box. You felt your chest tighten. "I know that things didn't end well between us, but I still want to give this to you. I'm not trying to guilt-trip you or anything, but I bought it for you, and I want you to have it. Keep it, sell it, throw it away... whatever. It's yours," he said, holding out the box to you.

Swallowing – even though there was a lack of saliva in your mouth – you took the box from him, and gently opened it. The sight took your breath away, and you could feel the tears pricking at your eyes.

"Ask me," you whispered, still looking at the ring.

"What?" he asked, not sure if he'd heard you correctly.

"Ask me," you repeated breathily, handing the ring back to him.

Still a bit uncertain, Ray sunk down onto one knee and after clearing his throat, he smiled at you. "Will you marry me?"

Frank:

"Stay, you piece of shit!" Frank growled angrily, as the tiny box he placed on one of the Christmas tree branches started to fall.

With a disgruntled sigh, he watched the box fall to the ground for the fifth time in ten minutes, and he angrily bent down to pick it up.

"You're a fucking failure, you know that?" he whispered to the box as he picked it up. "She better say yes after all this trouble you're giving me."

After another ten minutes of cursing and struggling to get the box to stay put, Frank finally managed to secure it enough so that it didn't fall.

"Okay," he said softly, slowing taking steps backwards, "Alright," he turned off the living room light, "Be a good sport and stay put for me, will ya?" he called out before scoffing, "I'm talking to a fucking box."

~

The next morning (Christmas morning) you were awoken by the sound of Frank yelling your name.

"(Y/N), princess, wake up! It's time to open gifts!"

"Coming!" you called back, voice a bit hoarse from sleep.

Grinning from ear to ear, you hopped out of bed and practically leaped down the stairs, not even bothering to put on a gown or slippers.

~

While waiting for you to come down, Frank turned to inspect the tree, looking for the black box. When it wasn't where he left it last night, and he couldn't find it anywhere else on the tree, on the ground, or anywhere in the surrounding area, he squeaked in panic. He had called you down to open gifts and other than some chocolate, the engagement ring was the only thing he had gotten you, and now he couldn't find it.

Running his hands through his hair once he heard you making your way down, he grabbed a bow from the nearest gift and sat crossed-legged on the floor.

~

When you made your way to the living room, you let out a short giggle once you spotted your boyfriend. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a huge smile on his face and a red bow on his head.

"Surprise!" he exclaimed, throwing up his hands, "Your gift is me!"

"I hope you kept the receipt," you mused, taking a seat across from him.

"So mean," he pouted, and you sniggered, "Are you not even gonna unwrap me?" he smirked suggestively.

Reaching forward, you pulled the bow from his head. "There. Can we get to the real gifts now?"

"I am a gift in your life," he remarked, reaching out to grab some presents from under the tree.

"Sure, baby," you cooed, pecking his lips quickly.

You opened your present from Frank first. It was a whole variety of your favourite chocolates, and you dug in immediately.

Frank's turn was next, and he opened the gift bag from his mom. When he reached in, the first thing he pulled out was a tiny black box, earning confused glances from the both of you before the realisation hit Frank.

"Ooooh," he murmured, "so that's where it went."

"Is that an engagement ring?" you asked, and he nodded. "Why would your mom-OH," you stopped speaking when Frank pushed the gifts out of the way and repositioned himself on one knee in front of you. "Oh my gosh," you gushed, raising a hand to your mouth as you could feel the moisture build up behind your eyes.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)," he started, the biggest smile on his face, "I am in love with you. There's no doubt in my mind that you're the one for me. From the very first moment I saw you, I knew. I turned to Mikey and I said, "See that girl? I'm gonna marry her", and you know what he said?" You shook your head. "The fucker laughed at me. Needless to say, he's not gonna be a groomsman," he chuckled but then caught himself and his face turned serious, "That's assuming you agree to marry me. Shit, I haven't even asked you yet. Wow, I'm fucking terrible at this," he scoffed nervously, but you reached for his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, and he regained his confidence, "Will you marry me?"

"Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!" you beamed, practically jumping into his arms. "I love you so much!"

"I love you more," he smiled, holding you tighter, "Merry Christmas, princess."

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Thank you for reading x

PS. I'm sure it's pretty obvious, but I'm a sucker for Christmas marriage proposals.