Fic: The Best Day of Our Lives
Title: The Best Day of Our Lives
Author: valerie_z
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gerard/Frank friendship, Gerard/Eliza, Frank/Jamia
Summary: Gerard plans his wedding.
Disclaimer: This is pretend.
Warnings: If you say mean things about Jamia or Eliza in comments, I will politely lecture you about feminism. Please do such things elsewhere. We're women, so let's be respectful of other women. (But feel free to be mean to men. Fuck you, Tom Cruise!)
Notes: Thanks for reading this. Constructive criticism is welcome. All of my bandslash is here.
Gerard cleared the paper plates off the table, put on some coffee, then moved his chair so that he was sitting directly across from Eliza and Jamia. Next to him, Frank reached under his chair to retrieve a thick black binder. He opened it, turned to a fresh page, and held his pen poised and ready. Eliza and Jamia abruptly stopped their conversation and turned to look at the two men.
"I've invited you all to my mom's house this weekend because we have very important things to discuss," Gerard said.
Eliza held up her hand. "If this is about the Fantastic Four, I heard this speech last weekend."
"It's not about the Fantastic Four." Gerard paused thoughtfully. "Though I did make some revisions to that speech. We'll try to get to it later. Frank, make a note."
"Fantastic Four," Frank said aloud as he wrote it down.
Gerard stood up. "I've gathered you all here to discuss..." he put his hand on Frank's shoulder. "...our wedding."
Eliza and Jamie just stared at them for a moment.
"You're marrying Frank?" Eliza asked.
"What?" Gerard frowned. "No. I'm marrying you. Don't you remember?"
"Just checking," Eliza said. "He did kiss you twice during dinner."
"And he sucked Gerard's ear a little too," Jamia added. "I think you were in the bathroom."
"And I'm fine with that," Eliza continued. "Honestly, the only thing that bothers me about guy-on-guy action is that I don't always have my camera." She looked up at Gerard and smiled. "Frank can suck your ear all he wants."
"I can suck Gerard's ear," Frank said as he wrote.
"I thought you weren't getting married until next Summer," Jamia said.
"That's right," Gerard said as he sat back down. "So we only have thirteen months to plan. We have to get moving if we're going to arrange the huge fairytale princess wedding Eliza has been dreaming about since she was a little girl."
Eliza stretched her arms out in front of her. "Actually, I never wanted a fancy wedding. I was thinking we could just go to a judge and then have a casual reception in the basement of my mom's church."
Jamia touched Eliza's arm. "My sister would cater it for free."
"Does your friend Jen still DJ?"
"Oh! Or," Jamia continued. "You could go to Vegas."
Eliza gasped softly. "I'm such a good blackjack player."
"Really? Me too! I'm not Rain Man or anything, but I have a system."
"We could go to one of those chapels where an Elvis impersonator officiates!"
"That would be perfect!"
"Wait, wait, wait," Gerard said. "This is the best day of our lives. Do you really want it in a basement with Elvis? What about the big princess wedding you dreamt about when you were a little girl?"
Eliza shrugged. "I was kind of a tomboy."
Gerard just looked down at the tabletop.
"Gerard?" Eliza said gently. "Did you dream of a big princess wedding when you were a little girl?"
"Maybe," he muttered.
Eliza reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Then we'll do whatever makes you happy."
Gerard looked up and smiled. "Frank, make a note."
"Gerard is a princess," Frank said as he wrote.
Gerard sat up straighter and cleared his throat. "Let's start with the clothes. Frank, do you have the sketches?"
"I was thinking something simple and elegant," Eliza said to Jamia. "Tasteful. Understated." She looks at the sketch Frank slid across the table. "Are those sequins?"
Gerard smiled. "And the row under the sequins is tear-drop glass accents. It creates this shimmering, glowing -"
"I'm not wearing sequins and broken glass."
Gerard gripped the edge of the paper tightly. "But it's so shiny! And look at my outfit."
Frank slid another sketch across the table.
"This looks the same," Eliza said.
"No, see?" Gerard pointed at the paper. "Those are pants."
"Oh." Eliza studied it another moment. "I thought they were stockings. They're really tight." She looked up. "So you're wearing sequins too?"
"And the glass accents. And the cuffs and collar are embroidered with tinsel thread."
Jamia rolled her eyes, stood up, and went to the coffeepot on the counter.
Eliza nodded slowly as she slid the drawings back across the table. "How about this? You design your own outfit, and I'll get a simple dress that'll match anything."
Gerard shuffled the drawings a bit. "When I make mine, do you want me to save you some tinsel?"
"I would love it if you saved me some tinsel."
"Because tinsel goes with everything, you know."
"Buy extra tinsel," Frank said as he wrote.
"Please tell me we're not going to do this all night," Jamia said as she added cream to two coffee cups.
"I was thinking we could rent some movies," Eliza said. "Get some junk food and have a slumber party in the living room. We could tell scary stories and prank call people."
Jamia grinned as she carried the two cups back to the table. "I have Pete Wentz's home number."
Eliza giggled. "We could call and say we're from MTV News or something. And we have a copy of his sex tape."
"That’s perfect! We can see if he freaks out or if he says 'What sex tape?'"
"You know he's gonna freak out."
Gerard stood up. "Excuse me? You're getting all distracted, and we haven't even gone over the color scheme. Frank?"
"Gerard," Jamia warned.
Gerard waved a hand at her furiously. "Just look!" Frank held up two squares of color that looked like paint samples. "The colors are ivory and tamarisk. Before we break into teams, make sure you have the color samples with you. And remember that it's ivory and tamarisk. Tell them what I'll do, Frank, if they buy something white and pink instead of ivory and tamarisk."
Frank flipped a few pages in his binder, then scanned a page until he found the correct spot. He marked it with his finger, looked up, and said, "Cry."
Gerard looked at them. "I will cry."
Jamia stood up and grabbed Eliza's hand. "We have to make a phone call. You two stay here and order Frankie a new tiara for the ceremony."
"I really like your colors, honey," Eliza called out as they rushed into the living room.
"I am allowed to buy a new tiara," Frank said as he wrote this in the binder.
Gerard walked over to fix himself a cup of coffee. "Fine. We don't need them to plan an awesome wedding. Do you have the index cards?"
Frank took a small stack of index cards from the back of the binder and began laying them out on the table in a circular pattern. "Clothes, colors, location, food, cake, invitations, guest list, music, gift registry."
"Tear up that last one," Gerard said. "I registered online last night."
"Where'd you register?"
"Target. Mostly for pants."
"Pants?" Frank looked up from his binder. "You can't register for pants."
Gerard took a sip of the coffee and carried it back to the table. "But I need pants."
"It's your wedding," Frank argued. "You have to register for stuff like towels and big crystal bowls."
"Fine," Gerard said. "When we go back on tour next week, I'll bring some big crystal bowls for you."
Frank picked up Gerard's coffee cup and took a sip. "I'll be happy if you just bring deodorant for once."
Gerard's eyes narrowed. "How could you drink my coffee?"
Frank pointed at the coffeepot on the counter. "Promise about the deodorant, or I will spit in that whole pot, I swear." He began to get up out of his chair.
Gerard let out a yelp and grabbed Frank around the waist. "I will kill you, Frank."
Frank squirmed out of his grasp, but Gerard managed to grab his wrists.
"My mom won't be home until Monday," Gerard continued. "I'd have plenty of time to dismember you, melt your bones, and flush you down the toilet."
Frank pulled his arms back, freeing them from his hold. "You can't melt bones."
"Yes you can. You just need corrosive acid."
"Mm hm," Frank said with a smirk. "And where are you gonna buy corrosive acid?"
Gerard pointed at him. "We'll see how lame my idea is when you're dead in a toilet."
Frank stuck his tongue out.
Jamie and Eliza walked into the room, leaning against each other, breathless with laughter.
"He...he just screamed and dropped the phone," Jamia said. "It was hysterical."
"Who do you think he called first?" Eliza asked her. "Ashlee or Patrick?"
"Who do you think is in the sex tape?"
Jamia and Eliza dissolved into giggles, and even Frank couldn't help chuckling and giving his fiancée a high five.
"Don't encourage them," Gerard whispered.
Jamia grabbed one of Eliza's shoulders and squeezed it. "I have Bert McCracken's number too."
Eliza shrieked with laughter. "We can say we're the Department of Health."
Jamia covered her face with her hand, practically crying. "And he has an undocumented STD. And he has to come in so we can study him."
"Whoa, hey." Gerard pushed himself in between the two women. "No one is calling Bert McCracken."
Eliza put her arm around him. "Come on. I can get pointers about what you like in bed."
Gerard put his hands over his ears. "Frank! Help!"
Frank moved to Eliza's other side and put his arm around her shoulders. "Don't bother, Eliza. I can give you the e-mail addresses of his last two girlfriends."
"We are supposed to be planning my wedding!" Gerard shouted.
"Sweetheart," Eliza said, turning to face him. "It looks like you're on top of this wedding stuff. Jamia and I are just getting in the way. So we were thinking..." She trailed off with a guilty smile.
Jamia sighed. "Listen, Bridezilla. Eliza and I are going to Atlantic City tonight. You two can engage in whatever wacky hijinks you want, and we'll be back late tomorrow."
Eliza hugged Gerard. "You deserve the wedding of your dreams." She pulled back and grinned. "And I deserve to play blackjack all night."
Gerard kissed her briefly. "Have a good time. And don't let Jamia get you into trouble."
"Then we can't have a good time," Jamia teased as she got her jacket.
"Good riddance," Gerard said once they'd left and he was sitting at the kitchen table with Frank.
"Yeah," Frank said. "We don't need those crazy girls."
"Now that they're gone we can do cool guy things."
Frank opened his binder and turned to a page of text samples. "Let's talk about fonts."
After deciding on Copperplate Gothic Light, they went to Gerard's old bedroom in the basement to look at wedding locations online. Gerard sat in his desk chair, and Frank sat on his lap. They decided on a historic castle in Rockland County, New York, and printed out directions so they could visit the next day.
They decided to go to bed so they could get an early start in the morning. Gerard lay in his bed and called some relatives to give them the tentative wedding date, while Frank curled up beside him and flipped through his wedding binder, pausing occasionally to make notes.
"Hi Aunt Claire," Gerard said into the phone. "Did my mom tell you I'm getting married? Yeah, July fifteenth." He paused, and his smile faded slightly. "Yes, to a woman."
"We should call some florists too," Frank said as he turned a page.
"I know the place I want already," Gerard told him. "What?" he said into the phone. "Oh, that's Frank. He's in bed with me helping me plan my wedding." He paused. "Yes, to a woman. I gotta go. I'll mail you an invitation. Love you!"
Gerard hung up the phone and dialed again. "Uncle Joe? Hi; it's Gerard. Guess what? I'm getting married." He frowned. "No, not to Bert McCracken."
Frank burst into laughter.
"July fifteenth," Gerard continued. "Save the date, okay? I'll talk to you later." He hung up the phone and fell back against his pillows. "My Great Uncle Joe is ninety. How does he even know Bert?"
Frank closed the binder. "So where are we going first tomorrow?"
"Wherever you want," Gerard said as he got under the covers.
Frank curled up next to him with his head on his shoulder and let out a sleepy sigh. Gerard reached up and turned off the bedside lamp.
"When we go to look at cakes," Frank whispered. "Do you think they give us free cake samples?"
"I think they have to," Gerard said.
"Cool," Frank said through a yawn. "Let's do cakes first."
The next morning Frank took a shower, woke up Gerard, and then called the bakery to let them know when they'd be there. When he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, he found Gerard standing over the sink, washing under his arms with a washcloth.
Frank took a deep breath. "Please tell me you aren't going to start today, the day we plan your wedding, with a whore's bath."
"I don't feel like taking a shower," Gerard muttered.
"My nose feels like you taking a shower." Frank moved behind him and grabbed his wrist, stalling the motion of the washcloth. "Who do you think would win in a fight right now, me or you?"
Gerard looked at him in the mirror. "Do we have weapons?"
Frank shook his head.
Gerard cocked an eyebrow at him. "Do we have superpowers?"
Frank grabbed him around the waist and pushed him into the shower before he had time to react. Gerard stumbled a bit, and before he could get his footing, Frank had turned on the water and soaked them both.
"Dammit, Frank!" Gerard said as he put his hands over his eyes the shield them from the cold water.
Frank took the soap out of its dish and slammed it into Gerard's hand. "Wash everything," he demanded. "Don't make me check you later."
"Asshole," Gerard muttered. Frank got out of the shower and went into the bedroom to change into dry clothes.
The baker was an older man named Ed. He sat with them at a round table while a cute strawberry-blond girl worked at the counter. At one point she turned and blew a kiss at Ed. Gerard wondered whether she was his granddaughter or his girlfriend, and decided that either way he was creeped out by them.
The table was covered with small slices of cake samples, and as soon as they sat down Frank started breaking off pieces with his fingers and eating them.
"Ivory and Tamarisk," Gerard said as he handed two color samples to Ed. "I'm thinking something big, elaborate, breathtaking, and vegan."
Ed nodded. "That's no problem, sir."
Gerard put one hand to his forehead, as if in pain.
"Don't call him sir," Frank said through a mouthful of yellow cake. "This cashier at a gas station wearing a Fall Out Boy t-shirt called him sir last week and he almost cried."
Gerard looked up. "I should kick Pete Wentz's ass. Just on general principle. Make a note."
Frank opened the binder in his lap and said, "Learn how to fight," as he wrote it down.
Ed opened a hardcover book to a page of wedding cakes and passed it to Gerard. "Take a look at this one, Mr...uh...Gerard. This is our deluxe bridal special. We can do it in any style or flavor, and we can easily ship it to Massachusetts."
Gerard looked up from the gaudy cake on the page. "Massachusettes?"
"Canada?" Ed asked.
Gerard closed his eyes briefly. "I'm marrying a woman."
"Oh!" Ed's eyes widened. "I'm sorry I assumed. It's just that, well...you're holding hands."
Gerard and Frank looked between them, where they were, in fact, holding hands.
"We do this to show our contempt for the misogynistic heteronormative oppressive patriarchy," Gerard explained.
Frank leaned his head against Gerard's shoulder. "Also because cuddling feels nice."
Gerard nodded. "Cuddling does feel nice."
Ed looked down at a paper in front of him. "Um, well, if you like the deluxe, all that remains is to choose a flavor."
Frank stuck his finger in one of the half-eaten pieces in front of him and held it out to Gerard. "I like this one."
Gerard sucked Frank's finger into his mouth and moaned in approval.
"Wait; I didn't try this one." Frank grabbed a fluffy white piece and took a big bite, smearing it across his mouth in the process. "This is the best," he said through a full mouth.
"Let me try." Gerard leaned over and licked the creamy cake off Frank's lips. "Mmm," he said. He turned to Ed. "Oh, yeah. That's the one."
"Um...okay." Ed wrote something down on a sheet of paper and stood up. "Let me just have my sister prepare the sales order." He carried it over to the cute girl at the counter.
Gerard cringed and took the last piece of cake off the table.
The next stop was the florist, a small but beautifully-decorated storefront not far from Gerard's house. When they entered, the woman behind the counter looked up and screamed.
Frank grabbed Gerard's arm. "Crazed fan."
"I wish," Gerard muttered. He took a step forward and said, "Hello Stephanie, you evil bitch."
"Gerard!" Stephanie rushed around the counter and crushed him in a hug. "How long has it been? Twenty years? You look exactly the same."
"I look like a chubby fifth grader?"
Stephanie released him from the hug, though she grasped his shoulders tightly. "I'm so glad you've done well for yourself. My daughter Trish just loves your music. But my other two kids think you're derivative."
"God, I hate you," Gerard said.
Stephanie reacted by shrieking out a laugh and pulling him into another hug. She looked over his shoulder at Frank. "So has Gerard told you about me?"
"Just my therapist," Gerard said as he squirmed out of her hold.
Stephanie smiled. "I must've beat up Gerard every day in Middle School."
Frank stifled a laugh. "You beat him up?"
Stephanie grabbed Gerard by the shoulders again. "Remember when I made your nose bleed?" She collapsed into giggles.
Gerard shoved her hands off him. "I'm just here to buy flowers, okay? They're for my wedding."
Stephanie's eyes widened.
"To a woman!" Gerard shouted.
The few other customers in the shop turned to look at him.
Stephanie put one arm around each man and led them to a corner of the shop where there were three large arrangements and a book titled Flowers Last Forever.
"Take a look at the wedding section," Stephanie said as she set the book down on a small table and opened it. "Do you have a color theme?"
"Ivory and tamarisk," Gerard said.
"Did your fiancée pick those out?"
Gerard shook his head. "She doesn't care about these things."
Stephanie smiled. "Is that because she's a lesbian?"
"I will punch you in the face." Gerard took a step forward, but Frank stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Remember that one time I knocked you unconscious?" Stephanie laughed.
Gerard covered his face with his hands. "Frank. Help."
Frank stepped in front of him and faced Stephanie. "Can you dye roses ivory and tamarisk?"
"Absolutely."
"Then we'll need a bouquet for the bride, and four for bridesmaids. Individual lapel flowers for Gerard and four groomsmen. Two corsages for the mothers, ten small bouquets for the ends of each row of chairs, and five freestanding arrangements."
Gerard tapped his shoulder. "Eliza has three bridesmaids: her sister, Jamia, and Alicia."
"Three bridesmaid bouquets," Frank told Stephanie.
"And I have six," Gerard continued. "You, Mikey, Ray, Bob, Brian, and Jack."
"Who the hell is Jack?" Frank asked with a frown.
"The bus driver."
"You're making our bus driver a groomsman?"
"Shut up. He's my friend."
Frank turned back to Stephanie. "Six groomsmen," he said. He opened his binder and spoke aloud as he wrote. "Find Gerard some new friends."
"I'll go write up the sales order," Stephanie said. She pointed at them and winked. "Don't run away now. This isn't the playground."
Gerard started after her, but Frank grabbed his arm again.
"If she makes you that upset, why don't we go to a different florist?" Frank suggested.
Gerard shook his head. "She's the best florist in the area. I'm not gonna cut corners when planning the best day of my life." Gerard picked up the Flowers Last Forever book and griped it tightly. "My wedding day is going to be perfect and beautiful if I have to kill everyone in the world."
Stephanie returned with a clipboard, and Frank filled out all of Gerard's personal information, including his credit card number.
"How do you have my credit card number?" Gerard asked, peering over his shoulder.
"Remember last tour when you asked me where I got so many nice hoodies? Now you know." He signed Gerard's name on the bottom of the form and handed it back to Stephanie.
"You're the reason I have no pants," Gerard hissed, hitting him on the shoulder with the flower book.
Stephanie tore a carbon copy off her clipboard and handed it to Frank. "We'll call you a month before the event to confirm." She put her hand on Gerard's shoulder. "And I hope your fiancée gets the green card she must desperately need."
Gerard lunged at her, but Frank managed to get between them, and pushed Gerard toward the door. Gerard tossed the book to the floor as they exited, shouting, "Flowers don't last forever, you demon woman!"
Since Gerard was so worked up, Frank suggested they go to the craft store in the mall next, since art supplies always calmed him down. When they walked into the store, the middle-aged woman at register 2 looked up and said, "Hi Gerard! I'll be right with you."
"Hi Sue!" he called back. "Take your time."
Frank looked over at him. "You're on a first-name basis with the craft store employees?"
Gerard rolled his eyes. "I'm an artist. I buy art supplies a lot."
Sue walked up to them. "Here for another bead kit?"
Frank's mouth dropped open.
"Sequins, actually," Gerard told her, and Sue led them to a far corner of the store.
"You play with beads?" Frank asked as they walked.
"My second cousin Tara is six," Gerard explained. "She's never heard of MCR, but she thinks I'm the coolest person in the world. You know why? Because I make the prettiest bead necklaces ever." He turned and glared at Frank. "Ever."
Frank held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I guess I better recognize."
"Damn straight," Gerard muttered.
After acquiring sequins, glass accents, and tinsel thread, they walked through the mall to hit the food court before leaving. Gerard stopped abruptly in front of one of the new stores, where the glass window proclaimed its name in swooping pink text: You Go Girlfriend! Through the window they could see cheap plastic jewelry, Bratz dolls, and a slutty schoolgirl outfit in a size that seemed meant for eight year-olds.
"This is what's wrong with America," Gerard said. "Look how sexuality and consumerism is marketed to young girls. It's despicable."
"Despicable," Frank echoed.
"I don't know how Eliza and Jamia became such amazing women surrounded by all these negative influences." Gerard's face hardened, his lips forming a tight line. "This is just another symptom of society's inherent misogyny. It's inexcusable, and it's disgusting."
"Disgusting," Frank repeated.
They stood in silence for a moment, staring at the store.
"Can I go in and buy fairy wings?" Frank asked softly.
"I think I see feather boas." Gerard grabbed Frank's hand and led him into the store.
The next stop was Howerton Castle, a restored castle and estate in Rockland County that hosted weddings and parties. The ground were beautiful, with gardens, waterfalls, and winding stone walls, and the castle itself was a stunning combination of modern amenities and medieval style. Gerard was in love. He stood in the entranceway, looked up at the chandelier, grabbed Frank by the shoulders, shook him, and squeaked out a high-pitched, "It's so perfect oh my god I'm going to die!"
Frank reached behind him to prevent himself from hitting the wall. "Dude, don't crush my wings."
A young woman walked up to greet them. She presented well, wearing heels, a designer suit, and what Gerard immediately recognized as a two-hundred-dollar dye job. "I'm Miranda," she said, holding her hand out to each of them in turn. "It's so good to meet you."
Gerard reached out and pulled a lock of hair out of her French twist. "This is nice," he said. "What do you condition with?"
Frank slapped his hand away. "It's nice to meet you, Miranda," he said. "We love Howerton Castle already."
"I probably shouldn't say this," Miranda said with an embarrassed smile. "But I'm a big fan."
"Hey, nothing wrong with that," Frank said with a grin. "Without people like you, Gerard would still be sitting in a cubicle somewhere, spanking his cartoon monkey."
Gerard shot him a dirty look. "Yeah, what about you?"
"I would still be cool," Frank said confidently.
Miranda handed them each a brochure. "Let's do a brief tour of the facility, and then we can have tea in the reception room and discuss the specifics of your event."
They walked through the spacious upstairs rooms, which Miranda explained could be used as staging areas for the wedding party. Downstairs there was a music room with a grand piano and an impressive array of amplifiers, a massive dining room with gorgeous wood furniture, a room with a sound system and dance floor, and a room with just antique couches and chairs. In each room Gerard squeed happily, until Frank had to point out that only dogs could hear him.
They ended up in the reception room, a large dining area with two glass walls facing the gardens. They sat around a table and were served tea by a man in a tuxedo. Miranda took out a binder and pen, and Frank rushed to take out his binder as well.
"Do you know how many guests you might have?" she asked.
Gerard frowned. "Well, there's Mikey." He began counting off people on his fingers. "Bob, Ray, Brian, Jack." He paused. "My mom. The Killers."
"Around a hundred," Frank said.
Gerard leaned his chair back a bit and smiled. "It'll be amazing. With a place like this, it's totally gonna be a fairy tale wedding."
"He's the princess," Frank said.
Gerard nodded. "I am."
"Let's talk about food," Miranda said. "Our deluxe four-course meal is one hundred dollars."
"That's reasonable," Gerard said.
Frank made a note in his binder. "She means per person."
Gerard's chair fell backwards.
"Oh my god!" Miranda stood up.
Frank waved her back to her seat. "It's okay. We're very injury-prone, but we bounce back quickly."
Gerard stood, brushed off his pants, checked his hair, and sat down again, this time holding on to Frank's waist to prevent further accidents. "So it's a hundred per person?"
"That's for dinner," Miranda said. "Then there are hors d'oeuvres, beverages, alcohol, gratuity, and equipment rental. I'm assuming you'll have live music?"
"I talked to Branden yesterday," Frank said to Gerard. "He said Rancid'll do it."
"Yeah, because there's nothing more romantic than ska," Gerard said. "We're not decided yet about the music," he told Miranda.
"Gerard is an ungrateful bitch," Frank muttered as he wrote in his binder.
Miranda handed Gerard a laminated sheet of paper. "This lists the various prices for all our meal combinations, with extras on the bottom. If you'd like to go through it now, I'll be happy to help total it up."
"That's all right," Gerard said as he looked over the list. "So this...this is everything?"
"Yes," Miranda said. "Except for the castle rental fee, which is one thousand, three hundred."
Gerard gripped the waist of Frank's jeans. "Per night?"
"Per hour."
Gerard closed his eyes.
"Sell out," Frank said as he wrote in his binder. He looked up at Miranda. "We should probably discuss this further at home. Could we call you tomorrow?"
"Absolutely," she said. "Just one last question. We like to know about the type of service in advance, so we can remove any potentially offensive religious icons from our décor." She put her pen to the page in front of her. "Are you having a Christian ceremony, or is it a more unconventional service, since it involves a same-sex union?"
Gerard opened his eyes and sighed. "I'm not marrying Frank."
"Oh!" Miranda blushed. "I'm so sorry, it's just -"
"Because we kiss on stage," Gerard finished for her. "It's not sexual. It's a social statement."
"I completely understand," Miranda said. "But -"
"Is it because of my wings?" Frank asked.
"No, no," Miranda assured him. "Your wings are lovely. It's just..." She bit down on her lower lip nervously. "Well, your hand is in his pants."
Gerard looked over at Frank's waist, where his hand had slid completely inside Frank's pants, and was resting on the front of his hip. Frank noticed at the same time, and looked equally surprised.
Gerard took his hand out of Frank's pants and placed it in his lap. "We're very good friends," he said softly.
Frank stood up. "Miranda, it was great to meet you. We'll be in touch."
Miranda shook his hand. "The pleasure was all mine." She reached out and shook Gerard's hand as well. "And congratulations on getting back together with Bert McCracken."
Once in the parking lot, Gerard stopped and pressed his fingers to his temples. "I'm planning the best day of my life, and it's making me fucking miserable. That's it. I'm relapsing."
Frank stopped walking. "What?"
Gerard shot him a confused look. "What?" His eyes widened with realization. "Oh! No, not like that. I've been trying to cut down on caffeine. I haven't had a latte in three days."
"Oh my god," Frank said. "No wonder you're such a bitch." He put his arm around Gerard and steered him toward the car. "Come on. Let's get you to a Starbucks."
Gerard put his face on Frank's shoulder and choked out a muffled, "Thank you, Frankie."
Back at his mother's house, Gerard sat on the couch with a venti café mocha in one hand and his cell phone in the other. Frank walked in with Gerard's suit jacket and their bag from the craft store.
"Mikey," Gerard said into the phone. "I can honestly tell you that I personally have not prank called Pete Wentz." He paused. "I can't speak for them. There's no telling what they do in their free time. Women are complex and mysterious creatures."
Frank took his cell phone out of his pocket, looked and the display, and held it out to Gerard. The text message read, "won 2k spent it on a red guitar. did shots made friends got arrested. c u 6pm. luv u -j"
Gerard smiled and went back to his phone call. "Look, I have important work to do tonight. Can you drop it? Why do you even care if Pete's freaking out over some -" Gerard's eyes widened. "Oh my god. You're the one in the sex tape!"
Frank covered his mouth to stifle a laugh.
Gerard stood up. "Fine. It was Eliza. Now hang up the phone and let us never, ever speak of this again. I'll give you call Thursday when we're back on tour." He hung up the phone before Mikey had a chance to respond.
Gerard sat down on the couch, and Frank handed him a threaded needle and a small plastic bag of sequins. Gerard had already marked out the patterns he wanted on the jacket, so they spread it across both their laps and began working on either side of the jacket, sewing on sequins in long, curved rows.
When Frank had finished the first row, he put the needle between his lips, tilted his head, and considered his work. "This is a bit much, man. Even for you."
Gerard was holding his end of the jacket close to his face and examining his sequins critically. "You're just jealous of how pretty I'm gonna look."
"True," Frank admitted.
"You know what I think about sometimes?" Gerard let the jacket fall into his lap. "I think about getting old. Not like, thirty-old, but really old. Eliza will still be funny and smart and beautiful, and I'll still be moody and weird. We'll have three kids, and I'll love them so much, even though one will be a total fuck-up. Hell, I'll probably love that one a little more, you know? One'll end up a musician, and one will rebel against me by being really into like, Nascar or some shit. And one Sunday after our big family dinner, we'll sit around having coffee, and we'll make the grandkids look at old photos. And one of them'll open the cover of the big white photo album, and he'll sigh and say, 'Wow, Grandpa. You could really rock a feather boa.'"
"I love the inside of your brain," Frank said without looking up from his sewing.
Gerard looked down at a loose sequin in the palm of his hand. "You and Jamia," he said. "You've been together for a long time."
"Oh, yeah. Since forever."
Gerard looked over at him. "Is it still as good now as it was in the beginning?"
"Nope." Frank pulled a piece of thread through the jacket and knotted it. "It's better."
"Really?"
Frank nodded. "It just gets better and better. Every day is more amazing. Every moment I think I can't possibly love her more, and then the next moment I do. I feel like one day I'm gonna be so happy I'll just explode. I don't know how it's possible for life with another person to be this good, but it's so fucking good." He looked over at Gerard with a slight smile on his face. "And every day it only gets better."
Gerard looked down at the jacket in his lap. "Do you think I have that?" he asked softly.
Frank went back to his stitching. "I'm not gonna get involved in your personal stuff, G."
"Oh, please," Gerard said. "Two weeks ago you grabbed my crotch on stage. I'd say we're close."
Frank was quiet, and finished the sequin he was working on slowly, looping the thread over it an extra time and knotting the thread carefully. He clipped off the end of the thread, looked up, and said, "Why are you getting married?"
Gerard just stared at him. "Because..." He waved one hand, as if that explained everything. "You know...."
"Are you doing it because you want a big party and a fancy outfit?"
"Of course not," Gerard said with a scowl.
"Are you doing it because you want a house and a picket fence and grandchildren?"
Gerard looked down at his hands.
Frank placed his scissors and needle down on the coffee table, and pushed the jacket off his lap. "Are you doing it because Mikey got married?" Frank asked, his voice soft. "And you miss him?"
Gerard put his hand to his forehead, blocking his eyes from view. "And you. You're next. And then Ray, and then..."
Frank reached out and pulled Gerard's arm down gently, so he could meet his gaze. "I'm never gonna leave you alone," he said. "That is both a promise and a threat."
Gerard smiled weakly. "I take it these are the wrong reasons to get married."
"They're not the right reasons."
Gerard opened his mouth, almost asking What are the right reasons?, but he had a feeling that him not knowing the answer was an answer itself.
Frank's phone chirped softly. He picked it up and smiled when he saw the caller ID. "Hey sweets." He laughed. "You dork. No problem. I'll be right there." He hung up. "She forgot her keys." He stood up. "I gotta go, but I'll come back. We'll hang out."
Gerard stood up as well. "Don't worry about it."
"You sure you're okay?"
"I have to figure stuff out, talk to Eliza, you know."
"Call me if you need anything?"
Gerard nodded. "Thanks for everything today. I mean...you were a really good friend."
Frank pulled him into a hug. "That's my job," he said. He released Gerard and moved to leave the room.
"Hey Frank?"
Frank turned around.
Gerard smiled, and his eyes flickered to the ground for a moment. "So hey, if your wife ever leaves you, will you run away with me to a cabin in the woods where we'll write music, eat Pop Tarts, and experiment with our sexuality?"
Frank took a step forward and kissed him briefly on the lips. "I thought that was the plan all along," he said. He turned and headed for the front door. "See ya' next week on the bus!" he called out.
"See ya!" Gerard replied, but the door had already closed.
Gerard gathered up the craft store supplies and put them in the closet in the spare bedroom where his mother kept her sewing box. He went to the kitchen, rinsed off the coffee cups from the night before, and put them in the dishwasher. Since it had been just him in the house for the past few days, the only things in the dishwasher were cups and spoons. He took a few clean plates out of the cabinet and put them on the bottom rack, that way his mother would think he'd been eating something other than take-out.
He closed the dishwasher, turned off the overhead light, and stood in the middle of the room. It wasn't completely dark outside, so he could still see, but the appliances, the line of the counter, and the dark edges of the cabinets looked like outlines, like someone's drawing of what a kitchen should look like. Through his socks the tile felt too solid, like it was reality and he was something soft and transient, a visitor in this house he's lived in all his life, sketching rooms that could never really be his.
He went to the living room, folded his sequined jacket, walked down to the basement, and hid it in the furthest corner of his closet.
Frank's notes.
Author: valerie_z
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gerard/Frank friendship, Gerard/Eliza, Frank/Jamia
Summary: Gerard plans his wedding.
Disclaimer: This is pretend.
Warnings: If you say mean things about Jamia or Eliza in comments, I will politely lecture you about feminism. Please do such things elsewhere. We're women, so let's be respectful of other women. (But feel free to be mean to men. Fuck you, Tom Cruise!)
Notes: Thanks for reading this. Constructive criticism is welcome. All of my bandslash is here.
Gerard cleared the paper plates off the table, put on some coffee, then moved his chair so that he was sitting directly across from Eliza and Jamia. Next to him, Frank reached under his chair to retrieve a thick black binder. He opened it, turned to a fresh page, and held his pen poised and ready. Eliza and Jamia abruptly stopped their conversation and turned to look at the two men.
"I've invited you all to my mom's house this weekend because we have very important things to discuss," Gerard said.
Eliza held up her hand. "If this is about the Fantastic Four, I heard this speech last weekend."
"It's not about the Fantastic Four." Gerard paused thoughtfully. "Though I did make some revisions to that speech. We'll try to get to it later. Frank, make a note."
"Fantastic Four," Frank said aloud as he wrote it down.
Gerard stood up. "I've gathered you all here to discuss..." he put his hand on Frank's shoulder. "...our wedding."
Eliza and Jamie just stared at them for a moment.
"You're marrying Frank?" Eliza asked.
"What?" Gerard frowned. "No. I'm marrying you. Don't you remember?"
"Just checking," Eliza said. "He did kiss you twice during dinner."
"And he sucked Gerard's ear a little too," Jamia added. "I think you were in the bathroom."
"And I'm fine with that," Eliza continued. "Honestly, the only thing that bothers me about guy-on-guy action is that I don't always have my camera." She looked up at Gerard and smiled. "Frank can suck your ear all he wants."
"I can suck Gerard's ear," Frank said as he wrote.
"I thought you weren't getting married until next Summer," Jamia said.
"That's right," Gerard said as he sat back down. "So we only have thirteen months to plan. We have to get moving if we're going to arrange the huge fairytale princess wedding Eliza has been dreaming about since she was a little girl."
Eliza stretched her arms out in front of her. "Actually, I never wanted a fancy wedding. I was thinking we could just go to a judge and then have a casual reception in the basement of my mom's church."
Jamia touched Eliza's arm. "My sister would cater it for free."
"Does your friend Jen still DJ?"
"Oh! Or," Jamia continued. "You could go to Vegas."
Eliza gasped softly. "I'm such a good blackjack player."
"Really? Me too! I'm not Rain Man or anything, but I have a system."
"We could go to one of those chapels where an Elvis impersonator officiates!"
"That would be perfect!"
"Wait, wait, wait," Gerard said. "This is the best day of our lives. Do you really want it in a basement with Elvis? What about the big princess wedding you dreamt about when you were a little girl?"
Eliza shrugged. "I was kind of a tomboy."
Gerard just looked down at the tabletop.
"Gerard?" Eliza said gently. "Did you dream of a big princess wedding when you were a little girl?"
"Maybe," he muttered.
Eliza reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Then we'll do whatever makes you happy."
Gerard looked up and smiled. "Frank, make a note."
"Gerard is a princess," Frank said as he wrote.
Gerard sat up straighter and cleared his throat. "Let's start with the clothes. Frank, do you have the sketches?"
"I was thinking something simple and elegant," Eliza said to Jamia. "Tasteful. Understated." She looks at the sketch Frank slid across the table. "Are those sequins?"
Gerard smiled. "And the row under the sequins is tear-drop glass accents. It creates this shimmering, glowing -"
"I'm not wearing sequins and broken glass."
Gerard gripped the edge of the paper tightly. "But it's so shiny! And look at my outfit."
Frank slid another sketch across the table.
"This looks the same," Eliza said.
"No, see?" Gerard pointed at the paper. "Those are pants."
"Oh." Eliza studied it another moment. "I thought they were stockings. They're really tight." She looked up. "So you're wearing sequins too?"
"And the glass accents. And the cuffs and collar are embroidered with tinsel thread."
Jamia rolled her eyes, stood up, and went to the coffeepot on the counter.
Eliza nodded slowly as she slid the drawings back across the table. "How about this? You design your own outfit, and I'll get a simple dress that'll match anything."
Gerard shuffled the drawings a bit. "When I make mine, do you want me to save you some tinsel?"
"I would love it if you saved me some tinsel."
"Because tinsel goes with everything, you know."
"Buy extra tinsel," Frank said as he wrote.
"Please tell me we're not going to do this all night," Jamia said as she added cream to two coffee cups.
"I was thinking we could rent some movies," Eliza said. "Get some junk food and have a slumber party in the living room. We could tell scary stories and prank call people."
Jamia grinned as she carried the two cups back to the table. "I have Pete Wentz's home number."
Eliza giggled. "We could call and say we're from MTV News or something. And we have a copy of his sex tape."
"That’s perfect! We can see if he freaks out or if he says 'What sex tape?'"
"You know he's gonna freak out."
Gerard stood up. "Excuse me? You're getting all distracted, and we haven't even gone over the color scheme. Frank?"
"Gerard," Jamia warned.
Gerard waved a hand at her furiously. "Just look!" Frank held up two squares of color that looked like paint samples. "The colors are ivory and tamarisk. Before we break into teams, make sure you have the color samples with you. And remember that it's ivory and tamarisk. Tell them what I'll do, Frank, if they buy something white and pink instead of ivory and tamarisk."
Frank flipped a few pages in his binder, then scanned a page until he found the correct spot. He marked it with his finger, looked up, and said, "Cry."
Gerard looked at them. "I will cry."
Jamia stood up and grabbed Eliza's hand. "We have to make a phone call. You two stay here and order Frankie a new tiara for the ceremony."
"I really like your colors, honey," Eliza called out as they rushed into the living room.
"I am allowed to buy a new tiara," Frank said as he wrote this in the binder.
Gerard walked over to fix himself a cup of coffee. "Fine. We don't need them to plan an awesome wedding. Do you have the index cards?"
Frank took a small stack of index cards from the back of the binder and began laying them out on the table in a circular pattern. "Clothes, colors, location, food, cake, invitations, guest list, music, gift registry."
"Tear up that last one," Gerard said. "I registered online last night."
"Where'd you register?"
"Target. Mostly for pants."
"Pants?" Frank looked up from his binder. "You can't register for pants."
Gerard took a sip of the coffee and carried it back to the table. "But I need pants."
"It's your wedding," Frank argued. "You have to register for stuff like towels and big crystal bowls."
"Fine," Gerard said. "When we go back on tour next week, I'll bring some big crystal bowls for you."
Frank picked up Gerard's coffee cup and took a sip. "I'll be happy if you just bring deodorant for once."
Gerard's eyes narrowed. "How could you drink my coffee?"
Frank pointed at the coffeepot on the counter. "Promise about the deodorant, or I will spit in that whole pot, I swear." He began to get up out of his chair.
Gerard let out a yelp and grabbed Frank around the waist. "I will kill you, Frank."
Frank squirmed out of his grasp, but Gerard managed to grab his wrists.
"My mom won't be home until Monday," Gerard continued. "I'd have plenty of time to dismember you, melt your bones, and flush you down the toilet."
Frank pulled his arms back, freeing them from his hold. "You can't melt bones."
"Yes you can. You just need corrosive acid."
"Mm hm," Frank said with a smirk. "And where are you gonna buy corrosive acid?"
Gerard pointed at him. "We'll see how lame my idea is when you're dead in a toilet."
Frank stuck his tongue out.
Jamie and Eliza walked into the room, leaning against each other, breathless with laughter.
"He...he just screamed and dropped the phone," Jamia said. "It was hysterical."
"Who do you think he called first?" Eliza asked her. "Ashlee or Patrick?"
"Who do you think is in the sex tape?"
Jamia and Eliza dissolved into giggles, and even Frank couldn't help chuckling and giving his fiancée a high five.
"Don't encourage them," Gerard whispered.
Jamia grabbed one of Eliza's shoulders and squeezed it. "I have Bert McCracken's number too."
Eliza shrieked with laughter. "We can say we're the Department of Health."
Jamia covered her face with her hand, practically crying. "And he has an undocumented STD. And he has to come in so we can study him."
"Whoa, hey." Gerard pushed himself in between the two women. "No one is calling Bert McCracken."
Eliza put her arm around him. "Come on. I can get pointers about what you like in bed."
Gerard put his hands over his ears. "Frank! Help!"
Frank moved to Eliza's other side and put his arm around her shoulders. "Don't bother, Eliza. I can give you the e-mail addresses of his last two girlfriends."
"We are supposed to be planning my wedding!" Gerard shouted.
"Sweetheart," Eliza said, turning to face him. "It looks like you're on top of this wedding stuff. Jamia and I are just getting in the way. So we were thinking..." She trailed off with a guilty smile.
Jamia sighed. "Listen, Bridezilla. Eliza and I are going to Atlantic City tonight. You two can engage in whatever wacky hijinks you want, and we'll be back late tomorrow."
Eliza hugged Gerard. "You deserve the wedding of your dreams." She pulled back and grinned. "And I deserve to play blackjack all night."
Gerard kissed her briefly. "Have a good time. And don't let Jamia get you into trouble."
"Then we can't have a good time," Jamia teased as she got her jacket.
"Good riddance," Gerard said once they'd left and he was sitting at the kitchen table with Frank.
"Yeah," Frank said. "We don't need those crazy girls."
"Now that they're gone we can do cool guy things."
Frank opened his binder and turned to a page of text samples. "Let's talk about fonts."
After deciding on Copperplate Gothic Light, they went to Gerard's old bedroom in the basement to look at wedding locations online. Gerard sat in his desk chair, and Frank sat on his lap. They decided on a historic castle in Rockland County, New York, and printed out directions so they could visit the next day.
They decided to go to bed so they could get an early start in the morning. Gerard lay in his bed and called some relatives to give them the tentative wedding date, while Frank curled up beside him and flipped through his wedding binder, pausing occasionally to make notes.
"Hi Aunt Claire," Gerard said into the phone. "Did my mom tell you I'm getting married? Yeah, July fifteenth." He paused, and his smile faded slightly. "Yes, to a woman."
"We should call some florists too," Frank said as he turned a page.
"I know the place I want already," Gerard told him. "What?" he said into the phone. "Oh, that's Frank. He's in bed with me helping me plan my wedding." He paused. "Yes, to a woman. I gotta go. I'll mail you an invitation. Love you!"
Gerard hung up the phone and dialed again. "Uncle Joe? Hi; it's Gerard. Guess what? I'm getting married." He frowned. "No, not to Bert McCracken."
Frank burst into laughter.
"July fifteenth," Gerard continued. "Save the date, okay? I'll talk to you later." He hung up the phone and fell back against his pillows. "My Great Uncle Joe is ninety. How does he even know Bert?"
Frank closed the binder. "So where are we going first tomorrow?"
"Wherever you want," Gerard said as he got under the covers.
Frank curled up next to him with his head on his shoulder and let out a sleepy sigh. Gerard reached up and turned off the bedside lamp.
"When we go to look at cakes," Frank whispered. "Do you think they give us free cake samples?"
"I think they have to," Gerard said.
"Cool," Frank said through a yawn. "Let's do cakes first."
The next morning Frank took a shower, woke up Gerard, and then called the bakery to let them know when they'd be there. When he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, he found Gerard standing over the sink, washing under his arms with a washcloth.
Frank took a deep breath. "Please tell me you aren't going to start today, the day we plan your wedding, with a whore's bath."
"I don't feel like taking a shower," Gerard muttered.
"My nose feels like you taking a shower." Frank moved behind him and grabbed his wrist, stalling the motion of the washcloth. "Who do you think would win in a fight right now, me or you?"
Gerard looked at him in the mirror. "Do we have weapons?"
Frank shook his head.
Gerard cocked an eyebrow at him. "Do we have superpowers?"
Frank grabbed him around the waist and pushed him into the shower before he had time to react. Gerard stumbled a bit, and before he could get his footing, Frank had turned on the water and soaked them both.
"Dammit, Frank!" Gerard said as he put his hands over his eyes the shield them from the cold water.
Frank took the soap out of its dish and slammed it into Gerard's hand. "Wash everything," he demanded. "Don't make me check you later."
"Asshole," Gerard muttered. Frank got out of the shower and went into the bedroom to change into dry clothes.
The baker was an older man named Ed. He sat with them at a round table while a cute strawberry-blond girl worked at the counter. At one point she turned and blew a kiss at Ed. Gerard wondered whether she was his granddaughter or his girlfriend, and decided that either way he was creeped out by them.
The table was covered with small slices of cake samples, and as soon as they sat down Frank started breaking off pieces with his fingers and eating them.
"Ivory and Tamarisk," Gerard said as he handed two color samples to Ed. "I'm thinking something big, elaborate, breathtaking, and vegan."
Ed nodded. "That's no problem, sir."
Gerard put one hand to his forehead, as if in pain.
"Don't call him sir," Frank said through a mouthful of yellow cake. "This cashier at a gas station wearing a Fall Out Boy t-shirt called him sir last week and he almost cried."
Gerard looked up. "I should kick Pete Wentz's ass. Just on general principle. Make a note."
Frank opened the binder in his lap and said, "Learn how to fight," as he wrote it down.
Ed opened a hardcover book to a page of wedding cakes and passed it to Gerard. "Take a look at this one, Mr...uh...Gerard. This is our deluxe bridal special. We can do it in any style or flavor, and we can easily ship it to Massachusetts."
Gerard looked up from the gaudy cake on the page. "Massachusettes?"
"Canada?" Ed asked.
Gerard closed his eyes briefly. "I'm marrying a woman."
"Oh!" Ed's eyes widened. "I'm sorry I assumed. It's just that, well...you're holding hands."
Gerard and Frank looked between them, where they were, in fact, holding hands.
"We do this to show our contempt for the misogynistic heteronormative oppressive patriarchy," Gerard explained.
Frank leaned his head against Gerard's shoulder. "Also because cuddling feels nice."
Gerard nodded. "Cuddling does feel nice."
Ed looked down at a paper in front of him. "Um, well, if you like the deluxe, all that remains is to choose a flavor."
Frank stuck his finger in one of the half-eaten pieces in front of him and held it out to Gerard. "I like this one."
Gerard sucked Frank's finger into his mouth and moaned in approval.
"Wait; I didn't try this one." Frank grabbed a fluffy white piece and took a big bite, smearing it across his mouth in the process. "This is the best," he said through a full mouth.
"Let me try." Gerard leaned over and licked the creamy cake off Frank's lips. "Mmm," he said. He turned to Ed. "Oh, yeah. That's the one."
"Um...okay." Ed wrote something down on a sheet of paper and stood up. "Let me just have my sister prepare the sales order." He carried it over to the cute girl at the counter.
Gerard cringed and took the last piece of cake off the table.
The next stop was the florist, a small but beautifully-decorated storefront not far from Gerard's house. When they entered, the woman behind the counter looked up and screamed.
Frank grabbed Gerard's arm. "Crazed fan."
"I wish," Gerard muttered. He took a step forward and said, "Hello Stephanie, you evil bitch."
"Gerard!" Stephanie rushed around the counter and crushed him in a hug. "How long has it been? Twenty years? You look exactly the same."
"I look like a chubby fifth grader?"
Stephanie released him from the hug, though she grasped his shoulders tightly. "I'm so glad you've done well for yourself. My daughter Trish just loves your music. But my other two kids think you're derivative."
"God, I hate you," Gerard said.
Stephanie reacted by shrieking out a laugh and pulling him into another hug. She looked over his shoulder at Frank. "So has Gerard told you about me?"
"Just my therapist," Gerard said as he squirmed out of her hold.
Stephanie smiled. "I must've beat up Gerard every day in Middle School."
Frank stifled a laugh. "You beat him up?"
Stephanie grabbed Gerard by the shoulders again. "Remember when I made your nose bleed?" She collapsed into giggles.
Gerard shoved her hands off him. "I'm just here to buy flowers, okay? They're for my wedding."
Stephanie's eyes widened.
"To a woman!" Gerard shouted.
The few other customers in the shop turned to look at him.
Stephanie put one arm around each man and led them to a corner of the shop where there were three large arrangements and a book titled Flowers Last Forever.
"Take a look at the wedding section," Stephanie said as she set the book down on a small table and opened it. "Do you have a color theme?"
"Ivory and tamarisk," Gerard said.
"Did your fiancée pick those out?"
Gerard shook his head. "She doesn't care about these things."
Stephanie smiled. "Is that because she's a lesbian?"
"I will punch you in the face." Gerard took a step forward, but Frank stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Remember that one time I knocked you unconscious?" Stephanie laughed.
Gerard covered his face with his hands. "Frank. Help."
Frank stepped in front of him and faced Stephanie. "Can you dye roses ivory and tamarisk?"
"Absolutely."
"Then we'll need a bouquet for the bride, and four for bridesmaids. Individual lapel flowers for Gerard and four groomsmen. Two corsages for the mothers, ten small bouquets for the ends of each row of chairs, and five freestanding arrangements."
Gerard tapped his shoulder. "Eliza has three bridesmaids: her sister, Jamia, and Alicia."
"Three bridesmaid bouquets," Frank told Stephanie.
"And I have six," Gerard continued. "You, Mikey, Ray, Bob, Brian, and Jack."
"Who the hell is Jack?" Frank asked with a frown.
"The bus driver."
"You're making our bus driver a groomsman?"
"Shut up. He's my friend."
Frank turned back to Stephanie. "Six groomsmen," he said. He opened his binder and spoke aloud as he wrote. "Find Gerard some new friends."
"I'll go write up the sales order," Stephanie said. She pointed at them and winked. "Don't run away now. This isn't the playground."
Gerard started after her, but Frank grabbed his arm again.
"If she makes you that upset, why don't we go to a different florist?" Frank suggested.
Gerard shook his head. "She's the best florist in the area. I'm not gonna cut corners when planning the best day of my life." Gerard picked up the Flowers Last Forever book and griped it tightly. "My wedding day is going to be perfect and beautiful if I have to kill everyone in the world."
Stephanie returned with a clipboard, and Frank filled out all of Gerard's personal information, including his credit card number.
"How do you have my credit card number?" Gerard asked, peering over his shoulder.
"Remember last tour when you asked me where I got so many nice hoodies? Now you know." He signed Gerard's name on the bottom of the form and handed it back to Stephanie.
"You're the reason I have no pants," Gerard hissed, hitting him on the shoulder with the flower book.
Stephanie tore a carbon copy off her clipboard and handed it to Frank. "We'll call you a month before the event to confirm." She put her hand on Gerard's shoulder. "And I hope your fiancée gets the green card she must desperately need."
Gerard lunged at her, but Frank managed to get between them, and pushed Gerard toward the door. Gerard tossed the book to the floor as they exited, shouting, "Flowers don't last forever, you demon woman!"
Since Gerard was so worked up, Frank suggested they go to the craft store in the mall next, since art supplies always calmed him down. When they walked into the store, the middle-aged woman at register 2 looked up and said, "Hi Gerard! I'll be right with you."
"Hi Sue!" he called back. "Take your time."
Frank looked over at him. "You're on a first-name basis with the craft store employees?"
Gerard rolled his eyes. "I'm an artist. I buy art supplies a lot."
Sue walked up to them. "Here for another bead kit?"
Frank's mouth dropped open.
"Sequins, actually," Gerard told her, and Sue led them to a far corner of the store.
"You play with beads?" Frank asked as they walked.
"My second cousin Tara is six," Gerard explained. "She's never heard of MCR, but she thinks I'm the coolest person in the world. You know why? Because I make the prettiest bead necklaces ever." He turned and glared at Frank. "Ever."
Frank held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I guess I better recognize."
"Damn straight," Gerard muttered.
After acquiring sequins, glass accents, and tinsel thread, they walked through the mall to hit the food court before leaving. Gerard stopped abruptly in front of one of the new stores, where the glass window proclaimed its name in swooping pink text: You Go Girlfriend! Through the window they could see cheap plastic jewelry, Bratz dolls, and a slutty schoolgirl outfit in a size that seemed meant for eight year-olds.
"This is what's wrong with America," Gerard said. "Look how sexuality and consumerism is marketed to young girls. It's despicable."
"Despicable," Frank echoed.
"I don't know how Eliza and Jamia became such amazing women surrounded by all these negative influences." Gerard's face hardened, his lips forming a tight line. "This is just another symptom of society's inherent misogyny. It's inexcusable, and it's disgusting."
"Disgusting," Frank repeated.
They stood in silence for a moment, staring at the store.
"Can I go in and buy fairy wings?" Frank asked softly.
"I think I see feather boas." Gerard grabbed Frank's hand and led him into the store.
The next stop was Howerton Castle, a restored castle and estate in Rockland County that hosted weddings and parties. The ground were beautiful, with gardens, waterfalls, and winding stone walls, and the castle itself was a stunning combination of modern amenities and medieval style. Gerard was in love. He stood in the entranceway, looked up at the chandelier, grabbed Frank by the shoulders, shook him, and squeaked out a high-pitched, "It's so perfect oh my god I'm going to die!"
Frank reached behind him to prevent himself from hitting the wall. "Dude, don't crush my wings."
A young woman walked up to greet them. She presented well, wearing heels, a designer suit, and what Gerard immediately recognized as a two-hundred-dollar dye job. "I'm Miranda," she said, holding her hand out to each of them in turn. "It's so good to meet you."
Gerard reached out and pulled a lock of hair out of her French twist. "This is nice," he said. "What do you condition with?"
Frank slapped his hand away. "It's nice to meet you, Miranda," he said. "We love Howerton Castle already."
"I probably shouldn't say this," Miranda said with an embarrassed smile. "But I'm a big fan."
"Hey, nothing wrong with that," Frank said with a grin. "Without people like you, Gerard would still be sitting in a cubicle somewhere, spanking his cartoon monkey."
Gerard shot him a dirty look. "Yeah, what about you?"
"I would still be cool," Frank said confidently.
Miranda handed them each a brochure. "Let's do a brief tour of the facility, and then we can have tea in the reception room and discuss the specifics of your event."
They walked through the spacious upstairs rooms, which Miranda explained could be used as staging areas for the wedding party. Downstairs there was a music room with a grand piano and an impressive array of amplifiers, a massive dining room with gorgeous wood furniture, a room with a sound system and dance floor, and a room with just antique couches and chairs. In each room Gerard squeed happily, until Frank had to point out that only dogs could hear him.
They ended up in the reception room, a large dining area with two glass walls facing the gardens. They sat around a table and were served tea by a man in a tuxedo. Miranda took out a binder and pen, and Frank rushed to take out his binder as well.
"Do you know how many guests you might have?" she asked.
Gerard frowned. "Well, there's Mikey." He began counting off people on his fingers. "Bob, Ray, Brian, Jack." He paused. "My mom. The Killers."
"Around a hundred," Frank said.
Gerard leaned his chair back a bit and smiled. "It'll be amazing. With a place like this, it's totally gonna be a fairy tale wedding."
"He's the princess," Frank said.
Gerard nodded. "I am."
"Let's talk about food," Miranda said. "Our deluxe four-course meal is one hundred dollars."
"That's reasonable," Gerard said.
Frank made a note in his binder. "She means per person."
Gerard's chair fell backwards.
"Oh my god!" Miranda stood up.
Frank waved her back to her seat. "It's okay. We're very injury-prone, but we bounce back quickly."
Gerard stood, brushed off his pants, checked his hair, and sat down again, this time holding on to Frank's waist to prevent further accidents. "So it's a hundred per person?"
"That's for dinner," Miranda said. "Then there are hors d'oeuvres, beverages, alcohol, gratuity, and equipment rental. I'm assuming you'll have live music?"
"I talked to Branden yesterday," Frank said to Gerard. "He said Rancid'll do it."
"Yeah, because there's nothing more romantic than ska," Gerard said. "We're not decided yet about the music," he told Miranda.
"Gerard is an ungrateful bitch," Frank muttered as he wrote in his binder.
Miranda handed Gerard a laminated sheet of paper. "This lists the various prices for all our meal combinations, with extras on the bottom. If you'd like to go through it now, I'll be happy to help total it up."
"That's all right," Gerard said as he looked over the list. "So this...this is everything?"
"Yes," Miranda said. "Except for the castle rental fee, which is one thousand, three hundred."
Gerard gripped the waist of Frank's jeans. "Per night?"
"Per hour."
Gerard closed his eyes.
"Sell out," Frank said as he wrote in his binder. He looked up at Miranda. "We should probably discuss this further at home. Could we call you tomorrow?"
"Absolutely," she said. "Just one last question. We like to know about the type of service in advance, so we can remove any potentially offensive religious icons from our décor." She put her pen to the page in front of her. "Are you having a Christian ceremony, or is it a more unconventional service, since it involves a same-sex union?"
Gerard opened his eyes and sighed. "I'm not marrying Frank."
"Oh!" Miranda blushed. "I'm so sorry, it's just -"
"Because we kiss on stage," Gerard finished for her. "It's not sexual. It's a social statement."
"I completely understand," Miranda said. "But -"
"Is it because of my wings?" Frank asked.
"No, no," Miranda assured him. "Your wings are lovely. It's just..." She bit down on her lower lip nervously. "Well, your hand is in his pants."
Gerard looked over at Frank's waist, where his hand had slid completely inside Frank's pants, and was resting on the front of his hip. Frank noticed at the same time, and looked equally surprised.
Gerard took his hand out of Frank's pants and placed it in his lap. "We're very good friends," he said softly.
Frank stood up. "Miranda, it was great to meet you. We'll be in touch."
Miranda shook his hand. "The pleasure was all mine." She reached out and shook Gerard's hand as well. "And congratulations on getting back together with Bert McCracken."
Once in the parking lot, Gerard stopped and pressed his fingers to his temples. "I'm planning the best day of my life, and it's making me fucking miserable. That's it. I'm relapsing."
Frank stopped walking. "What?"
Gerard shot him a confused look. "What?" His eyes widened with realization. "Oh! No, not like that. I've been trying to cut down on caffeine. I haven't had a latte in three days."
"Oh my god," Frank said. "No wonder you're such a bitch." He put his arm around Gerard and steered him toward the car. "Come on. Let's get you to a Starbucks."
Gerard put his face on Frank's shoulder and choked out a muffled, "Thank you, Frankie."
Back at his mother's house, Gerard sat on the couch with a venti café mocha in one hand and his cell phone in the other. Frank walked in with Gerard's suit jacket and their bag from the craft store.
"Mikey," Gerard said into the phone. "I can honestly tell you that I personally have not prank called Pete Wentz." He paused. "I can't speak for them. There's no telling what they do in their free time. Women are complex and mysterious creatures."
Frank took his cell phone out of his pocket, looked and the display, and held it out to Gerard. The text message read, "won 2k spent it on a red guitar. did shots made friends got arrested. c u 6pm. luv u -j"
Gerard smiled and went back to his phone call. "Look, I have important work to do tonight. Can you drop it? Why do you even care if Pete's freaking out over some -" Gerard's eyes widened. "Oh my god. You're the one in the sex tape!"
Frank covered his mouth to stifle a laugh.
Gerard stood up. "Fine. It was Eliza. Now hang up the phone and let us never, ever speak of this again. I'll give you call Thursday when we're back on tour." He hung up the phone before Mikey had a chance to respond.
Gerard sat down on the couch, and Frank handed him a threaded needle and a small plastic bag of sequins. Gerard had already marked out the patterns he wanted on the jacket, so they spread it across both their laps and began working on either side of the jacket, sewing on sequins in long, curved rows.
When Frank had finished the first row, he put the needle between his lips, tilted his head, and considered his work. "This is a bit much, man. Even for you."
Gerard was holding his end of the jacket close to his face and examining his sequins critically. "You're just jealous of how pretty I'm gonna look."
"True," Frank admitted.
"You know what I think about sometimes?" Gerard let the jacket fall into his lap. "I think about getting old. Not like, thirty-old, but really old. Eliza will still be funny and smart and beautiful, and I'll still be moody and weird. We'll have three kids, and I'll love them so much, even though one will be a total fuck-up. Hell, I'll probably love that one a little more, you know? One'll end up a musician, and one will rebel against me by being really into like, Nascar or some shit. And one Sunday after our big family dinner, we'll sit around having coffee, and we'll make the grandkids look at old photos. And one of them'll open the cover of the big white photo album, and he'll sigh and say, 'Wow, Grandpa. You could really rock a feather boa.'"
"I love the inside of your brain," Frank said without looking up from his sewing.
Gerard looked down at a loose sequin in the palm of his hand. "You and Jamia," he said. "You've been together for a long time."
"Oh, yeah. Since forever."
Gerard looked over at him. "Is it still as good now as it was in the beginning?"
"Nope." Frank pulled a piece of thread through the jacket and knotted it. "It's better."
"Really?"
Frank nodded. "It just gets better and better. Every day is more amazing. Every moment I think I can't possibly love her more, and then the next moment I do. I feel like one day I'm gonna be so happy I'll just explode. I don't know how it's possible for life with another person to be this good, but it's so fucking good." He looked over at Gerard with a slight smile on his face. "And every day it only gets better."
Gerard looked down at the jacket in his lap. "Do you think I have that?" he asked softly.
Frank went back to his stitching. "I'm not gonna get involved in your personal stuff, G."
"Oh, please," Gerard said. "Two weeks ago you grabbed my crotch on stage. I'd say we're close."
Frank was quiet, and finished the sequin he was working on slowly, looping the thread over it an extra time and knotting the thread carefully. He clipped off the end of the thread, looked up, and said, "Why are you getting married?"
Gerard just stared at him. "Because..." He waved one hand, as if that explained everything. "You know...."
"Are you doing it because you want a big party and a fancy outfit?"
"Of course not," Gerard said with a scowl.
"Are you doing it because you want a house and a picket fence and grandchildren?"
Gerard looked down at his hands.
Frank placed his scissors and needle down on the coffee table, and pushed the jacket off his lap. "Are you doing it because Mikey got married?" Frank asked, his voice soft. "And you miss him?"
Gerard put his hand to his forehead, blocking his eyes from view. "And you. You're next. And then Ray, and then..."
Frank reached out and pulled Gerard's arm down gently, so he could meet his gaze. "I'm never gonna leave you alone," he said. "That is both a promise and a threat."
Gerard smiled weakly. "I take it these are the wrong reasons to get married."
"They're not the right reasons."
Gerard opened his mouth, almost asking What are the right reasons?, but he had a feeling that him not knowing the answer was an answer itself.
Frank's phone chirped softly. He picked it up and smiled when he saw the caller ID. "Hey sweets." He laughed. "You dork. No problem. I'll be right there." He hung up. "She forgot her keys." He stood up. "I gotta go, but I'll come back. We'll hang out."
Gerard stood up as well. "Don't worry about it."
"You sure you're okay?"
"I have to figure stuff out, talk to Eliza, you know."
"Call me if you need anything?"
Gerard nodded. "Thanks for everything today. I mean...you were a really good friend."
Frank pulled him into a hug. "That's my job," he said. He released Gerard and moved to leave the room.
"Hey Frank?"
Frank turned around.
Gerard smiled, and his eyes flickered to the ground for a moment. "So hey, if your wife ever leaves you, will you run away with me to a cabin in the woods where we'll write music, eat Pop Tarts, and experiment with our sexuality?"
Frank took a step forward and kissed him briefly on the lips. "I thought that was the plan all along," he said. He turned and headed for the front door. "See ya' next week on the bus!" he called out.
"See ya!" Gerard replied, but the door had already closed.
Gerard gathered up the craft store supplies and put them in the closet in the spare bedroom where his mother kept her sewing box. He went to the kitchen, rinsed off the coffee cups from the night before, and put them in the dishwasher. Since it had been just him in the house for the past few days, the only things in the dishwasher were cups and spoons. He took a few clean plates out of the cabinet and put them on the bottom rack, that way his mother would think he'd been eating something other than take-out.
He closed the dishwasher, turned off the overhead light, and stood in the middle of the room. It wasn't completely dark outside, so he could still see, but the appliances, the line of the counter, and the dark edges of the cabinets looked like outlines, like someone's drawing of what a kitchen should look like. Through his socks the tile felt too solid, like it was reality and he was something soft and transient, a visitor in this house he's lived in all his life, sketching rooms that could never really be his.
He went to the living room, folded his sequined jacket, walked down to the basement, and hid it in the furthest corner of his closet.
Frank's notes.
