The best of frerard smut

a story about two boys (hope is all we've got)

All credit goes to endlessnighttimesky on ao3

Weird title but oh well it's not my story

Frank just wants to go home. He wants to go home, take Sweet Pea for a walk and then crawl beneath the warm covers of his bed and just sleep.

Okay, so his bed will probably be cold, and Sweet Pea has most likely already fallen asleep and won't be up for anything remotely similar to a walk, but that doesn't stop Frank from wanting to join her.

His back is hurting, and his ass even more so, and his lungs are aching in that way they always do when the weather goes from blisteringly hot to freezing cold in less than a week. He simply doesn't fancy the idea of standing in a street corner until four in the morning, only to be picked up by some sleazy, rich guy with daddy issues he feels he can only solve by fucking Frank until he's sore.

That's why Frank is lucky he's got Pete, because unlike Frank, Pete actually keeps track of how much money Frank makes, which results in him always knowing when Frank can afford to turn down a client.

"Not tonight," Pete says when Frank walks into his office with a pleading look on his face. "Sorry, man, but if you wanna keep feeding that dog, you should stay out for a few more hours."

Frank scowls and slumps into the chair in front of Pete's desk. "I'll go in a few minutes," he mutters, sinking lower in the chair and pulling his hoodie over his head. Give him enough time, he could probably fall asleep there.

"Sure," Pete says, shooting Frank a sympathetic smile before he goes to pick up the ringing phone. Frank can't stop himself from returning it, because with Pete it's always should, never have to, and Frank doesn't know how to describe how much he loves that about Pete. All he knows is that he'd probably cry if Pete would ever go out of business.

Frank listens sleepily to Pete taking calls for a few minutes, but then Pete kicks his foot under the desk, and he forces himself to straighten his position in the chair. He looks up at Pete, who's still got the phone pressed to his ear, but he's glancing at it and making hand gestures that Frank now knows means that Pete's got a client for him.

"Where?" Frank asks as soon as Pete hangs up.

"The Hilton," Pete answers with a smirk, knowing he pretty much just made Frank's day.

"Sweet," Frank says. He can still feel the fatigue at the back of his mind, but just the thought of being fucked into a hotel bed instead of the backseat of a dingy Honda is enough to make him feel a little more awake.

"What?" he asks incredulously, when he sees Pete's smile falter slightly.

"It's an all-nighter," Pete says, and okay, so Frank maybe wasn't up for that originally, but hey, hotel beds. He can sacrifice himself.

"I'll take it," Frank says, trying to focus on the wad of bills he'll walk home with tomorrow, instead of the sickly feeling in his stomach he always gets after he spends an entire night with someone he'll probably never meet again.

Pete looks at him for a while more, silently asking if Frank's sure about this.

"You said I needed the money, right?" Frank asks, eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Yeah," Pete admits, and it's with resignation he hands Frank a Post-It with all the details.

"I'll be back tomorrow with the cash," Frank says as he heads out.

"Be sure to sleep first!" Pete calls after him. Frank does what he hopes is a reassuring hand gesture in his direction.

When he gets out onto the street, it's raining, but Frank doesn't let it ruin his mood. Okay, so maybe there wasn't much of a mood to ruin, but he can practically feel the king size mattress against his back, and that's enough to keep him going.