Title: A Show For the Visitors
Author: Squally_BunBun
Pairing: Forrester/TV's Frank
Genre: Failed humor
Rating: PG-13 for a hand down the pants for a total of five seconds.
Notes: Frank and Clayton do so love to terrorize the folks who come to the door.
Note: This isn't an attack on Scientology. If you feel like it could be, replace the aforementioned religion with another religion of your choice and go nuts. It works for a good number of them, I would think.

***

"Frank, get the door!"

Frank whistled merrily to himself as he shuffled to the door, pulling it open. On the other side of the door were three very happy-looking people, dressed in rather nice clothing and holding pamphlets.

'This cannot end well,' decided Frank. Regardless, he smiled. "Hi, there."

"Many greetings," said the only woman in the group. Her hair was tied back into a tight bun, she wore an all-black business suit, and she looked up at Frank through thick, square-framed, black glasses. "We're from the church of Scientology."

"Hey, I didn't know you people go door to door," said Frank, amused.

"It doesn't matter," said the woman decisively. "Do you live with anybody?"

"Yeah, I'll get him." Frank turned into the house and cupped his mouth. "Clay? It's the Scientologists. I think they're looking for us to convert or something."

"I'll be right there," replied Forrester from somewhere in the house.

One of the men raised an eyebrow at Frank. "Roommate?" he asked. When Frank turned back to regard him, the sun glinting off of the man's bald head almost hurt his eyes.

"You might say that," said Frank sheepishly.

"Well, if you don't mind, we'd like to get down to business," said the other man, fiddling with the cuffs of his tweed jacket. "The Church of Scientology needs your contribution." Frank smiled to himself as the man twitched. He kind of reminded him of Torgo.

"Let me explain," said the woman, opening up a pamphlet.

As she began to get into the philosophies that had been previously presented by the great L. Ron Hubbard, Forrester sidled up beside Frank, slipping his arms around Frank's waist and nipping at his earlobe. Frank jumped lightly and teasingly batted at Forrester.

"Come on, Clay, we have company," he said, smiling.

"I don't see why that should stop me," replied Forrester matter-of-factly, nuzzling a spot behind Frank's ear that made him shiver.

The guests did not look pleased with what they were seeing. Frank was trying to decide whether they were more offended by the show that Forrester was giivng them or the fact that Frank had no mind to stop it, whatsoever, when the woman interruted her little sermon to protest. "Excuse me," she snapped, "but we find that very offensive."

"What?" Forrester sounded rather indignant.

"Wasn't Scientology supposed to be more tolerant of this lifestyle?" added Frank.

"We most certainly are not!" gasped the woman. "The Church clearly says that any gays in our congregation must remain celibate if they want to remain in the religion!"

"You still let them into the faith," pointed out Forrester. "And one of your spokewomen once said that your religion hasn't taken an official poisiton on--"

"Scientology may no longer be strictly against homosexuality," interjected the woman, "but I am, and I would kindly ask that you do not continue this disgusting display of affection."

"So I guess doing this is out of the question, then?" retorted Forrester, smirking devilishly, nipping at Frank's earlobe once again, and tucking his hand into the front of Frank's pants. Before Frank could marvel at the gutsy move, or even try to breathe for that matter, the woman had turned the group around and was hurrying down the walk. Even though she made great pains not to turn around, Frank was certain that her face was beet red.

"Don't be a stranger!" bid Forrester ironically before quickly shutting the door and pulling his hand from Frank's pants. He grinned at Frank, sliding his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. "I love doing that," he said triumphantly. After what he said had sunk in, he added, "terrorizing the visitors, I mean, not the... uh..."

Frank spared him the exlanation. "You know, Clay, people usually pretend they're normal when they answer the door," said Frank, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" asked Forrester, waving a hand dismissively. "Now then, back to the research." As he walked away, he explained, "I think I've found the perfect experiment for my boobies in the satellite. Care to join me?"

"Only if you carry me into the living room."

Forrester sighed in exasperation. "Frank, I told you, you're getting too big for that. Now are you coming or not?"

With a pout, Frank begrudingly followed Forrester into the living room, impersonating him under his breath.

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