#frerardbabysitter

Summary: Frank swallowed and pulled Annika to his chest but didn’t move. Gerard was still kind of crowding Frank at the sink while he searched on his phone, and was close enough that Frank could have touched those eyelashes if he’d wanted to. Gerard was Eyelashes, and he was right here in Lindsey’s kitchen, looking lickable, and so focused on his search—his focus reminded Frank of the way Gerard had sucked his dick, and his body gave an involuntary shudder.

Summary: The thing is, Frank doesn’t actually mean to become a babysitter. At first, he regards it as a kind of horrific accident that’s somehow befallen him through no fault of his own. When his mom first mentions it, he’s sprawled on the couch doing his best impression of an extremely sober person who was absolutely not about to jack off before passing out for the night. “The Ashers need a sitter for Friday night,” she says. “I told them you were free.” Frank lets that sentence slop around his brain until he’s sure it doesn’t contain the words “drinking” or “pot” in conjunction with “have you” and “been”, then he makes a vague noise of acquiescence and promptly forgets all about the whole thing. Alternatively, the one where there is absolutely no shame in asking an eight-year-old girl for relationship advice.

Summary:  "We all have to take jobs we don't like sometimes, you know?"