All The Way Down Is Never Enough - Bob/Frank - [1/1].
Title: All The Way Down Is Never Enough.
Prompt: 021. Winter
My Prompt Table.
Author: littleladypunk
Beta: alles_luege
Pairing: Bob/Frank
Words count: ~2,100
Rating: R-ish.
Summary: Frank wants to play in the snow, but there isn’t any. Bob, as awesome boyfriend as he is, comes to the rescue. And it has nothing to do with Frank whining and sighing half the day.
Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction. Never happened in real life. All men belong to themselves and their respective wives.
Warnings: Childish behavior, silliness, mention of sex.
It is like the fifteenth time Frank looks out the window today and it’s only shortly after midday. When he isn’t doing it, he’s far from being still. He paces back and forth around the room, sits down on the couch only to stand up a minute later, arranges things on the coffee table continually and sighs a lot. Bob tries to block out every sound he makes and to focus on playing his video game, but it’s hard when Frank crosses his line of view every now and then. Finally he can’t stand it anymore. He puts the game on hold and grabs his boyfriend by the arm when he passes by again. A firm jerk makes Frank sit down abruptly on the couch with a quiet flop.
“Would you please be still at least for ten goddamned minutes?” Bob didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but he is very annoyed at this point.
Frank is completely unfazed by the other man’s sudden outburst.
“But Booooob,” he whines. “I’m bored. I wanna snow.”
Bob sighs. Frank can be so immature sometimes. “Well, obviously there’s no snow anywhere, so deal with it and let others live.”
“But it’s almost the end of January and winter has been officially here for thirty-four days, and still; no snow!”
That earns him a confused look from Bob. “You count the days?”
“Of course I do, and--” The other man interrupts him, waving his hand dismissively.
“Never mind. Stop bothering me, I can’t make it snow. Do I look like a wizard?”
Frank eyes him, seeming to consider the point. “If you grew your beard and dyed it white, you’d looked like Dumbledore, you already have blue eyes.”
Bob looks at the ceiling, obviously praying for patience. “Frank.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Anyway, what do you need the snow for? It’s wet and cold.”
The look Bob receives tells him he is a moron. “For fun. What else? With snow you can make angels and snowmen, and sledge and--”
“Frank. How old are you? Ten?”
Frank grins at this. “Twenty-eight, but I’m young at heart. And you, Bob Bryar, secretly love this side of me.”
To be honest, Bob loves all sides of Frank. Even the I-am-a-little-persistent-annoying-shit side, but he’d never admit it to anyone, even under the threat of death. He casts a longing look in the direction of his game
“If I take you sledging, will you leave me alone for the rest of the day?”
Frank huffs. “You said it yourself: there’s no fucking snow, so it’s impossible to go sledging. By the way, do we even own a sled?”
This time it’s Bob turn to grin wide. “I may not be a wizard, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have a few tricks up my sleeve. In Chicago we have plenty of snow in winter, but...” He doesn’t end his sentence and as soon as he stops speaking he knows he has Frank on toast. The shorter boy’s eyes light up with curiosity and he starts bouncing again.
“What are you thinking of, Bob, tell me please!”
But Bob just smirks and shakes his head. “You’ll see if you promise to stop whining afterwards.”
“I promise! Can we go now?”
“Uh-huh. Go dress yourself, it’s cold outside.”
Frank bounces once again and runs upstairs in light speed, to grab his jacket and scarf. Bob can’t help to laugh at his antics; this little guy can be impossible sometimes. He puts on his own jacket and beanie and heads to the garage. He rummages in a few boxes and cabinets until he finds what he has been looking for, letting out a triumphant “ha!” sound and hiding the object in the trunk. Just in time; Frank is back. They get into the car and leave the house, Bob driving them to the outskirts.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
They reach their destination after fifteen minutes: a not too steep hill, hidden from the main road by the thick line of trees. When the hill is covered in snow it is full of people, mostly small children and their guardians. But now it’s entirely empty, much to Bob’s satisfaction. Making an idiot of himself in front of Frank is one thing, but another in front of complete strangers.
He opens up the track and presents his “sled” to his boyfriend. Frank seems to be unimpressed, if his raised eyebrows and dubious look are any indication.
“And what the hell is that?”
“Our sled,” Bob says proudly.
“Uhm... Funny thing, but I see only an old piece of cardboard.”
Bob sends him a glare that is supposed to make him cringe. It doesn’t though. After all this time Frank has become immune to Bob’s deadly glares.
“Use your imagination. Anyway, we didn’t come here to stand around and freeze our asses off. Come with me, I’ll show you.” With that, he grabs Frank by the hand and drags him up the hill, his other hand holding the cardboard.
Once they are on the top, Bob puts the cardboard on the edge of the slop, and makes the other man sit down on it. Frank still has this doubtful expression on, but he is giggling softly, smelling a lot of fun, even if this is one of the craziest ideas he has ever heard about.
“Now hold on and...” Bob places his hands on the smaller man’s back and pushes. The grass covering the hill is damp and slippery so it carries the cardboard at the very bottom of the knoll, with Frank atop of it. For the first few seconds he is too shocked to do anything but grip the edge of the cardboard tightly, but then he utters loudly “yoo-hoo!” before he stops in front of the trees. He scrambles onto his feet almost immediately and returns to the top only to ride down again
“Wow, Bob!” He exclaims as soon as he climbs back. “This is fucking awesome!”
Bob smiles and he is about to respond with ‘I’m glad you like it’ or something along the lines when Frank demands, “This time you have to go with me.”
“What? No!” He tries to back off, but Frank takes him by the arm and tugs. “Frank, no, it’s too small, my pants will be all stained...”
“Fuck your pants. We’ll wash them.” Bob starts to mumble something about how hard it is to wash grass and mud stains from denim material and the other man instantly switches to pouting. “Please Bob, only one time, please.” Bob is so helpless when it comes to Frank’s puppy eyes.
“Fine,” he grumbles and settles behind Frank on the board. It’s really not big enough for the two of them; he has to practically wrap himself around the smaller man to fit them both on the impromptu sled. They push off the ground with their legs and dash down.
One time turns into a second, a third and seventh; Bob’s grumbling about stained pants goes unnoticed. Yeah, Frank is really a little persistent and stubborn shit. But at the same time Bob can’t deny he enjoys riding down a muddy hill on a piece of an old carton, his face buried in Frank’s hair and his infectious giggle in his ears. And maybe Bob laughs too, one or two times, or maybe ten.
Eventually it’s starting to get dark, the sun is nothing more than a thin line on the horizon. It’s time to go back home but Frank wants the one last ride and Bob agrees. Only this time, instead of stopping graciously at the bottom of the hill, in the middle of it they ride into a protruding root. The cardboard turns abruptly right, they sway to the left and fall off of it, rolling down the hill. When they stop, Frank is lying atop of Bob and laughing so hard it’s almost painful. Bob is torn between being angry at the other man, whining because he obviously scratched his back on their way down and laughing too. But before he can decide what to do, Frank props himself on his elbows and hovers over Bob’s face.
“You know what?” he says, still smiling. “You look incredibly good with this mud on your face.” His fingers trace Bob’s forehead and cheeks. “And I still didn’t thank you for this awesome afternoon.”
Before the blonde can answer, Frank closes the gap between their faces and presses their lips together. Bob responds eagerly, opening his mouth and letting the smaller man take control over the kiss. Suddenly nothing else matters for him, there are just lips over his, and a hot tongue in his mouth, and hands in his hair. He wraps his arms around Frank’s waist and pulls him closer, their bodies colliding. Frank grinds their hips together impatiently, earning a low moan from Bob. He smirks into the kiss and rolls his hips a few times more with similar effect.
Bob is the one to break their kiss first. Frank leans down again, not willing to interrupt what they are doing, but stops when he sees Bob’s unhappy face.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Not really. There is water soaking through my pants.”
Frank lets out a low chuckle. “If this is such a problem for you, we can get rid of them.”
The other man sits up, Frank still straddling his hips and gives him a deep kiss. “I suggest,” he says, their foreheads touching, “we continue this at home.”
Frank looks like he wants to argue, but then the wind blows sharply into his face and he shivers. “Okay. But we have to get there very, very quickly.”
Bob laughs at this helping the other man to his feet. They recollect their ‘sled’ and return to the car.
As Bob predicted, their clothes are all stained and damp, and when he looks in his rear-view mirror there is dirt on his face, smudged with Frank fingers. All he is dreaming about at this moment is to shed the clinging fabric, hopefully with Frank’s help, and take a shower, also with Frank. But when his boyfriend sneezes twice when Bob pulls the car to a stop in front of their house, he has a premonition that his dreams won’t be fulfilled.
Once they get home, he orders Frank to check his temperature and ignores Frank’s complaints he is not a kid anymore and he doesn’t need Bob to mother-hen him constantly. Bob smiles shaking his head at this inconsistency and goes to the kitchen to make them coffee. When he gets back, he is greeted with the thermometer showing almost one hundred degrees and Frank coughing fiercely in his fist. This is how taking Frank outside in such a weather ends, he thinks and he is slightly angry at himself. He should have known better than that.
He puts the mugs down on the coffee table and orders: “Get out of these clothes...”
“Quicker than you think.” Frank grins and pulls his sweater over his head.
“...and jump into bed, while I find a Theraflu for you.”
“What? No, I’m fine! Come on, we were supposed to do something el--” he has to break off because he starts couching again.
“Yeah, I see how you’re fine. I don’t want you to sneeze on me while we’re having sex. That would be the grossest thing ever. A total turn-off, I’m telling you.” He has to duck down to avoid Frank’s punch. He giggles and goes back to the kitchen. “Five minutes, Frank!” he calls starting to rummage through the cupboards.
After knowing Bob all these years, Frank knows better than arguing. But it doesn’t stop him from muttering curses about Bob and his stupid prejudices while he takes off his clothes and crawls under the covers in their bedroom. He didn’t even know how tired he was until he is lying down and drinking obediently the medicine Bob brought him.
“Thanks for the awesome afternoon.” He says again ad smiles up at Bob.
Bob takes one glance at Frank’s half lidded eyes and says. “You’re welcome. Now, get some sleep, okay?”
“Okay. Kiss me, at least?”
“And let all your germs infect me?” Frank sends him a deadly glare and Bob chuckles. Then he leans down and gives him a slow kiss. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me,” he says and leaves the room, closing the door quietly after him. Then he heads to the bathroom, to take this so needed shower and change his dirty clothes.
Once he is back downstairs in the living room he can’t help smiling widely at the coffee still standing there and the Xbox, waiting for him since lunchtime. Of course he is sorry that Frank got ill but that also means he finally has time to play.
Well, at least one hour, until Frank will wake up and demand a soup and cuddling.
Prompt: 021. Winter
My Prompt Table.
Author: littleladypunk
Beta: alles_luege
Pairing: Bob/Frank
Words count: ~2,100
Rating: R-ish.
Summary: Frank wants to play in the snow, but there isn’t any. Bob, as awesome boyfriend as he is, comes to the rescue. And it has nothing to do with Frank whining and sighing half the day.
Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction. Never happened in real life. All men belong to themselves and their respective wives.
Warnings: Childish behavior, silliness, mention of sex.
It is like the fifteenth time Frank looks out the window today and it’s only shortly after midday. When he isn’t doing it, he’s far from being still. He paces back and forth around the room, sits down on the couch only to stand up a minute later, arranges things on the coffee table continually and sighs a lot. Bob tries to block out every sound he makes and to focus on playing his video game, but it’s hard when Frank crosses his line of view every now and then. Finally he can’t stand it anymore. He puts the game on hold and grabs his boyfriend by the arm when he passes by again. A firm jerk makes Frank sit down abruptly on the couch with a quiet flop.
“Would you please be still at least for ten goddamned minutes?” Bob didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but he is very annoyed at this point.
Frank is completely unfazed by the other man’s sudden outburst.
“But Booooob,” he whines. “I’m bored. I wanna snow.”
Bob sighs. Frank can be so immature sometimes. “Well, obviously there’s no snow anywhere, so deal with it and let others live.”
“But it’s almost the end of January and winter has been officially here for thirty-four days, and still; no snow!”
That earns him a confused look from Bob. “You count the days?”
“Of course I do, and--” The other man interrupts him, waving his hand dismissively.
“Never mind. Stop bothering me, I can’t make it snow. Do I look like a wizard?”
Frank eyes him, seeming to consider the point. “If you grew your beard and dyed it white, you’d looked like Dumbledore, you already have blue eyes.”
Bob looks at the ceiling, obviously praying for patience. “Frank.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Anyway, what do you need the snow for? It’s wet and cold.”
The look Bob receives tells him he is a moron. “For fun. What else? With snow you can make angels and snowmen, and sledge and--”
“Frank. How old are you? Ten?”
Frank grins at this. “Twenty-eight, but I’m young at heart. And you, Bob Bryar, secretly love this side of me.”
To be honest, Bob loves all sides of Frank. Even the I-am-a-little-persistent-annoying-shit side, but he’d never admit it to anyone, even under the threat of death. He casts a longing look in the direction of his game
“If I take you sledging, will you leave me alone for the rest of the day?”
Frank huffs. “You said it yourself: there’s no fucking snow, so it’s impossible to go sledging. By the way, do we even own a sled?”
This time it’s Bob turn to grin wide. “I may not be a wizard, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have a few tricks up my sleeve. In Chicago we have plenty of snow in winter, but...” He doesn’t end his sentence and as soon as he stops speaking he knows he has Frank on toast. The shorter boy’s eyes light up with curiosity and he starts bouncing again.
“What are you thinking of, Bob, tell me please!”
But Bob just smirks and shakes his head. “You’ll see if you promise to stop whining afterwards.”
“I promise! Can we go now?”
“Uh-huh. Go dress yourself, it’s cold outside.”
Frank bounces once again and runs upstairs in light speed, to grab his jacket and scarf. Bob can’t help to laugh at his antics; this little guy can be impossible sometimes. He puts on his own jacket and beanie and heads to the garage. He rummages in a few boxes and cabinets until he finds what he has been looking for, letting out a triumphant “ha!” sound and hiding the object in the trunk. Just in time; Frank is back. They get into the car and leave the house, Bob driving them to the outskirts.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
They reach their destination after fifteen minutes: a not too steep hill, hidden from the main road by the thick line of trees. When the hill is covered in snow it is full of people, mostly small children and their guardians. But now it’s entirely empty, much to Bob’s satisfaction. Making an idiot of himself in front of Frank is one thing, but another in front of complete strangers.
He opens up the track and presents his “sled” to his boyfriend. Frank seems to be unimpressed, if his raised eyebrows and dubious look are any indication.
“And what the hell is that?”
“Our sled,” Bob says proudly.
“Uhm... Funny thing, but I see only an old piece of cardboard.”
Bob sends him a glare that is supposed to make him cringe. It doesn’t though. After all this time Frank has become immune to Bob’s deadly glares.
“Use your imagination. Anyway, we didn’t come here to stand around and freeze our asses off. Come with me, I’ll show you.” With that, he grabs Frank by the hand and drags him up the hill, his other hand holding the cardboard.
Once they are on the top, Bob puts the cardboard on the edge of the slop, and makes the other man sit down on it. Frank still has this doubtful expression on, but he is giggling softly, smelling a lot of fun, even if this is one of the craziest ideas he has ever heard about.
“Now hold on and...” Bob places his hands on the smaller man’s back and pushes. The grass covering the hill is damp and slippery so it carries the cardboard at the very bottom of the knoll, with Frank atop of it. For the first few seconds he is too shocked to do anything but grip the edge of the cardboard tightly, but then he utters loudly “yoo-hoo!” before he stops in front of the trees. He scrambles onto his feet almost immediately and returns to the top only to ride down again
“Wow, Bob!” He exclaims as soon as he climbs back. “This is fucking awesome!”
Bob smiles and he is about to respond with ‘I’m glad you like it’ or something along the lines when Frank demands, “This time you have to go with me.”
“What? No!” He tries to back off, but Frank takes him by the arm and tugs. “Frank, no, it’s too small, my pants will be all stained...”
“Fuck your pants. We’ll wash them.” Bob starts to mumble something about how hard it is to wash grass and mud stains from denim material and the other man instantly switches to pouting. “Please Bob, only one time, please.” Bob is so helpless when it comes to Frank’s puppy eyes.
“Fine,” he grumbles and settles behind Frank on the board. It’s really not big enough for the two of them; he has to practically wrap himself around the smaller man to fit them both on the impromptu sled. They push off the ground with their legs and dash down.
One time turns into a second, a third and seventh; Bob’s grumbling about stained pants goes unnoticed. Yeah, Frank is really a little persistent and stubborn shit. But at the same time Bob can’t deny he enjoys riding down a muddy hill on a piece of an old carton, his face buried in Frank’s hair and his infectious giggle in his ears. And maybe Bob laughs too, one or two times, or maybe ten.
Eventually it’s starting to get dark, the sun is nothing more than a thin line on the horizon. It’s time to go back home but Frank wants the one last ride and Bob agrees. Only this time, instead of stopping graciously at the bottom of the hill, in the middle of it they ride into a protruding root. The cardboard turns abruptly right, they sway to the left and fall off of it, rolling down the hill. When they stop, Frank is lying atop of Bob and laughing so hard it’s almost painful. Bob is torn between being angry at the other man, whining because he obviously scratched his back on their way down and laughing too. But before he can decide what to do, Frank props himself on his elbows and hovers over Bob’s face.
“You know what?” he says, still smiling. “You look incredibly good with this mud on your face.” His fingers trace Bob’s forehead and cheeks. “And I still didn’t thank you for this awesome afternoon.”
Before the blonde can answer, Frank closes the gap between their faces and presses their lips together. Bob responds eagerly, opening his mouth and letting the smaller man take control over the kiss. Suddenly nothing else matters for him, there are just lips over his, and a hot tongue in his mouth, and hands in his hair. He wraps his arms around Frank’s waist and pulls him closer, their bodies colliding. Frank grinds their hips together impatiently, earning a low moan from Bob. He smirks into the kiss and rolls his hips a few times more with similar effect.
Bob is the one to break their kiss first. Frank leans down again, not willing to interrupt what they are doing, but stops when he sees Bob’s unhappy face.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Not really. There is water soaking through my pants.”
Frank lets out a low chuckle. “If this is such a problem for you, we can get rid of them.”
The other man sits up, Frank still straddling his hips and gives him a deep kiss. “I suggest,” he says, their foreheads touching, “we continue this at home.”
Frank looks like he wants to argue, but then the wind blows sharply into his face and he shivers. “Okay. But we have to get there very, very quickly.”
Bob laughs at this helping the other man to his feet. They recollect their ‘sled’ and return to the car.
As Bob predicted, their clothes are all stained and damp, and when he looks in his rear-view mirror there is dirt on his face, smudged with Frank fingers. All he is dreaming about at this moment is to shed the clinging fabric, hopefully with Frank’s help, and take a shower, also with Frank. But when his boyfriend sneezes twice when Bob pulls the car to a stop in front of their house, he has a premonition that his dreams won’t be fulfilled.
Once they get home, he orders Frank to check his temperature and ignores Frank’s complaints he is not a kid anymore and he doesn’t need Bob to mother-hen him constantly. Bob smiles shaking his head at this inconsistency and goes to the kitchen to make them coffee. When he gets back, he is greeted with the thermometer showing almost one hundred degrees and Frank coughing fiercely in his fist. This is how taking Frank outside in such a weather ends, he thinks and he is slightly angry at himself. He should have known better than that.
He puts the mugs down on the coffee table and orders: “Get out of these clothes...”
“Quicker than you think.” Frank grins and pulls his sweater over his head.
“...and jump into bed, while I find a Theraflu for you.”
“What? No, I’m fine! Come on, we were supposed to do something el--” he has to break off because he starts couching again.
“Yeah, I see how you’re fine. I don’t want you to sneeze on me while we’re having sex. That would be the grossest thing ever. A total turn-off, I’m telling you.” He has to duck down to avoid Frank’s punch. He giggles and goes back to the kitchen. “Five minutes, Frank!” he calls starting to rummage through the cupboards.
After knowing Bob all these years, Frank knows better than arguing. But it doesn’t stop him from muttering curses about Bob and his stupid prejudices while he takes off his clothes and crawls under the covers in their bedroom. He didn’t even know how tired he was until he is lying down and drinking obediently the medicine Bob brought him.
“Thanks for the awesome afternoon.” He says again ad smiles up at Bob.
Bob takes one glance at Frank’s half lidded eyes and says. “You’re welcome. Now, get some sleep, okay?”
“Okay. Kiss me, at least?”
“And let all your germs infect me?” Frank sends him a deadly glare and Bob chuckles. Then he leans down and gives him a slow kiss. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me,” he says and leaves the room, closing the door quietly after him. Then he heads to the bathroom, to take this so needed shower and change his dirty clothes.
Once he is back downstairs in the living room he can’t help smiling widely at the coffee still standing there and the Xbox, waiting for him since lunchtime. Of course he is sorry that Frank got ill but that also means he finally has time to play.
Well, at least one hour, until Frank will wake up and demand a soup and cuddling.