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“You’re not serious.”
“I am 100% serious, Frank.”
“There aren’t enough hours in the day. It’s 10am, there are literally not enough hours in a day-”
“Well we can try!”
“Gerard-”
“We did the Halloween franchise on your birthday last year!”
Okay, that’s a good point. They did do that. But Frank looked it up and it’s like 21 hours, which is less than a full day. He’s pretty sure the entirety of Star Wars is way longer than that. Especially because Gerard won’t just want to watch all nine episodes (or however many episodes there are now).
No, he’ll want to watch the Christmas specials and the spin-offs, and the animated variations and all the TV series. He’ll want to consume everything he has access to.
And Frank will let him, because he’s decked out in a new themed pajama set and he is quite literally extending a matching one in Frank’s direction.
“You’re so fucking lucky I love you,” the smaller man grumbles, snatching the clothes from his boyfriend with a roll of his eyes.
“You say that like you don’t also love Star Wars,” Gerard grins at him. “Like we didn’t line up at midnight for the entire last trilogy.”
Frank huffs as he pushes himself up off the couch. He can’t very well deny that, because they totally did, and it had been awesome.
“The originals are still better,” he murmurs, stretching his arms up over his head.
Gerard does the same thing he always does and slides his hands along the tattooed skin that’s been exposed. He pulls Frank in, winding arms around his waist, and places a kiss against his cheek before ducking his head to follow the line of his jaw and the column of his throat.
The press of lips is warm, and Frank closes his eyes with a long sigh. Gerard can have anything he wants if he’ll just keep lavishing his affections against the ink ladened skin of his boyfriend’s neck.
“We’re doing them in chronological order.”
Except that. He can have anything except that.
Frank makes a big show of pushing Gerard away from him with a playful scowl.
“You are the worst,” he says, slapping at his boyfriend with the pajamas in his hands. “You fucking owe me.”
“You’re full of shit.” Gerard is still wearing that cheeky little grin as he moves to take Frank’s place on the couch and snatch up the controller from the coffee table. “You’re not too cool for school, Frank Iero, I know the way you feel about Harrison Ford.”
“The same way you feel about Mark Hamill,” Frank teases, walking backwards down the hall to their room. “You have to order pizza,” he adds. “And make popcorn.”
Gerard gives him a wink and blows a kiss in his direction as he gets the TV set up. “Anything for you, angel.”
Frank leaves the room to the start up sounds of their Xbox, and goes to change into his new clothes. To Gerard’s credit, they are undeniably comfy. It may be a bit too hot in May for long sleeves, but the fabric is soft, and they can always turn the AC down until it’s appropriately cool enough for both their outfits and the themed blanket that lives on their couch year round.
There is no denying that they’re both massive nerds. Fuck, Frank even got into DnD thanks to his boyfriend, but Star Wars was something they’ve always both shared a love for. They’ve just never tried to watch all nine films in one sitting, and even now, there is no fucking way they’re going to manage it. According to their Google Home, it takes 25 hours to watch the entire series start to finish, and if Gerard wanted to get even close to that, they’d have needed to start way earlier.
They’ll get through as much as they can, Frank figures. They’ll have fun yelling at the TV and jabbering to each other about their favorite scenes. Frank will once again bring up the debate of whether either of them would be a Sith or a Jedi, and Gerard will once again bring up all sorts of internal lore about the franchise and insist that he would be a grey Jedi, and Frank will tell him he’s probably right because Gerard has far too many worldly attachments. Gerard will remind him that he is not even remotely any better, and he’ll pinch the webbing of both of Frank’s hands to remind him of his Hopeless Romantic tattoos.
In all reality, they are both far too in love with each other to even consider the prospect of being part of the Jedi Order.
“I’d end up being Anakin if they tried to take you away from me,” Frank muses hours later when they’ve eaten their pizza and have made it to Revenge of the Sith.
Gerard shakes his head firmly. “Nah,” he says confidently. “You’d just denounce The Order and go live in a swamp somewhere. Like Yoda.”
Frank chuckles and runs his fingers through the other man’s hair fondly. “My point is that I definitely couldn’t deal with the whole ‘no lovers allowed’ thing, so I’d just go rogue.”
“Rogue and Sith are not the same thing,” Gerard insists, craning his neck to look up at his boyfriend.
They’ve managed to get themselves into one of their favorite positions. Frank is nestled into the corner of their sectional couch with his legs outstretched, and Gerard is laying between them with a pillow propped up against Frank’s stomach where he can snuggle in accordingly. The AC has been set low, giving them every reason to pull their favorite fleece blanket over their bodies, and Gerard is, at present, absently flapping the wings of the stuffed bat that Frank brought out to ‘watch with them’ (Mortimer’s favorite is Episode II, and he’s even got his own tiny little doll-sized shirt to match the pair of them. It’s family movie day. It’s mandatory.)
They are engaging in prime cuddles, as Gerard always says.
“You’re right, they’re not the same thing,” Frank agrees. “But-”
“But,” Gerard cuts him off, rolling to his side to sling an arm over one of Frank’s legs. “Your sense of justice is way too strong for you to be a Sith. End of discussion.”
Frank blows a raspberry at him, but he’s smiling. Gerard is not wrong. He never is. But the argument is half the fun.
“You don’t think I could pull off Order 66?”
“Under literally no circumstances ever.”
“You’re no fun,” Frank grumps, tugging just slightly at Gerard’s hair. “I at least want a red lightsaber, then.”
Gerard takes the moment to roll all the way over now, worming his arms around Frank’s waist as he rests his chin on the pillow separating them. “You can have whatever color lightsaber you want,” he says in a coo that makes Frank roll his eyes. “I’ll get you a custom one like mine.”
“You’ve been saying that for like three years,” Frank laughs, pushing mousy brown hair off of Gerard’s forehead so he can see him properly.
“If you ever mentioned it past May the Fourth, I would actually follow through,” Gerard points out, which is totally fair. Frank has a habit of saying he wants a lightsaber every year and then immediately forgetting when The Season is over.
This year, though…
“Maybe you could get me one and we could be nerds and dress up for Comic Con,” Frank suggests and then nearly chokes on his spit as he laughs, because Gerard very suddenly lets go of the smaller man’s waist in favor of very firmly planting his hands on the couch and lifting himself up to stare directly into Frank’s eyes.
“Don’t fuck with me,” he says seriously. “Don’t play with my heart like that, Frank, it’s cruel.”
Frank grins at him, still laughing as he moves the pillow from in front of him and sits up properly on the couch himself. “I’m not,” he says with a shrug. “I’d be willing to be a total loser nerd with you if you wanted.”
Gerard kissing him is unexpected, but it probably shouldn’t be. Naturally the response to being half insulted is to kiss your boyfriend, because why wouldn’t it be?
The kiss is filled with smiles and Frank laughing softly as he reaches to cradle Gerard’s face between both of his hands. The other man gets up on his knees to straddle the legs beneath him before scooting up on the couch until he can deposit himself directly into Frank’s waiting lap.
For a while (probably much longer than necessary), they sit on the couch with their lips locked together and the sound of the Clone Wars raging on through the speakers of their sound system.
Their hands wander lazily, slipping under soft cotton fabric, touching warm skin. Quiet moans join the mix of noise, and eventually when they part, they’re both a bit out of breath, even though things haven’t gotten too far out of hand.
“What if I dressed up in Leia’s bikini?” Gerard asks with a grin, running both of his hands through Frank’s hair, and the smaller man barks out a laugh that feels too loud within their little bubble.
“You’d look gorgeous on a beach,” he teases, rubbing circles into Gerard’s skin with his thumbs. “Gonna be honest, though, as much as I hate to say it, I don’t think you could compete with Carrie Fisher.”
“No one competes with Carrie Fisher,” Gerard says, completely deadpanned, and then cracks a smile when Frank draws him in for another kiss.
“Mm,” Frank agrees. “Besides, like- she’s gorgeous, but that entire plot point is about her being held as a slave, so it’s really not all that great if you think about it as a whole.”
He feels Gerard smile spread against his lips. “And that is why you couldn’t be a Sith Lord.”
“You’re fucking insufferable,” Frank laughs, digging his fingers into his boyfriend’s sides until it elicits a delighted giggle. “You know that?”
“I do,” Gerard says with all the fondness in the world laced between the words. “You tell me that a lot.”
“Good,” Frank laughs softly. “Someone has to.”
Gerard kisses him again, snaking his arms around Frank’s neck and draping them over his shoulders. Frank works his own around the other man’s waist and pulls him just a few inches closer, until he can lean his head back against the couch as Gerard settles over his hips.
They fall once more into quiet breaths and the tiniest gasps of air. Frank loves these moments. When it’s just the pair of them and the rest of the world melts away.
Is Anakin Skywalker attempting to murder his beloved mentor while his wife goes into premature labor particularly sexy or romantic? No. But it’s Star Wars day, and they’re just two men on their couch watching a movie they’ve seen more than a dozen times even just within the span of their relationship. There’s no need to pay attention, and there’s no need to rush. There is no frenzied shedding of clothes, or desperate ‘I need you right now or I’ll die’ kisses.
It’s just Frank and Gerard in the cozy living room of their little apartment, kissing and soaking in the rays of the sun pouring in through the window. It’s a sweet and tender moment, broken up only by the absolute cheesiest of confessions.
Gerard pulls back, just enough to rest their foreheads together, and Frank knows he’s smiling just by the sound of his voice.
“Hey, Frankie?” he says quietly.
“Mhmm,” Frank nods, tilting his head for another sneaky kiss that brings out a bemused sort of chuckle from the man on top of him.
“I love you,” Gerard says, sifting fingers through the back of Frank’s hair in a slow, placid pattern.
Frank grins, sliding his hands all the way up Gerard’s back so that he can pull his boyfriend tight against his chest, keeping him safe and secure within the circle of his arms. He moves to kiss him again, and again, and two more times until Gerard is giggling again, and then pulls back to smile up at him.
“I know.”