Frerard Oneshots

The Locker Room - Frerard

***smut***

***Gerards POV***

"Alright boys, get changed. I'll see you all tomorrow." Coach Mullins says, shooing us off to the locker room.

I take off my red pinny, and put it in the basket of assorted colored ones, before heading to the locker room, along with everyone else. I swing the door open, and head towards my locker at the back of the large room. I bump into Danny, one of the jocks, by accident, and he slams me into a nearby locker. I close my eyes.

"Watch where you're going, Getard." He growls. The guys around him laugh at the little nickname. It doesn't affect me much. Everyone calls me it. Danny let's me go, and I scramble to the end of the room, quickly unlocking my locker. I grab my change of clothes; black skinny jeans, a plain black shirt, and a sweater. I just want to leave before anybody else can get to me.

I put my clothes on a nearby bench, and take out my gym bag, before securing my locker back up.

I turn around, and see all the boys filing out of the rooms. "Frank? You coming?" Ray, yet another jock, yells. I hear shuffling. "Yeah, yeah, I'll catch up." A voice yells.

Oh god. Frank is in here with me? I've liked him for, God knows how long. I just have to stay silent, and not make a complete fool of myself.

I turn back around, removing my top in the process. Before I take off my shorts, I look behind me once more. I see him standing there. Frank Iero. He is standing there, staring at me. Why must he be so gorgeous?
I look away, and lock my thumbs underneath my shorts elastic waist. I sigh, and turn back around, just to see Frank still standing there, staring at me intently.

"Do you want to not look at me while I change?" I ask, not meaning to put so much attitude into my voice. I immediately regret doing so.

Frank scoffs, and walks towards me, cracking his knuckles. I gulp. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid...' I scold myself.

"Watch your fucking tone of voice while talking to me." He growls, coming closer. All I could do is nod. I scratch the back of my head, as he gets closer and closer. "How has your day been? Good?" He asks. I nod, and bite my lip.

"You're cute." He says. He stops a foot in front of me, and I feel so confused. I'm cute?

I look down at my black converse, and sit on the bench, beginning to untie them. "I have to get changed." I whisper. "Then get changed." Frank says, like it was obvious. "But, you're-"

"I know I'm here." Frank cuts me off. "Get changed. I don't mind."

I nod, and kick off my shoes. I feel grateful that I chose to wear boxers underneath my shorts today. I usually don't.

I get up quickly, slide my shorts down, and sit back on the bench, taking them all the way off. "Why are you waiting for me?" I ask. "I'm not." Frank says. "What are you doing then?" I ask, watching my words carefully. I don't want to get beat up today.

"I'm watching you." Frank says, eyes scanning my bare torso. I look down at it, and notice a cut on my hip is showing. I pull my boxers up quickly. "What was that?" Frank asks, and reaches for my hipbone.

I grab his wrist. "Fuck off!" I blurt out in a yell.
Frank shakes his wrist from my grasp. He stares at me, and grabs my arm, yanking my skinny figure off of the bench. I yelp, and my body collides with his. He pushes me against my locker, and I don't dare to say a word.

I would be lying if I said that wasn't hot.

He stares at me, long and hard. For a split second, his eyes flickered to my lips, and then back up to my eyes. "Fucking hell." He mutters, and presses his lips against mine.