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Title: The world can't protect you.
Author:
Pairing:Frank/Gerard, Mikey/Jared, Ray/Bob
Rating:PG-13 (so far)
POV: Third Person
Summary: This is going to sound weird, but here goes.
Gerard is the world's campest assassin, but when he finds himself suddenly teamed up with Frank, he finds his world may change.
Beta: The awesome
Disclaimer: The moon is made of cheese
Authors Note comments are love; It's been ages since i updated, and i'm SORRY
more under the cut
Chapter 1
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Two months later
Gerard, Mikey, Simon and Jared sat companionably around a table of a small restaurant called The View. Simon had become an accepted member of their group, and though no one had seen fit to inform him of their true jobs, on the whole he was approved of. As Mikey remarked to Gerard
“It’s nice to see you growing up and settling down.” Gerard had laughed and replied
“What are you? Our mother? I’m older than you, man!”
Gerard was happy.
His mind wandered pleasantly as he sat there, allowing the conversation to wash over him, his anchor the warm grip of Simon’s hand on his. Eventually, after he had mused on the colour scheme of the room, (dark, night time red) and then the shoes of the people two tables across (stilettos, heels, black flats, man shoes, man shoes) his thoughts stumbled onto the one matter that threatened to ruin his relationship- Bob. His time off was almost certainly coming to an end- it was a miracle it hadn’t already- and he still had no idea how to explain a sudden and possibly prolonged absence, and nor did he think he could tell Simon the truth. At least, not yet. He supposed he expected a call to come through some time in the next week.
A buzzing sound broke into his consciousness, and he looked up in time to see Mikey checking a caller ID and getting up to answer it. He glanced at Jared who shrugged and resumed his conversation with Simon.
When the meal was over, Mikey excused himself and Jared, feigning tiredness. He spoke to Gerard as they collected their coats.
“That was Bob. I have to go in to see him some time this week, and bring both you and Frank. I told him I had no idea where Frank was, or how to contact him, and so Bob said he’d handle it, and to bring Jared instead. Find some way of explaining it to Simon, yeah?”
Gerard opened his mouth to reply, but Mikey had already turned back. Simon took Gerard’s hand again, kissed him for well over ten seconds (despite Jared’s good natured mutters of “Get a room!”) and smiled at him contentedly.
“I heard there’s a bar on the other side of town that’s supposed to be awesome. You think we should check it out?”
“Sure”
*
Frank worked most nights, and slept uneasily during the day. He tried to put that down to the daylight, and not the thoughts that swirled around in his head. Since the occurrence of what Frank liked to think of only as “The Incident” he had found a couple of other girls, both dark haired, and one with a way of crooking her mouth to one side when amused. Frank couldn’t remember either of their names.
Tonight had started like any other; he’d served beers, and even a couple of cocktails he’d learned how to make just last week. Around 11 a larger group of new people came in then split off into their friendship circles. A couple approached the bar. The slightly taller, brown haired guy leaned down, kissed his dark haired companion and said
“I’ll go nab us a table, ok baby?”
The shorter guy- Gerard- turned, kissed him back and replied
“Sure, hun. I’ll get you a Stella”
As Simon walked away Gerard noticed Frank behind the bar, and stopped him shock. It was a second or two before he regained his composure.
“Frank” he said coolly, remembering the last time they spoke. “Long time no see. You got a job?”
“You got a boyfriend?”
“Why’d that matter to you?”
“It doesn’t. I was just being polite. What can I get you?” Frank kept his voice cold and his eyes down. Damn windows to the soul.
“Yeah, actually, I’ll have a Stella, and a Peroni, please. Heard from Bob yet?”
Frank fumbled with the fridge door.
“No. How long’ve you guys been together?”
“A couple of months. His name’s Simon, and he’s much nicer than the last guy I met” replied Gerard with quiet emphasis, trying to ignore the knotting feeling in his stomach. Frank blanched slightly as the words hit home. He fastened his hands tightly around the bottle necks in case he dropped them, and placed them on the bar, waiting while Gerard gave him the money.
“Until Bob calls, then” said Gerard as he turned and walked back towards Simon.
Frank hurried past Pete towards the staff exit.
“I’m taking my break now”
“Hey, you’re not due one for-” Pete registered Frank’s ashen features and nodded. “Okay, but be quick”
Frank stumbled past him, out into the back alley, the image of Gerard kissing Simon replaying itself over and over in his mind’s eye
“Simon’s a stupid name anyway.” He muttered, trying to phrase other words, words that would express his emotions but nothing came. It was so fucking unfair. He shook a cigarette from the pack, lit it and sighed. There was nothing like nicotine for calming the old nerves. Half the smoke gone, Frank tried to think rationally about the whole thing; He’d just walk back in there, head held high, punch Simon in his annoyingly-perfect face (and hopefully break his annoyingly-perfect nose), say something suitably impressive (though he wasn’t quite sure what), grab Gerard and kiss him silly.
The fag guttered and Frank sighed the last of the smoke out of his nose. Somehow, he didn’t think that would solve his problems. He turned, went back inside told Pete he had a migraine, and asked to go home.
“Sure, just make sure you’re better for tomorrow”
Frank did go home, but once there he proceeded to drink a little over half the vodka on the sideboard and fell into a stupor-like, dreamless sleep.
*
Gerard went home with Simon several hours later, and managed to forget about seeing Frank for several intense minutes, but as his consciousness flooded back and his heartbeat slowed he knew he had to do something, anything about how he felt. He knew he should want Simon; Simon was perfect, kind, considerate and honest. But Gerard was not those things, and though Simon was the kind of guy everyone wanted Gerard didn’t want him; didn’t deserve him. Gerard wanted Frank. He lay awake, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, Simon’s arm slung possessively across his chest, though he’d long been asleep.
Gerard must have slept himself, because the next thing he knew he was woken by his phone ringing loudly. He cursed and reached for it while Simon raised his head and looked blearily at him.
Gerard glanced at the caller
It was Bob. Gerard groaned, flipped it open and stumbled out of bed, treading heavily as he crossed into the next room.
“Gerard?” clarified Bob at the other end of the line.
“Who else?” mumbled Gerard irritably. Not a morning person didn’t quite cover it.
“Good. Get yourself over to the office in one hour.”
“One hour? But Bob, I’m right across town; it’ll take me that long to get there!”
“Then you’d better leave now,” replied Bob smoothly before hanging up. Gerard mumbled angrily as he stepped back through. Simon had propped himself up on one elbow.
“Babe?” he enquired gently as Gerard hurried to get dressed.
“It was work, hun, I gotta go.” Simon looked downcast, so Gerard pulled his t-shirt over his head and walked over, giving him a quick kiss. “I’ll be back in three hours, max.”
“But I’ll be working by then,” pouted Simon.
“Oh. We’ll see each other tonight then, I guess.” Gerard flashed him a smile as he ran out the door.
Bob was waiting for him when he arrived.
“You took your time,” he observed coolly.
“What, no niceties?” demanded Gerard.
“I’m sending you to
“What? When?”
“Tomorrow”
“What? I can’t just up and leave; I have a boyfriend now, and there’s no way I can hide this absence from him, or come up with a cover in that time. Make someone else go”
“There is no one else available. It’s you or no-one.”
“Then no-one will go”
“I’ll hurt Mikey” threatened Bob quietly.
“You’ll what?”
“You heard me. If that’s what it takes to make you go then that’s what I’ll do.”
“But you like Mikes!”
“Yes, but I like liberty more”
“What the hell do you even mean?”
“Our government, in its infinite wisdom wants somebody dead, with no possible connection to them; they hired me to get it done, and fast.”
“But if they- wait, they know about all this?” Gerard gestured expansively, “Why aren’t we all rotting in a cell somewhere?”
“Because ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ ” quoted Bob, “I’ll take people down for them, and I won’t accept a contract on anyone they want alive. At least; not when they know it’s me.” Bob broke off and smiled wolfishly; Gerard repressed a shiver, reminded that Bob really was a cold hearted bastard beneath his brusque exterior. “And so, we co-exist, peacefully for the most part, and it’s not like the CIA at large know about us; they would have to take notice then; I’m just another nameless, faceless asset in some overworked suit’s phonebook.”
“Oh. That still doesn’t solve my problem. What do I tell Simon?”
“Tell him whatever you want; make something up. It’s what I pay you for isn’t it?”
“Actually, it isn’t…”
“You’re target’s a Russian minister, by the name of Alexander Kalus. He’s been selling arms to American enemies, mainly in the
“Frank? Why’s he coming?”
“Because I said so. Be back here in two hours.”
*
Frank received his call moments after Gerard had slammed out of Bob’s office in a fit of temper.
“…Yeah?”
“Frank, be at my office in an hour and a half.”
“Bob- It’s you- uh, yeah, I’ll be there,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his eyes. The line went dead, and with a sigh, Frank rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
110 minutes later, panicking about his lateness and slightly out of breath, Frank arrived outside Bob’s office. He knocked nervously.
“Come in!” barked a voice. Frank took a breath and entered.
“Sit down”
Frank settled himself uneasily into one of the chairs before the desk, stuck once again by its presence. “How’s you’re Russian?” Bob enquired.
“It’s, um, passable. I can make myself understood, but I can’t pass for a native.”
“That’s fine. On you’re visa it say’s you’re a tourist”
“Oh”
Bob checked his watch and frowned.
“Gerard will be here in about ten minutes”
“G-Gerard?” stuttered Frank. “Is he coming with me?”
“Of course,” replied Bob shortly. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, broken what seemed like an age later by Gerard banging the door open again. He faltered a second in the door way, before attempting his usual dismissive manner.
“How nice to see you here, Frank” he began sarcastically.
“As I’m sure you’re both aware by now” started Bob authoritatively, cutting off any further words, “I’m sending you both to
They both nodded and Gerard asked
“Same plane?”
“Yes; you two are old friends, Gerard, you’re showing Frank where you grew up. Consequently, the hotel is of a lower standard than last time, it’s more in fitting with your stories. I’ll give you the address later.” He opened a drawer, and produced a handful of papers that he pushed across the table. Gerard and Frank both reached out for them at the same time and bumped hands. Frank withdrew his as though it had been electrocuted. Bob raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
*
Gerard sat the rest of the day in a Starbucks, trying to figure out what to do about Simon. It didn’t seem right, somehow, to stay with him, not now he knew how strongly he felt for Frank, but he wasn’t too sure he could see himself finishing it either. That seemed…. Harsh. Simon would think Gerard had been messing with him.
Gerard groaned and drained his coffee, debating whether to get another. How was he going to explain this sudden absence? At least if they broke up he wouldn’t have to figure that out. Gerard shook his head, stood up, leaving a couple of dollars tip and left, resolving that they’d have to break up sooner or later, what with his feelings for Frank, and this was better than letting their relationship get more serious.
Simon was waiting for him when he got back. His smile when he saw Gerard was almost enough to stop him continuing. Almost.
“Babe,” said Gerard gently “I think we need to talk” Gerard hated himself as he saw Simon’s smile slowly fade. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself and continued. “I’m just- I’m not sure we feel the same way about each other.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, before I met you, there was this guy-”
“Oh, there was, was there?” interrupted Simon angrily
“Not like that, well, we were once, but it was over before by the time I met you, and I liked you… I like you- and I thought I was over him, but I saw him again recently, and I still have feelings for him, really strong feelings, and I didn’t want to lie to you…” he faltered, hearing how his words sounded. Simon was looking at him as a drowning man eyes the rescue rope, just out of reach.
“But don't you feel anything for me at all? These last two months have been amazing. I thought that you felt as strongly about me as I do about you. Couldn’t we just see how it goes?” he pleaded, tears welling in his eyes. Gerard shook his head sadly.
“I’m sorry, really and truly, you’ve been so good to me, and you’re far and away the nicest boyfriend I ever had. You don’t deserve me, you deserve someone so much better, and one day you’ll find him and you’ll be very happy.”
“But I want you,” whispered Simon, staring at the clenched hands in his lap, a tear trickling down his cheek. Something in his tone of voice broke Gerard’s heart a little, and he wanted to snatch the words back, and take Simon in his arms. Instead he fell silent, swallowed and said,
“I guess I’ll see you around,” the hollow emptiness of these words only becoming apparent after he’d said them.
I found it, I found it!
Right, so, this took far longer than it should’ve to be updated, but I’ve been really busy with Christmas and exams and now coursework, and I’ve been out of the country for a week.
However, at long, long last, I’ve got it updated, and I’ve got some more up my sleeve, but that’ll depend on how fast I can find it, and get it typed.
I love you all!
Title: The world can't protect you.
Author:
Pairing:Frank/Gerard, Mikey/Jared, Ray/Bob
Rating:PG-13 (so far)
POV: Third Person
Summary: This is going to sound weird, but here goes.
Gerard is the world's campest assassin, but when he finds himself suddenly teamed up with Frank, he finds his world may change.
Beta: The awesome
Disclaimer: The moon is made of cheese
Authors Note comments are love; It's been ages since i updated, and i'm SORRY
more under the cut
Chapter 1
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Frank flicked idly through the ads in the paper. He figured he should get a job, just to assuage the boredom that was now building. He sighed, slumped back slightly in his chair and took another sip from his Starbucks coffee.
Something caught his eye. He leaned forward, then slumped back in annoyance. Shop work.
“Damn,” muttered Frank, sipping again. He glanced over at the next page and stopped.
Bar staff required. Must be willing to work Friday and Saturday nights. Hard-working, enthusiastic people welcome. No experience necessary. Training provided. Frank hummed interestedly, noting the number down on his napkin before continuing to look.
*
He ended up calling the number later that day. After six rings, an out of breath sounding man answered.
“Yeah?”
“Um, hey. I’m calling about the job?”
“Oh yeah. It’s a good thing you called actually. We’re really short staffed at the moment. We’ve just upgraded to a better building, and no one thought about needing more staff to run it. You wanna drop by…say…tomorrow?”
“Sure. What time?”
“7, 7:30-ish? Bring your résumé, though I don’t think you’ll need it. What did you say your name was?”
“It’s Frank. Frank Iero. I’ll be there at half past, thanks”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
Click.
*
Frank drew up his résumé, filling the gaps in which he worked for Bob with a fake overseas job. This was just about plausible, as he could generally stumble through some French, but had an appalling accent. At 6:45, he made his way to the address on the ad. Half an hour later, the guy he’d spoken to on the phone walked out to see him.
“Hey. Can I help you?”
“Um, yeah, I hope so. I’m Frank Iero. I called yesterday?”
“Oh, of course. Sorry. As you can probably see, we’re quite rushed at the moment.” The guy grinned. Frank took this opportunity to look at him properly. Reasonably tall- taller than Frank, though that wasn’t saying much- youngish and harassed looking. A small curtain of dark hair flopped across his forehead and fell into one eye. He brushed it back impatiently and spoke.
“Did you bring your résumé?”
“Yeah.” Frank fumbled before taking a folded sheet out of his back pocket and handing it over.
The guy barely glanced at it before asking, “You got any previous experience?”
“Umm, no, but I’m happy to learn. And I can give your bouncers a hand if they ever need it.”
The guy raised an eyebrow.
“I know karate.” Frank grinned.
“Yeah, okay. We’ll put you on for a trial period of say, two weeks? Just to see how you shape up. Normally, we’d look for someone with more experience or at least interview you properly but, like I mentioned, we really need the help. I’m Pete by the way.”
“That sounds fair. When d’you want me to start?”
The guy, Pete, looked sheepish and ran a hand through his hair.
“Uh, would tonight be ok? We’re at least a couple of people short this shift.”
“Yeah. It’s not like I have anything better to do anyway.”
“Cool. I’ll err, show you around then.”
Pete led him through to a darkened room with a bar illuminated with gentle blue neon lighting in the centre.
“I guess the easiest thing to start with would be the taps, since they’re basically just point and click. If anyone asks for something bottled, they’re just in the fridge here. And if they ask for some cocktail or other, just send them in my direction.” Pete had him practice filling a glass a couple of times before he rushed off to sort out someone else to fill in.
“We open in about ten minutes, and your shift will finish at 3 since it’s a Tuesday. On Fridays and Saturdays, we’re open ‘till 6. Patrick, Ashley and Ryan will be here soon. They’re working the bar with you too. Zack’s the bouncer.”
“Okay. Thanks, man,” said Frank, flashing a grin at him.
*
Working behind a bar proved to be more tedious than Frank expected. Most of the customers ignored him except to ask for another round, and the others on shift were generally too busy to socialise too much with him. It wasn’t really the kind of job where you’d go out together for drinks after.
About a week later, at 10:00, a hen’s party- already unsteady, and looking to get much drunker- stumbled in. They ordered their drinks and bothered Patrick for about an hour, before a blonde girl split off from the party and made her way over to him. She smiled at him, her obviously artificially whitened teeth at odds with her yellow, nicotine-stained gums, and asked brightly, “Two Liquid Panty Removers please.”
“Oh. Um, I don’t actually know how to make them, but I’m sure if you go ask Pete-” he tailed off, suddenly aware that Patrick was still mobbed and Ryan was holding down the tills on his own. Frank suspected Pete and Ashley had snuck off by themselves again. “- or I could get you something else,” he finished apologetically. She flashed her teeth at him, flipped her bleached hair and fingered the end of one of her extensions.
“What can you get me then?” she asked playfully, fluttering her eyelashes.
“Umm, beer?”
“Well then. I think I’ll have… a Carling. And a Bud for my friend.”
She tucked her elbows back and leaned forward to collect them. “What time do you get off anyway?”
“3-ish,” Frank managed to mumble as she grinned some more, then trotted off.
*
Pete didn’t keep him late, as what usually happened. And the girl - she said her name was
Frank tried to ignore Patrick when he leaned over and muttered, “You’ve scored, mate.”
Finally, Pete stopped the music, called Zack to get people moving, and gave him the nod to leave.
Once outside, he pulled her into the side street and kissed her.
“Your place or mine?” he asked breathlessly when they broke apart.
“Mine,” she giggled. “It’s only a minute or two away.”
*
They crashed through the front room of her apartment, Frank stumbling as he kicked off his shoes. They tumbled backwards onto her bed and kissed some more. Frank shut his eyes, seeing her in his mind’s eye anyway- slightly androgynous, pale, dark haired, and with eyes that seemed to change colour as he looked at them; beautiful, which ever way Frank looked at her. He buried his hands in that hair, feeling an unexpected stiffness from bleach. He opened his eyes again in surprise and found himself staring at the bronzed, blonde
What the fuck?
He shook his head and kissed her again. The same image met him, this time taking on a more solid, very familiar form.
“Fuck,” he said loudly.
She looked at him in shock.
“What?”
“Fuck. I just, I mean, fuck. I’m sorry,” stammered Frank, backing away. “I mean, fuck, I have to leave.”
He turned, ignoring her cries of, “Don’t go,” found his shoes, and fled.
* * *
Gerard sat at the corner of a quiet bar, sipping some beer. A person appeared at his elbow.
"On your own?" the guy asked, smiling easily at him. Gerard looked up. The man addressing him was young, maybe late twenties, and simply but attractively dressed in blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a blazer jacket. Natural, mousey blonde hair fell across his forehead, rimless glasses perched on his nose.
"I'm Simon, by the way," he clarified, holding out a hand with long, delicate fingers and slight pencil smudges. Gerard took it, mumbled his name, and felt Simon squeeze his hand gently. The contact lasted a fraction of a second longer than an ordinary handshake, and then vanished. Gerard blinked.
"Yeah. In answer to your question, yeah, I don't know that many people here and my brother fancied a quiet night in." he said after a moment's pause.
"I always wanted a brother."
"Hah. You wouldn't if you'd known Mikes as a kid. This one time, when he was really mad at me…"
They fell easily into talking. Gerard learned that Simon was a small time architect who spent most of him time designing housing extensions - "It's not much, but it pays the rent." - and had no siblings though he always kind of wanted some. Gerard told him about having lived abroad for several years, and thought he might like to teach.
It was the first time his cover story had ever made him feel bad.
An hour or two later, Gerard reluctantly made to leave and Simon offered to call him a cab. Gerard accepted with a brilliant smile, and as he stepped towards the open door of the car, Simon caught Gerard's wrist and held out a scrap of paper.
"Call me?" he asked tentatively. Gerard looked at him.
Why the hell not? Mikey is right. You have to move on from Frank. It's never going to happen, so why upset yourself over it? Besides, this guy seems nice. How much could it hurt to see him again?
He made the decision, and in one fluid motion he reached out and plucked the paper from Simon's fingers, planted a swift kiss on his cheek and stepped back into the cab.
"I'll call you."
Okay, so it’s been ages again, but life is really busy. Anyway, Frank has his eyes opened, and Gerard meets a nice boy. I think the next chapter’ll be a couple of months later (in fic land, not real life, though the way stuff is happening who knows when I can update again)
Anyway, I need the help of you guys.
Some really shit shit is going down. Basically, by awesome friends Nika and Lauren started going out, but then Nika finished with Lauren about 3 months later because she didn’t feel that strongly. Nika sort of bounced back, but Lauren just didn’t. That was a whole month ago, and now Lauren still is depressed about Nika, and isn’t sleeping properly, and Nika’s just been alittle but insensitive (by accident) like today, she was telling Lauren about this fit guy she met on the Geog trip to the Lakes. I don’t know if Nika was just experimenting with Lauren (they’re both girls, and I know Lauren definitely doesn’t like guys, and Nika still does), but I called her and told her things were getting screwy and I made her cry but I didn’t mean to and now I don’t have a fucking clue what to do and I think I need some advice/help.
on a lighter note i saw Elliot Minor, Seth Lakeman and The Stranglers last week :)
Title: The world can't protect you.
Author: ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
wingsandclaws
Pairing:Frank/Gerard, Mikey/Jared, Ray/Bob
Rating:PG-13 (so far)
POV: Third Person
Summary: This is going to sound weird, but here goes.
Gerard is the world's campest assassin, but when he finds himself suddenly teamed up with Frank, he finds his world may change.
Beta: The awesome boobookittifukk
Disclaimer: The moon is made of cheese
Authors Note comments are love; It's been ages since i updated, and i'm SORRY
more under the cut
Chapter 1
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12!
Chapter 13
“Gerard,” said Bob. “I’m going to give you some time off. I’m going to give everyone some time off actually, since I think you all deserve it.”
He held up a hand. Gerard shut his mouth again.
“Anyway, here’s your cut-” Bob slid a stack of green notes across the table. “-and send Mikey in on your way out.” He waved his hand in a clear gesture of dismissal, and Gerard took the money and left, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.
“Mikey!”
It took a second or two before Mikey noticed- with the help of Jared’s pointy elbow- and glanced up from his Palmtop screen, scowling.
“Mr Bryar will see you now,” Gerard trilled in his best secretary voice. Jared laughed as Mikey glared, got up, and went into the office.
“Bob paid you then?”
“Yup. Hey, man,” Gerard’s tone took on a hint of seriousness. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”
“Yeah. I’m glad I’m not dead too.”
*
The day after Bob paid him, Frank stood on the banks of the river
He sighed. Already he felt better as he turned and strode back towards the city.
*
It took Gerard four days to properly sort his laundry from his recent excursions, wrinkling his nose as he discovered a pair of socks that were probably a month old. Most of the time was dedicated to deciding what he would keep and which stuff was past its best. Finally, after tearfully concluding that his skull skinny t-shirt really did have one hole too many to keep, he finished and figured the best way to cheer himself up was to go shopping.
*
He returned home with twelve bags, each emblazoned with a different brand name, thoroughly pleased with himself and humming happily.
His phone buzzed into life.
“Aloha?” he asked brightly.
“Hey, Gee. It’s me,” Mikey’s voice in his ear.
“Mikey!” he exclaimed, wandering into the living room and flopping into one of the armchairs, tilting his head back and swinging his legs over the armrest while one foot kicked idly.
“So how’ve you been?”
Gerard grinned madly, his face bearing a striking resemblance to the Cheshire Cat.
“I’ve been great thanks. Actually, you would not believe the bargain I got today…”
About forty minutes later, there was a muffled debate at the other end of the line before Mikey’s sheepish voice reached him.
“Yeah, uh, I have to go now. Jared says I’m running up a phone bill, and if we talk too much now, we’ll have nothing to say to each other tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Oh shit! Did I forget to ask? That was the whole reason I called. I meant to ask. You wanna come over tomorrow for dinner? Jared’s cooking.”
“Sure. I’ll let you get off the phone then. Don’t want to upset the missus.”
“Oi Gerard! I heard that! Mikey’s totally the missus!” yelled Jared in the background. Gerard laughed, mumbled a goodbye and hung up.
*
Gerard arrived at around 7:30, with a bottle of red wine he thought was meant to be good. It had certainly been pricey.
Jared answered the door and dragged him into a one-armed hug, narrowly avoiding smearing him with a sauce-covered wooden spoon.
“Gerard!” said Jared cheerfully.
“Jared! I think stuff is burning!” yelled Mikey. Jared yelped and bolted back into the kitchen. Cautiously, Gerard followed him.
Mikey stood in front of the oven, dithering and getting under Jared’s feet whilst Jared ran back and forth, nudging Mikey out of the way when required with his elbows.
“Can I, er, do anything to help?” asked Gerard tentatively.
“No!” shouted Jared, “In fact, here, take Mikey and go sit in the living room.”
“But I can’t let you do all the work...” started Mikey, as Jared shoved him towards Gerard and the door.
“Out of my kitchen!” Jared waved his wooden spoon menacingly at them.
Gerard looked at Mikey, stifled a grin and said in a stage whisper, “Dude, your boyfriend is scary.”
Mikey laughed as Jared brandished the spoon and glared at them, before obediently leading Gerard to the next room.
“Honestly, he’s so territorial,” said Mikey conversationally. “I swear, I unmake one inch of his side of the bed and he totally loses his rag with me.”
“Hey! As you brother, there’s some stuff I just don’t need to think about.”
“You know you love it really.”
“Shut up. Oh, and where do you want me to put this?” He gestured at the bottle.
“Wow, you brought wine? Cultured. Just, err, I think the table would be best.”
*
Several hours later, Gerard was curled in the armchair like a cat, a beer dangling loosely from his fingers whilst Mikey sat on the sofa, Jared’s head in his lap. The latter had been asleep for about twenty minutes.
“…And then Frank looked at me like I was crazy and said, ‘Remind me never to go to
“Gerard,” said Mikey gently. “You wanna tell me what happened between you and Frank?”
Gerard paused about a second too long before answering in an overly casual tone of voice. “Nothing happened. What made you think something had happened?”
Mikey raised an eyebrow.
“Gerard. You haven’t spoken two words to him since
“Yeah, that’s it. We just had a fight. It’s nothing major.”
Mikey looked at him. Gerard just sighed, resigned to his fate.
“Okay, okay. So you remember how Frank said he liked girls?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, we kind of, um, had sex?” admitted Gerard, making the last couple of words sound like a question.
“Ah. And after that?”
“The next day, he totally denied it ever happened. And then said I’d manipulated him, and he’d pretended I was a woman. Even though he started it.” Gerard paused, bending his head down and knotting his fingers into his fringe. “It hurt, actually. More than rejection normally does.”
Mikey heaved a sigh and lifted his gaze up to meet Gerard’s.
“Oh, Gerard. Don’t you remember how it felt when you first realised you liked a guy? The anger? The denial? And you didn’t have the added discomfort of having to see him every day.”
“Hey! I shared homeroom with Bert!” he protested weakly.
“That is irrelevant. Did you speak to him? Were you expected to hang around with him constantly?”
“…No.”
“Exactly. And Frank’s older. I mean, when you’re sixteen, you almost expect stuff to happen. You don’t, but you do. Once you hit twenty, you stop thinking about it. Imagine if tomorrow, you run into a girl you like, like that? It would mess up your head some, right?”
“I guess.”
“Of course it would. Frank’s not sure of his sexuality right now. He’s confused and that makes him angry, so he lashes out at what he perceived to be the problem. In this case, you.”
“You’re saying it’s not his fault that he said he thought of me as a woman?”
“No. That’s ridiculous, and he knows it. You think that what you’d do with a woman would be anything like what you did with him? It was an unacceptable thing to say. You know it and he knows it, but no amount of analysing will unsay it. You should let him have some time now, then later try and salvage your friendship. Not least because it will make both of your lives easier when Bob sends the two of you somewhere exotic. But abandon any other feelings you have for him. Frank has to deal with these issues on his own, and if you get tangled up in them, you’ll just get hurt.”
“Mikey? How the hell d’you get so goddamned wise?”
“I just see people, Gee. That’s all.”
“Mmm. Well, it’s getting kinda late, and I think I should go home. You probably want your chair back anyway,” he said, getting up. “Thanks for the advice. I’d thank you for the food too, but I suspect it was mostly Jared’s work. Thank him for me when he wakes up?”
A/N: Hey again guys, I know it’s been a little while, but I’ve been busy. Sixth Form takes up practically all my time now.
Still, I’ve managed to cobble together a chapter J
Make my day and comment?
Title: The world can't protect you.
Author: wingsandclaws
Pairing:Frank/Gerard, Mikey/Jared
Rating:R? (for swearing and murder)
POV: Third Person
Summary: This is going to sound weird, but here goes.
Gerard is the world's campest assassin, but when he finds himself suddenly teamed up with Frank
Beta: The awesome boobookittifukk
Disclaimer: The moon is made of cheese
Authors Note comments are love; It's been ages since i updated, and i'm SORRY
more under the cut,
Chapter 1
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
A/N: I want to thank anyone who stuck with me this far, since i owe you my life! (not literally, since i'm not quite suicidal yet) so yeah, and my insane issues about this chapter are at the end :)
in other news, i really want to write a Spartan Fic (like, where they live there O.o) since i'm studying it in Ancient History and have this wierd image of the 300 guys sitting around a hearth and two of them are knitting, and the rest are standing at the back doing the can-can and singing various show tunes, with Leonaidas watching and being all "you're totally out of time! Stop and try again!"
And then we had the amusing experiance of finding out that the Spartans were GAY (which somehow no-one else in my class knew O.o) and one girl sticks her hand up and says "Sir, if the Spartans were, y'know, wouldn't it be kinda awkward, when they went into battle, since there were all naked and - yeah"
so the teacher looked at her and went "what Heather? they'd charge halfway towards the enemy, then onesone would yell (*camp voice*)"Hang on boys! Lets not bother with this, and just have a big orgy instead!""
she was most perturbed, and said "they didn't actually do that, did they?" and he just grinned inanely and went "if anyone did, it was the spartans"
o.O
anyway, i love you all.
oh yeah, and you might want to catch up on the end of the last chapter. I know i did :P
Chapter 12
Gerard was sitting in the armchair when Frank came through for his morning coffee.
“Frank?” Gerard asked quietly. Frank stopped and looked at him. “For what I said…about you killing your partner…I’m sorry. I was pissed off about losing a chance to find Jared, but that’s no excuse, and I’m- sorry.”
Frank nodded an acknowledgement at him.
“And I think we need to talk.”
“What would we have to talk about?” asked Frank, his voice carefully even.
“Umm. Last night? The- stuff that happened.”
“Nothing happened,” denied Frank.
“While it may have escaped your notice that you fucked me last night, it certainly did not escape mine, Frank”
“You seduced me, so I see no reason why I should have to talk about it.”
“I seduced you?!” shrieked Gerard “You kissed me! You initiated the whole thing! Just face it Frank. You’re gay!”
“I’m not gay,” growled Frank. “Maybe being around you has made me act slightly differently, but I’m not.”
“Frank, that’s ridiculous, and you know it!”
“You manipulated me and used me. And besides, I pretended you were a woman.”
“You what?!”
“You heard me. Now fuck off. I don’t want to see you”
*
Frank ignored Gerard completely for five days; he spoke perfectly cordially to Ray in the daily progress meetings at Starbucks, but he never so much as glanced in Gerard’s direction.
Finally, after almost a week in
“I think we should make our move against Livingson.”
“But if we do, Jared’s as good as dead,” countered Ray.
“With each day that passes, Jared’s death becomes more and more likely. We’ve no new ideas, no leads, and no information. We have to face it – even if he is still alive, chances are we’ll never find him. We should do what we’re being paid for and then go back to
“I guess it’s hard to argue with that logic. Okay, start planning your hit. I’ll keep looking, though I agree the trail’s gone cold.”
*
Gerard had some decent ideas about how to take down a high mark. Sniper fire might be simplest but Gerard wanted to make this man suffer, and that meant he had to get in close.
There were two ways into the compound, he figured: through the main gate and from above. The latter would be easiest, since Bob said he had access to a helicopter. There was enough air traffic overhead for it to be ignored, and he could parachute onto the roof undetected. There was a handy door down to the building, and he knew where he could find Livingson at night. The only kink was how to get out again.
“I’ll ask Frank,” he mused aloud, but then he remembered that Frank wasn’t talking to him. He settled for asking Ray.
*
“Couldn’t you just get picked up again?” suggested Ray, over yet more coffee.
“I guess. You wouldn’t have time to land it though.”
“If I can find you one with a winch and have the cable already unravelled, can you clip yourself to it as I fly over?” Ray was always the pilot where Gerard was concerned.
“Only one way to find out. And if I don’t, I’m sure I’ll find another way out.”
Later that day, Gerard got a call from Bob.
“Gerard?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t care what you did to Frank. Your fight is damaging the mission. Fix it.”
“But it wasn’t actually my fault this time.”
“No buts. And Gerard?”
“Mm?”
“For the love of God, dye your hair black again.”
Click.
*
Gerard did as Bob asked. He dyed his hair, and tried apologising again to Frank, but was met with stony silence. Fuck you then, thought Gerard sourly.
He set Saturday morning as the day, about 2am to be precise. He didn’t bother asking Frank to come with him.
He dressed in his customary black, concealing a small blade in the heel of his right boot, another in his sleeve and an automatic in the waistband of his jeans. He pulled on his coat, stuck a revolver into the shoulder holster, and left, ignoring Frank on the sofa.
*
1:43am, and Gerard felt the wind ruffle his hair, his eyes prickling with tears in the cold air.
“Ray!” he yelled over the radio system.
“Yeah!”
“If I don’t come back, tell Bob I want a decent funeral! And tell Mikey he’s to come and cry by my grave every day!”
“I’ll tell them! We’re about the right altitude now! Good luck!”
Gerard flashed him a dangerously insane grin and plunged into the night. He fixed his eyes on the building below, waited the requisite six seconds then pulled the chute and coasted easily down onto the roof. The floodlights were all pointed at the compound.
He landed lightly, his boots making a soft flumping sound on the concrete. He crouched there a moment, feeling the adrenaline that accompanied every jump course through his veins, then stood, swiftly unfastening the parachute harness and drawing the revolver, fastening a silencer onto the barrel and edging around the door. Mercifully it was unlocked, and he crept into the bowels of the building.
The insides were lushly carpeted in red, with pale cream walls. Gerard dodged past several empty rooms, doors ajar, until about 10 minutes later, he stopped outside a door from which he could hear gentle breathing. He stuck his head- and the arm holding the gun- through the gap and looked around. A large four poster bed dominated the central space, with a tall window, curtains drawn, and to the left was a door, presumably leading to an en suite bathroom.
Gerard ran quietly across the room, five steps to the bed, gathering the momentum for a leap onto the bed, landing perfectly with one foot either side of his quarry, crouched and sneaking a pistol against Livingson’s temple. The man woke at once, terror clouding his features. He was a plumpish, balding man of about 48, with a round face. He raised stubby hands to protect his head as Gerard glared at him.
“I think you know why I’m here,” he growled.
A brief, frightened nod.
“You took my friend. What’ve you done to him? Where is he?”
“I won’t tell you anything,” Livingson stammered. Gerard laughed
“What do you think this is? A B-grade movie? Of course you’ll tell me everything. It’s just a question of how long it takes.” He seized one of the fat fingers and twisted it clockwise until it gave a sickening, fleshy crack. Livingson squealed and scrambled at the bed sheets with his free hand.
“What did you do with his body?” demanded Gerard, grabbing the next finger and breaking it easily, yanking on the digit until the knuckle dislocated.
“Ow! OW! He’s not dead yet! We- we wanted to find out who he worked for.”
Gerard bent his thumb back
“What did you find out? And where is he?”
“Downstairs, in the room by the staff kitchen I think. He wouldn’t tell us anything, and we were going to get rid of him in a couple of days.”
Gerard smiled a twisted smile of hate. Calmly, he adjusted the gun and unloaded two silenced rounds into Livingson’s skull.
He removed the silencer, slipping it inside his pocket, and quickly wiped the stock clean of any prints before abandoning it on the pillow, snatching the automatic and standing. He fled the room, hurriedly searching his mental map of the building, locating the staff kitchens and heading for them. Below stairs was considerably less pleasant, to the point of being Spartan. The walls were plain white paint, cracked at the corners with pipes running undisguised along at ankle height. He took a turn to the left, and then checked every room until- four doors down- he saw a familiar figure flopped in a chair.
“Shit, Jared!” hissed Gerard, hurrying across the room and tapping him gently on either side of his face. Jared’s eyelids- a deep purple-yellow colour- fluttered. “Jared? Fuck, can you hear me?”
“Go ’way.”
“Good. Listen, can you feel this?” asked Gerard, pinching him on the calf.
“Ow. Yes,” Jared mumbled, struggling to string words together.
“Good,” remarked Gerard purposefully. Concussion, but no spinal injuries. Gerard pushed his head back, palm to Jared’s forehead, and checked his pulse. Erratic, but strong enough. He dodged around the chair, flicked the blade out of his sleeve with practiced ease and sawed at the bonds.
“Always with the duct tape,” he grumbled as the last fibres snapped.
It was simple enough to swing Jared into a fireman’s lift- he was much lighter than the last time Gerard tried to pick him up- and then Gerard paused and checked his watch. 2:20am. Five minutes until pick up.
He stumbled back to the stairs, the extra weight over one shoulder unbalancing him slightly. He ran through a myriad of corridors, heedless of any noise he might be making, muttering “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” under his breath. He staggered out onto the roof, glancing at his watch again, 2:24am, and looked up expectantly.
The familiar thumping sounds of rotor blades reached him. He shifted Jared’s limp form and broke into a sprint across the roof. He though he heard a gunshot, but he wasn’t too sure, concentrating solely on the winch cable, grabbing it and clipping it to him as it spun past, then running out of footing and swinging in a smooth arc over the compound. Faintly, he heard the whirr of another motor, and presently heaved Jared into the body of the helicopter before hauling himself in. Ray spared him a look of disbelief and yelled, “Fuck, Gerard! You found Jared?!”
“Yeah! Set us down as soon as you can!”
*
“Can you fetch Frank and get hold of a car?” asked Gerard once they were on the ground.
“Why?”
“We’ll have to drive over the border. Livingson might have been a bald, old wimp, but there were powerful people in his employ, and he had even more powerful friends. We turn up in a hospital with Jared, they’d be all over us in seconds, and then what?”
Grudgingly, Ray agreed and left them quietly in the hangar. Gerard made a fuller survey of Jared’s injuries- almost every scrap of skin was bruised, there was an ugly slash across his stomach several days old, and possibly some internal bleeding though he couldn’t be sure. All the fingers on his left hand were broken, as were most on his right, and there was definitely concussion. All in all, Gerard reckoned he’d been lucky.
About an hour later- 3:39am- Ray reappeared with an annoyed looking Frank and a small car. Frank agreed to drive first once they’d decided where to go-
Ray laid his head on the window, promising to take over after three hours of driving. Gerard sat in the back, Jared’s head on his knee, waking him every two hours to make sure he hadn’t slipped into a coma.
Hours past. Gerard wasn’t certain but he thought he’d woken Jared three times and that Ray had switched twice. That seemed to add up properly, and the sun had been up for a while now. He nodded off.
He woke up again when they reached the border, he wasn’t sure how much later. He nudged Jared awake, and marvelled at Ray’s ability to produce flawless Brazilian Portuguese from his seemingly endless repertoire of languages.
In total it took them 16 hours to get to
The nurse took them to a small white room, and ushered them out while she and a couple of colleagues changed Jared and sorted him out, making disapproving tutting noises. Twenty minutes later- clearly they were given priority as American Tourists- a white coated doctor came to talk to them. Mercifully, he spoke English
“Your friend is not too well, you realise this?”
“Yeah” muttered Gerard
“Well, he should recover okay, but he has suffered multiple injuries, nine of his ten fingers are broken, and he’s had three teeth wrenched out. Whatever your story, I trust I can tell you that you’re very lucky that he’s going to be alright.”
“We’ll take more care from now on.” Said Frank smoothly. Gerard jumped; he’d almost forgotten what Frank’s voice sounded like.
Gerard’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it.
“Oh, I’ve got to take this. Please, continue. They’ll fill me in later.” Gerard gestured vaguely at Frank and Ray, as he stood up and wandered off, phone held to his ear.
“Gerard?” demanded Bob. “Where the hell have you all been? I’ve had no answers for the last ten hours! The hotel told me Ray’s not been back for a couple of days!”
“Look, Bob, its okay! Everyone’s okay, I got Livingson, and we got out of
“I know where it is!”
“Okay, and the best part is, we found Jared, and the doctors here say he’s gonna be okay! I’m gonna call Mikey and tell him, but can you get him some plane tickets sorted out? I can meet him off the flight, any time”
“I’ll call him in ten; make sure you’re off the line, and Gerard?”
“Yeah?”
“Go AWOL again, and I’ll have you hunted down like a dog, got it?”
Gerard rolled his eyes “Yes Bobert”
Click
Gerard spared himself a small smile at Bob’s melodrama, then dialled Mikey’s cell number.
“Mikes”
“Mm-hmm?”
“It’s good news, we found Jared, and he’s gonna be okay. You’re such a tard sometimes, man. He didn’t run off with someone, and he still loves you, you got that?”
“Um, Gerard,” said Mikey quietly, “If you are fucking with me, then I will kill you.”
“I’m not! Really, Bob’s gonna get you a ticket out here; we’re at the
“Gerard, I- I- Are you serious?!”
“Yeah! Get off the phone, Bob’ll be calling in a minute. Get yourself packed!” laughed Gerard as the line went dead.
He flipped his phone closed and waked back to Jared’s room, where Ray and Frank had finally been admitted.
“What did the doctor say?” Gerard asked quietly, careful not to wake Jared.
“He basically re-iterated himself. He said “everybody lies” a lot too”
“Weird,” said Gerard absently, sitting down opposite Frank, resolutely not looking at him.
*
Three days later, Gerard was back in Bob’s office.
------------------
Was Gerard too mean?
Was the whole thing just that little bit too far beyond reality?
is the world going to end?!
*Hides*
Title: The world can't protect you.
Author:</lj></font>
Pairing:Frank/Gerard, Mikey/Jared, Ray/Bob
Rating:PG-13 (so far)
POV: Third Person
Summary: This is going to sound weird, but here goes.
Gerard is the world's campest assassin, but when he finds himself suddenly teamed up with Frank … (oh, dudes, this summary sucks)
Beta: The awesome boobookittifukk
Disclaimer: The moon is made of cheese
Authors Note comments are love; It's been ages since i updated, and i'm SORRY
more under the cut,
Chapter 1
Chapter 11
As promised, Ray was there to meet them. A weary smile offered with a quiet greeting.
“Gerard, what’ve you done to your…? You know what? I don’t care. I’ve made some inquiries while I’ve been here. I’ll tell you about them tomorrow- or later today, actually” he corrected, glancing at his watch. “But I guess you guys will be wanting to get some sleep. I got you an apartment on the edge of the city- it’s not too far from Jared’s hotel, nor far from where I am either.”
They stopped outside to hail a taxi.
“How come we never hire a car?” Frank asked.
“Why would we want to hire a car? I can’t drive, can you drive?” asked Gerard, focussing on waving down a cab.
“Yeah. Of course. What kid doesn’t learn to drive?”
“Oh. You can get one tomorrow then if you want.”
*
The streets of
At 10am later that morning, Frank awoke feeling refreshed for the first time in days. He got up, stretched and padded to the bathroom to shower. He glanced at the living room as he wandered back. The carpet was a dark burgundy while the sofa and armchair were almost mahogany, a coffee table and at TV facing them.
Frank went to get dressed, before hunting round the kitchen for a kettle, two mugs and some coffee. Thankfully, the pervious occupants had left half a jar of instant. Frank explored the rest of the small kitchen while he waited for the kettle to boil. The cupboards next to the cooker held plates and cutlery, the one next to the fridge was actually a dishwasher masquerading as a cabinet and those above the sideboard were empty, clearly for food. It was too small a room for a table.
The switch on the kettle flicked off with a loud click. Frank finished making the coffee, scalded the roof of his mouth with his own, took the other through to Gerard’s room and set it down on the nightstand. He hissed quietly.
“Hey, I made you some coffee.” In the absence of a reply, Frank abandoned caution and shook him by the shoulder. “Dude, wake up!”
Gerard mumbled something incoherent and opened an eye.
“Coffee,” said Frank, pointing. Gerard looked at it suspiciously.
“Have you poisoned it?”
“No, but there’s no milk or sugar. Nothing in the house.”
“Oh. Thanks then, I think.”
*
The kitchen phone rang. Frank jumped, not realising it was connected. He got up and answered it.
“Hello?”
“Hey Frank, it’s Ray. Can you guys meet me in the lobby in ten minutes?”
“I’m sure we can, sir”
“You’re not on the island now, kid. You don’t have to call me sir.”
“Um, okay. We might be a little later; Gerard’s only just gotten his coffee.”
Ray laughed. “I’ll give you twenty.”
*
Twenty five minutes later, at a Starbucks on a street corner, Ray filled them in on everything he knew.
“We think he vanished on Friday, so five days ago. He’d spoken to me the day before. Said he was gonna scope out Livingson’s palace. It seems likely that that’s when he disappeared because the hotel staff told me he hasn’t been back. I’ve had the place staked out since I’ve been here, and security’s much tighter than we previously thought. I’d guess they’ve got him.”
“Well, there’s an easy way to confirm that. I’ll grab one of them and beat the truth out of him.”
“Alright. Get someone as they come off duty, but keep in mind that if they considered him a serious threat, I doubt the lower-downs even know about him. Give me a call with what you find out. I’ll see you later.”
*
Frank and Gerard took turns loitering around the corner from the staff exit of the drug lord’s den, about fifty feet away. Finally, after a six hour vigil, Gerard perked up and motioned Frank over, narrowing his eyes at a bulky guy emerging from the complex. Frank groaned and shook his head.
“I’ll leave this to you. See you back at the apartment. You can let me know then.” They split up, Frank making a mental note that next time, he must hire a car. He walked off, hailing a cab while Gerard stalked the stranger.
On his way back, Frank stopped by one of the supermarkets to get coffee, some sugar and other necessities like bread and milk. He spent what was left of the day and most of the evening in front of the TV, listening out for the phone or the door.
At 11pm, Gerard came into the apartment. Frank glanced at his expression and, sensing he had been unsuccessful, stood up.
“I’m sure we’ll find him, even if this was a dead end.”
“Of course I’ll find him. Just because you got your partner killed doesn’t mean we’re all so careless with our friends.”
Frank stared at him, astonished to have that of all things thrown at him.
“God. I mean, Jesus Gerard! Have you ever listened to yourself?” he exclaimed. “I don’t get you. One minute you’re making me coffee when I’m hungover, and the next shit like that!
“I mean, Jesus. I really hate you sometimes.” Frank stepped closer and pushed the other man squarely in the chest.
Gerard glared at him, angry flames flickering behind his eyes.
“Don’t push me,” he said quietly, dangerously. Frank shoved him again.
“Or what?”
Gerard seized Frank’s jacket by the shoulders and pushed him back against the wall. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then Frank leaned forward and kissed him. Hard.
After a shocked silence, Gerard responded, dragging Frank closer and relieving him roughly of his jacket. Frank locked his arms around Gerard’s neck, scrabbling for the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it up over Gerard’s head and leaving several long scratches on his back.
Gerard tore Frank’s shirt free and stumbled backwards, struggling with Frank’s belt before tripping and falling flat, pulling Frank down with him. Frank clawed at the button on Gerard’s jeans. Gerard knocked his hands away and unbuttoned it himself as Frank bit down on Gerard’s bottom lip and twisted, breaking the skin and letting the salty taste of blood flood their mouths.
He struggled free of his pants and plunged his hand into Gerard’s boxers, grunting with frustration and removing the offending article completely. Thumbing the tip, he ran his hand up and down, leaving Gerard unable anything other than writhe and groan below him. And then, when Gerard felt he could bear it no longer, Frank stopped, pinned Gerard’s arms above his head, adjusted himself and plunged into him with no prep or warning whatsoever, soliciting a loud, stifled gasp of pain.
“Jesus, Frank!” Gerard gasped hoarsely as Frank drew himself out and thrust again, grazing Gerard’s prostrate and causing a spasm and a gasp of pleasure. Frank clamped one hand onto Gerard’s shoulder, wrapping the other around the older man’s cock, feeling himself grow close with the sounds the other man was making.
Gerard tangled his fingers in Frank’s hair, flinging his own head back and hissing, “Frank, I- I think I’m going to-” With a loud yell, he came, dragging Frank over the edge into a calm sea of nothingness.
Frank came to, maybe minutes, maybe hours later, and rolled away from Gerard’s immobile form. He scrambled up off the rug and padded quietly to the shower.
A/N: So. Um, okay, so this was the first time I wrote Slash, and I’m kinda nervy about it. *hides*
Anyone got any thoughts?
Also, if anyone has any thoughts about how Frank deals with this turn of events I’d be very grateful J
Love you all.
<3
wingsandclawsChapter 10
They made it back to
Gerard insisted on going straight to Mikey’s apartment, despite the suitcases they had to carry about and the fatigue Frank was suffering.
It took Gerard four rings of the doorbell before Mikey opened the door to admit them, when he did it was with an absent minded nod and gesture. They went into the living room.
“Why don’t you sit down Mikes?” Gerard asked softly; Frank flopped down in an armchair and crashed out. Mikey looked at him, but collapsed onto the sofa.
“It’s Jared, isn’t it? I knew something had happened. I haven’t heard from him in days.”
“Well, yeah, but we’re gonna find him, and we’ll bring him back, and it will all be okay”
“If he wants to be found” said Mikey sadly, eyes cast down, “I mean, you were right, weren’t you? You said it would happen, and it did”
“I said what would happen?” asked Gerard, confused.
“That Jared would find someone better than me, and now he’s found him. Or her.”
“Jesus, Mikey! I didn’t mean it like that. Besides, it looks like he’s actually vanished. Bob thinks something went wrong with his task, so me and Frank are going out there to try to track him down. It’ll be okay, you’ll see.”
Mikey just looked at him sadly, almost pityingly. Gerard shuffled, unsure of what else to say.
“I’ll make you some coffee,” he muttered at last, hurrying from the room. It took him three minutes to make it, chiefly due to the time it took the kettle to boil. He came back clutching a steaming mug, and, pushing it into Mikey’s unresisting hands; he woke Frank and murmured a goodbye.
*
Bob didn’t look particularly happy to see them, but then, he rarely looked happy to begin with. He glanced at Frank- falling asleep where he stood- and raised an eyebrow.
“Gerard,” he reprimanded “No matter what other thoughts were on your mind, you could at least have allowed the boy some sleep.”
“Hey! It’s not my fault if flying disagrees with him,” Gerard pouted.
“Okay. You told Mikey, I trust?”
“He’d guessed”
“Right, three days ago is when we first realised that something was wrong; when he didn’t answer his phone, despite persistent calls, so I sent Ray to investigate. The hotel confirms that he didn’t return at all after I had tried to contact him. It seems safe to conclude therefore that he went missing around that time.”
“What was he doing in
“Getting rid of a man by name of Richard Livingson, a drug baron. Just settling some other baron’s scores. You’ll probably have to take him down too-if you want to get paid. This is a picture of Livingson’s head of security”- he threw a photograph onto the table: it showed the typical muscleman, bald, suited and of apelike appearance, “he’s got some unpronounceable Russian name. Anyway, I’d imagine he’d be where to start your search. How’s your Spanish?”
“Mediocre”
“Well, get some practice in. You’ll have considerable equipment to work with over there; our client was very eager to offer his help once we found the right incentive.”
“Nice”
“The standard issue sniper rifles, and such like are of course being provided, along with some Kevlar vests and I think a helicopter. I know how you like those”
“No holds barred, huh? You must’ve really threatened the guy.”
“Oh I did. Your flights are already booked for this evening”- Frank groaned loudly, Bob glared at him. “They’re transfer, and here are your tickets.”
“Thanks. How do we contact Ray?”
“He’s meeting you in the airport in
“Awesome”
Frank yawned widely as Gerard yanked on his arm, dragging him out of the office and back into the lift.
“I’ll get us a hotel” said Gerard distractedly, running a hand through his hair.
“God, don’t you have an apartment in
“Oh yeah. I remember that place”
“You forgot you had an apartment?” asked Frank sceptically.
“Mmhmm. I almost never go there. I guess it will do”
*
The apartment- two subway trains later- did look as if no-one had lived there in a while. It was untidy; a magazine or two (very out of date) strewn across the table, cutlery on the drying rack, but an invisible something denoted they hadn’t been touched for months.
“Guest room’s through there,” pointed Gerard. “Bathroom’s next door” Frank dropped his bags and bolted, kicking of his shoes and collapsing onto the sheets, sound asleep. Gerard dumped his suitcase in his own room, and wandered into the bathroom. He rifled through the cupboard above the sink, finding the usual collection of toothpaste, aftershave and finally, at the back, an old, long forgotten bottle of bubblegum pink hair dye.
He flipped it over and read the instructions; wash hair, bleach and then dye for 30 minutes. It seemed a good enough way to spend several hours.
*
Gerard woke Frank at 6 –their flight was at 9- and was received with a somewhat lukewarm reception.
“Dude, you look like you have an anime character clinging to the back of your head.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Get up; we’re flying in three hours.”
Frank groaned and rolled over, burying his head in the pillow. Gerard seized the hem of the duvet and yanked it away. Frank growled in protest, but grudgingly got up and pulled a clean t-shirt over the menagerie of tattoos across his upper body.
Gerard tried not to stare.
Frank took another look at Gerard’s hair- pink and spiked in all directions.
“You’re such a pansy”
“Hey! I’m harder than a honey badger!”
“That has to be the gayest animal on earth, ever.”
“Actually, they’re pure evil. They eat the most poisonous ants ever and are just like “whatever guys” when those buggers kill everything else and they’re totally immune to wasp and bee stings and are generally invulnerable and immortal”
“Seriously, what’s with the hair?” asked Frank, feeling it wisest to change the topic.
“I felt like it”
“Okaay. When are we leaving?”
“Now. You packed?”
“Um, yeah. Can we stop for coffee?”
“Probably”
*
The airport was reasonable quiet, for the time of day, and it took only a moderate time to get through check in, and to the departures queue. The guy checking passports glanced at Frank’s and let him through, but stopped to scrutinise Gerard’s.
“This you?”
“Yup”
“You don’t much look like it.”
“It’s the hair. I got bored of black.” Gerard pulled his hair back from his forehead and gestured at the photo. “See?”
Grudgingly the official let him through.
“Could you be any more conspicuous?” hissed Frank.
Gerard shushed him.
*
The plane interior was much the same as any other: neutral blue carpeting and seat cushions, off-white plastic and over-made-up air hostesses.
Frank shifted in his seat and shook his fringe out of his eyes, already uncomfortable in the tight surroundings.
“So Frank,” said Gerard settling back, fingers interlaced behind his head, “how did you end up working for Bob? And what’s his puppy-mill like? I never went there.”
“Well,” Frank chewed on his lip ring, a habit Gerard had come to associate with anxiety. “I got in with some small time gangs at about 16, and a couple of years later Ray found me in a pool of my own blood after a fight with someone or other, and he brought me to the island.” Frank tugged up his t-shirt to reveal a small but knotted scar on the right side of his stomach.
“What’s it like there?”
“Little island in the Pacific; you’d expect it to be nice, like
“What happened to your pair?” asked Gerard, interested despite himself.
“Bullet in the back” said Frank quietly but matter-of-factly. “Only a week before I left; we were getting out from under some wire. I said it was safe.”
“Shit” was all Gerard could think of to say, and he patted Frank’s shoulder awkwardly, before shitting his eyes and intending to sleep.
“Oi” said Frank. “I told you something about me; now tell me how you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Get to sleep so damn easily”
“Oh. Get as comfy as you think you can, then shut your eyes and focus on your breathing, and then tense and relax all your muscles in return, starting with your toes, and then you just sorta drift off. It helps if you’re tired.” He finished speaking; eyes already closed and shut out the world. Frank glared at him, then shrugged. It had to be worth a try.
And, for the first time ever, Frank managed to sleep on a plane.
A/N: argh
Okay, so I was totally gonna get this out to you guys last Friday, but then I had to pack for
Anyway, people’s thoughts?
It might be a while before I can update again though, because in two days I’m starting Sixth Form, and those two days will likely be very busy, but I’ve kinda got the next chapter written, so it’s just a question of typing it up. Not sure when I’ll have time for that, but I promise to try.
I got 9 A*s, 2 As and a B (in Art) if anyone’s interested for those dreaded exam results J
I love you all.
boobookittifukk because without her this story would be even later (as i would still be writing it,) and she has sort of become my unofficial Beta. wingsandclawsA/N: Hey. *waves*
How is everyone?
Anyway, the idea for this story came a couple of days ago, when I was in bed with really, really cold feet, and then over the really long car journey (8 hours by my count) the next day, I wrote it.
Sadly, most of this did not happen to me :P I just got the cold feet part.
Anyway, enjoy!
Frank and Gerard lie quietly together in silence. Finally, Frank speaks up:
“Gerard, my toes are cold” he whines, and they are cold, even if this is not the best time to mention it. Gerard rolls onto his side and stares at him, chuckling softly. He shakes his head once, then rolls over again, presenting Frank with his pale back. In retaliation, Frank seizes him in a death-grip and presses his freezing feet into the hollow of Gerard’s knees.
Gerard squeals, but begins to laugh and reaches behind him to tickle Frank beneath the ribs. Frank yelps, and really, that’s a low blow, because Gerard knows how ticklish he is. He growls and tries to squirm away, and they roll over and over together until they tumble out of the bed completely.
Frank looks at Gerard with affront- after all, it’s he who broke their fall- but Gerard smiles that beautiful smile at him, and he is beautiful, though Frank never thought he could apply the word to a man, and Gerard plants a kiss on the end of his nose.
Frank looks at him again, and then kisses him back, because that’s the only thing to be done now, and about 30 seconds later when they break apart for air, Gerard looks straight at him and says
“Marry me”
Frank stares at him, trying to see if it’s some insane joke. It sure doesn’t look like it; in fact Gerard is staring at him with such hope that it might break Frank’s heart a little bit, and there’s nothing to be said but
“Um. Ok, yeah”
And then, because neither of them want to get up, they make love on the floor instead of the bed (even though it’s right there). And afterwards, as Frank lies quietly in Gerard’s arms, he sighs the sigh of perfect contentment, and thinks there’s no where else in the world he ever wants to be.
wingsandclawsChapter 9
When Frank didn’t return that day, Gerard wasn’t worried; after his first kill he’d laughed, cried, panicked, drunk himself into oblivion and finally woken up on a sullied mattress in a shabby hotel in Rio, with a calling card left on the nightstand left by what he could only assume was a male prostitute. He still couldn’t recall anything from that twelve hour time period.
To pass the time, he installed himself in front of the small hotel room TV and switched to a news channel. The death of Mr Takanawa was pushed to item five, after two wars, a peace summit and a rise in local knife crime. It was reported to be “sudden, but appearing to be of natural causes, and the death was not being treated as suspicious”
Gerard was jubilant, not least because now he would get paid, and maybe Bob would let him some time off to spend most of his paycheck.
*
Frank stumbled back into the hotel room mid afternoon the next day, hungover with bloodshot eye and lank hair, smelling of beer, cigarettes and old sex. Seeing him, Gerard grinned and bounded over.
“Did Fwankie finally get some?” he lisped, throwing himself onto the single bed, stomach-down, resting his head on balled fists and kicking his feet like a teenage girl. “So tell me Fwankie” he warbled, at least an octave above his own pitch, “was it special, that first time? Was it just how you always imagined?”
Frank’s fuddled brain finally grasped what Gerard was implying. Unable to quite construct a cutting reply, he resorted to retorting:
“Just because you haven’t got there yet, doesn’t mean we all wait that long.” He stumbled across to the unoccupied bed and fell face forward, asleep.
Gerard took a moment to smile and brush a lock from Frank’s forehead.
If he wakes up now you’re screwed said a small voice in his head.
His cell phone rang loudly; Gerard jumped back and searched his pockets for it, swearing softly.
“Hey”
“It’s Bob”
“Bobbert! How nice to hear from you. I trust you heard about our success?” Bob had news channels from around the world on 24/7.
“Of course. There’s a nice healthy cash sum just waiting for you on my desk. And a nice long leave of absence to spend it in.”
“You read my mind. We’ll be back in a couple of days, just as soon as I can rouse Frank from his comatose-hangover state.”
“Oh yes. How did he take it?”
“Well, considering.”
“Considering?” Gerard could actually feel the raised eyebrows that accompanied the question.
“Um… I kinda just held the guy down for him- you said it had to look natural, so we injected him with potassium, and you know what I’m like with needles!”
Bob sighed the sigh of long sufferance.
“Call me when you get back,” he growled, then hung up.
Gerard called the airline company next- effortlessly switching languages- and booked their flights for the following evening, figuring that gave him time to pack and Frank time to get over his hangover.
He bobbed back into the hotel room and placed a bin (thankfully without holes) next to the bed in case Frank felt like throwing up- Gerard sure as hell wasn’t paying for cleaning bills- and, as an afterthought, filled a glass of water and left it on the bedside table.
*
Frank woke up the next morning, about
“There’s a bin to be sick in. Get it on the carpet and you’re paying,” said Gerard from the end of his bed, painting his toenails. Frank sat up and spewed spectacularly into the bin. Gerard wrinkled his nose and gestured to the glass.
“Drink. I’ll see if I can get you some coffee,” he stood up as he was talking and left, barefoot.
Gulping the water, Frank stumbled towards the bathroom and threw himself under the binding hot jets of the shower. He managed to eradicate the stale smell and wash his hair without moving his head too much, before stepping out, grabbing a towel and dry-retching into the toilet. He pulled on some jeans and flopped back onto the bed looking decidedly green.
Ten minutes later Gerard returned to the room with two cardboard cups of coffee. Handing one to Frank he sat down again and began to drink his own. Frank fixed him with a bloodshot gaze.
“Gerard”
“Mmm-hmm?”
“You’re being nice to me. Why are you being nice to me?”
“Well, I was gonna get coffee, and I thought you might need one. Plus, you owe me. 240 yen- I brought it to you, but ‘m not paying.
“Bastard”
Gerard’s phone buzzed into life and his ringtone- Dresden Dolls- made Frnak groan and clutch at his head. Gerard flipped it open.
“Gerard?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s Bob.”
“So soon? Did you miss me?”
“Not now. Things in
“Jared’s job?”
“I should’ve guessed Mikey would tell you. Yes, he’s gone, two days ago, s I’m sending you down there to find out what you can. I’ll pay you when you get back.”
“Look, I’m worried, of course I am, but I’m not sure I’m your best bet for espionage.”
“Jared is a valued member of our operation, and you will do as you are told,” growled Bob, “and in this case I’m sending you to look for him. Ray’s down there already, I want you to check in with him in two days. Get back to
“Why can’t you? It won’t sound any better coming from me.”
“You’ll tell him, or he won’t find out. Won’t he hate you more in the end, when he finds out you chose not to tell him?”
“God you’re manipulative. Fine, whatever. We’ll be back soon”
Click
Gerard closed his phone and swore loudly
“What’s the matter?” asked Frank
“Well, Jared’s gone AWOL, Mikey’ll be devastated- and I have to tell him- and we have to go to
“Oh”
“Anyway, get packed our flight’s tonight”
“What?”
Gerard ignored him.
a/n okay, so, this is quite a short chapter, but I’ll make up for it with an extra long chapter next time- this one is 3 ½ pages of my handwriting, and the next one is about 8.
Was it any good?
So, my ded. today goes to </a></b></a>jealousmess and</a></font></a>because they were the only two people who commented my last chapter, and made my week. You guys rock!
Particular thanks to Booboo, because she gave me some really kickass ideas for the next chapter.
A/N: OMG! I’m so sorry about being so long in updating for you guys!!
I’ve had massive block on this story, and I had huge inspiration for something else I’ve started to work on. It’s already 12 and a half pages of my small-ish handwriting.
Anyway
I am currently holidaying in the glamorous place of Cornwall- the sticky out bit in South West (or bottom left) of England. It’s raining. All the time. However, this means I only have access to my Dad’s laptop, as my nice desktop sits at home, waiting to welcome me back. So, I am typing this on an appalling laptop computer- that is how much I love you guys. I only get to check my emails once every four days!!
It’s that terrible here. And there’s no phone signal either.
I’m also like a cat-on-a-hot-tin-roof, as my GCSE (really, really important) exam results are out in two weeks. I keep having anxiety dreams about sixth form where I can’t find my shoes or timetable or room I’m supposed to be in.
Arrgh massively long A/N. Sorry
Anyway, and now, on to chapter 8!
Thanks to all those wonderful people who have stuck with me!!
Chapter 8
Three Days Later
“Is he paranoid?” asked Frank, in a lull of conversation. Gerard looked up from his coffee.
“Why?”
“I thought, considering the culture here and his line of business, Mr Takanawa has probably not had anyone try to kill him. Unless he’s paranoid, I’d guess security’s pretty lax. We could ambush him in the men’s room or something.”
“Men’s room? Wow Frankie,” Gerard snickered “I didn’t know you swung that way.”
Frank idly flicked a few droplets of coffee at him.
“Whatever, you’re just jealous because I though of it first.”
“Still, it’s… workable.” Gerard struggled for a moment over the almost-compliment. He didn’t like admitting he might have needed Frank’s help on this one.
“You got hold of some potassium then?” asked Frank. Gerard glared at him.
“Of course. I’ll find us a way in.” Gerard finished his coffee, threw a couple of notes on the table and stood up to leave.
“Hey, Gerard! I’ve not finished!” Gerard ignored him and strode out. “Fine, sure, whatever. I’ll see you back at the hotel” he finished to no-one in particular.
Frank wandered around the immediate area for several hours, as his command of the local language was still poor, and he didn’t fancy getting lost in an unfamiliar city.
*
Gerard found a quiet stretch of street and called Mikey, silently figuring out the time difference.
The line began to ring.
“…yeah?”
“Hey Mikes, how’re things?”
“They’re ok. Bob’s sent Jared to
“Yeah, that’s just like him. Actually, this is a good opportunity for me to talk to you about something I’ve been meaning to mention for some time. You have an awesome boyfriend”-
“I know that”
“That’s not quite my point. I mean, he’s in
“It would suck. But he is coming back. What’s your point?”
“Oh Mikes. How can you be so oblivious? Look, Jared adores you, but you do just ignore him.”
“I do not-”
“I public at least” he added hurriedly. “I have no wish to know about your private life. Only, with that damn palmtop being the most important thing in your life, something has to come second, and right now it’s Jared.
“I don’t want to do this over the phone, but if you let your computer run your life, he isn’t going to be in it very much longer. Just… I don’t know. Go out for a nice meal or something, and leave the palmtop at home for once. Your emails will still be there when you get back.”
“But-”
“Think about it. I gotta go Mikes. Talk later, yeah?”
“Ok, bye”
“Bye”
Click.
*
Gerard managed to get his hands on the schedules for Mr Takanawa and close associates, and made arrangements for he and Frank to be in the third floor men’s room between
On the day of the hit, using the fake passes Gerard had acquired, they made their way into the building. Gerard carried the syringe in a foam lined briefcase, 10 milligrams- enough to send anyone’s heart beating out of control. He was posing as an office worker- makeup to the minimum, soft ash grey suit and neutral expression. Frank’s ID stated he was a cleaner, so with a filthy glare at Gerard he fetched an idle cart and shuffled off down a corridor. Gerard followed him, assuming a business-like stride and hissed
“Look happier. Janitors here don’t glower without good reason” as he swept past, Frank stuck his middle finger up in reply, muttering threats and obscenities.
He mopped floors for the two hours between arriving and the appointed time, and finally, scowling, he made his way to the third floor bathroom. Gerard was already there, the briefcase safely propped up against the mirror, meticulously cleaning his fingernails before, inexplicably producing a nail-file, and absently beginning to pick at his cuticles.
“We” said Frank with an angry tone and a fierce gesture at his overalls, “are going to have a serious talk about this later.”
“But Frankie” pouted Gerard, “They look so good on you.”
Frank threw a sponge at his head. Gerard dodged lazily, managing to turn the movement into a casual checking of the time.
“Eugh. Needles,” he said conversationally.
“You’re afraid of needles?” asked Frank incredulously.
“What? You don’t have any irrational phobias?”
“’s perfectly rational” muttered Frank.
“What’s that?” Gerard sarcastically cupped a hand to his ear. “Didn’t hear ya there”
“Spiders, ok? I’m scared of spiders”
“Nancy” Gerard snickered. Frank glared and feinted at him with a mop.
The door swung open, stopping things from escalating, to admit a short, slightly bent man, nudging towards the winter of his life. His smart suit, however, and steely gaze showed he was a man accustomed to power. Rather unnecessarily Frank asked:
“Mr Takanawa?”
A sharp nod confirmed their suspicions and Gerard seized his wrists from behind, pressing his knee into the smaller man’s back to force him to the floor.
“Frank!” he yelped, struggling to keep both his balance and their target pinned. “Get the needle! Inject it into the jugular!”
Gerard managed to clamp his knees onto his victim’s arms, effectively immobilising them, while Frank fumbled with the syringe.
Eventually he was ready. Gerard held Takanawa’s head still, turned even whiter than usual and rolled dazedly off their unfortunate victim as soon as the deed was done, struggling uneasily to his feet. He took a few seconds to compose himself while Frank replaced the syringe and then handed the case to him. Frank knelt by the prone form, and checked his pulse- dangerously fast. He assumed a concerned expression, as if he had just discovered the body.
Gerard fled from the bathroom, calling for help, the emergency services, a doctor, anything! Predictably, large numbers of suited office workers clustered around, getting in peoples’ way and generally making the confusion worse. An official looking person elbowed Frank from in front of him, and Frank used it as an opportunity to slip away.
He was elated, and at the same time there seemed to be a black hole in his stomach. He’d killed someone. He’d killed someone.
And what’s more, he knew he’s do it again when ordered.
God I need a drink
Any thoughts for me guys?
Oh, and it'll take me a while to gte back to any of your comments. Please leave them for me though, as they rock my world!
Hey guys, I know, I know, it’s been forever since I updated, and I’m SORRY!
I’m a bad bad person. But so much STUFF has happened, and I feel compelled to share
Okay, so that’s my news, and now, on with the story (sorry for a rubbish chapter ^^)
EDIT: Oh, yeah, and you might want to go back and reread the last chapter since *I* forgot what the hell was going on, so I’m pretty sure you guys may have done J
Chapter 7
Frank didn’t like take off or landing- his ears always hurt like hell and he couldn’t help but remember the 80% of all air traffic accidents happen in those few heart pounding moments.
The inside of the plane wasn’t too bad, he had just enough leg room to flex his muscles when they grew stiff and overall sensation was that of enclosure; the seats packed tightly around their occupants and Frank could feel things pressing in from all sides. A small screen sat in the seat back in front of him, equipped with a console-like control, so far deactivated. An announcement came over the PA system, first in Japanese, then English, “Ladies and Gentlemen…”
Frank ignored it, focussing first on his seatbelt and then on untangling the bright red blanket that had wrapped itself around his ankles.
Gerard flew too often to fuss about things. He calmly fastened his seatbelt, tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Within twenty minutes he was asleep. Frank huffed moodily and checked the in-flight movies.
Crap, crap, crap...
He finally settled on Stardust, figuring something based on a graphic novel couldn’t be too bad.
The flight was just as tedious as Gerard had predicted, The meals were brought round, and each time there were no vegetarian meals left, so Frank was forced to eat his way around the meat pieces, glaring balefully at Gerard who grinned at him and said
“Well, if you had normal eating habits there wouldn’t be a problem would there?”
Finally after nine agonising hours of boredom and torment (about six hours in Gerard decided it would be more fun to throw the small pieces of foam, cannibalised from the pillow, at him than watch something on the screens) they arrived at Narita airport. Landing was predictably nerve-wracking; Frank had to resist the urge to grab Gerard’s hand for comfort. They queued some more to get through immigration, collect their baggage and escape through customs.
Outside the airport everything looked so different. Signs were all written in Kanji symbols above the English, the trees were just coming into the famed cherry blossom and the buds were all a delicate white, each tree like a larger version of a bonsai, distinctly foreign looking. Even the cars were different, much more square and boxy than their western counterparts.
Gerard walked purposely towards the bus stop, the directory covered in lettering. He peered intently at it, then checked his watch.
“Why bother? It’s not like you can read Japanese or anything”
Gerard looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
“I can, actually, or at least, two out of three to any proficiency.”
“What?”
“There are three alphabets, Kanji-the most common- Hiragana, and Katakana. The last one is least common, and I don’t know it that well.”
“Oh.” Frank wasn’t sure, but he had a feeling he’d just made an ass of himself.
“Luckily for us, there’s a bus in about twenty minutes that’ll take us hear the imperial palace. Only two metro stops from the hotel.”
“What’s it called again?”
“Sunshine City Prince Hotel”
“God”
“I didn’t name it”
Eventually, after a two hour bus journey and a hike through rush hour metro stations (The trains in
“C’mon Frankie, floor 33. You can sleep there.” Frank mumbled an incoherent reply, stumbled to his feet and slouched to the elevator. A little old woman held the door open for them. Gerard smiled and nodded his head at her, and said
“Oregatugosaimas.” She nodded in return, approval crinkling around her eyes. Frank ignored this and simply asked:
“Why are you so damn perky?”
“I slept on the plane,” said Gerard simply.
Frank had almost drifted off, rocking backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet, when the doors pinged open and they strode out onto their floor, their room at the end of a thin, dim corridor. Motion sensors tripped the lights and, blinking, they made their way to the room. Frank promptly lay down and fell asleep fully clothed on the blanket.
When he awoke he found a note taped to the mirror:
Hey Frankie
I’ve gone for a look around, back in three hours or so. I’ve taken the only room key, so you’re staying there if you want to get back in. Sorry.
See you later
Gerard
XX
Frank groaned, and took in his bedraggled appearance- dark hair on one side of his head stuck straight up; his eyeliner had smudged, and beneath that sat thick purple shadows. He looked at the clock; 11:30 pm. Since he had no idea when Gerard had left, or even what time his body clock thought it was, he decided not to bother waiting up. Pulling off his shoes, Frank struggled out of his hoodie and crawled under the duvet.
*
Gerard sat in a small smoky bar, relishing a cigarette. The room was dark, a little, barely raised stage in an alcove, old tea sacking with stencilled letters on the walls. He spoke animatedly to the dreadlocked man behind the bar itself. After a while he made some excuse and left to wander. He came across a tiny garden in the midst of several roads, and he ventured in. It was empty, the perfect time and place to meditate on his hit. Preparation was everything.
Potassium, he decided, was his best bet. It was essential in small doses to human survival, to keep the heart regular, but enough would push the muscle cells into overdrive, causing even the healthiest person to suffer a fatal cardiac arrest. And the best part was that this guy would need less than average to push him over the edge, due to his weak heart. People would simply think he’d had one too many bananas recently. At least until he had left the country.
So now, few problems remained: he had a contact here who could easily get him some on short notice, the only issue was how to get the stuff into Mr Takanawa. Potassium was highly reactive, and he’d need more than could reasonably be hidden in food. It would have to be injected, and therein lay the problem. How to get close enough without being caught? He pondered, then gave up and sauntered back to the hotel. As he wandered down a brightly lit street, a man dressed as Hello Kitty handed him a promotional pack of tissues. Gerard smirked as he saw the man’s collar and tie above the neckline of the costume. So you really do have to wear a suit to do anything here.
*
Frank was asleep when he returned to the hotel, curled adorably around the duvet. Gerard smiled at him then shrugged out of his long coat- the city could be cold at night, especially in spring- took off his shoes and padded into the small bathroom.
The bed, when he finally climbed in was comfortable; the sheets crisp and clean, and as his stretched out he was forced to stifle a groan as his vertebrae cracked, and he curled his toes in pleasure. Sleeping upright on a plane played hell with his back.
I’ll ask Frank tomorrow if he has any ideas mused Gerard sleepily, with a last fond look at the prone form on the other bed. He drifted off to sleep with the image of Frank still swimming in his vision.
A/N: so yeah, I’m not so sure about this, and it was so fucking difficult to write. Just because of the block. Anyway, if anyone can think of a way they COULD get to Takanawa, that would be great, as I for one have not a clue.
Oh yeah, and “Oregatugosaimas” is a formal thank you, used to honour someone, or address your superiors. Normally you just say “Oregatu”
A/N: Yeah, so I know that in this fic, sometimes people don’t use normal word order, and things could be slightly out of sync. I wrote this to a specific song (link below) that you really have to listen to while reading before it all makes much sense. As I said, it fits very closely with this song, so it all depends on your reading speed, but if you insert a couple of pauses in here or there I think it will all work out ok.
Comments are love, particularly as I’ve never written something like this before.
Linkà http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_IWKkErcL
Okay, so this is a lion king video, but the song’s still there.
“I’m sorry Mikey” said Frank softly, leaning over the table to grasp his boyfriend’s hand. “I can’t be with you anymore”
Mikey’s eyes widened in shock, he drew away from Frank’s touch.
“Why?”
“Because… I love Gerard, and he loves me. It wouldn’t be fair to pretend otherwise.”
*
Mikey pushed his chair back abruptly, the sound scraping loudly across the tiles. He fled to the lounge and Frank followed him. Gerard sat uneasily on the sofa and stood quickly as Mikey appeared in the doorway. Frank scooted past him into the room.
“Does he know?” asked Gerard softly. Frank nodded and took his lover’s hand. Mikey stared at them. It all made sense now. The way Gerard and Frank were around each other, softly spoken, sharing secret smiles and glances. They were just friends. They were lovers. When had it all started? That weekend he’d been away? Earlier than that? Maybe it had gone on longer. Maybe it’d been happening all along.
Then Mikey knew. He knew that Frank had never really loved him, never been his whole self. Never bared his soul.
“Why?” he asked softly, voice rasping.
“Mikey, you’re my brother, and I love you but. I just. I don’t know. Don’t hate me, but we couldn’t help ourselves. We love each other, and nothing can take that away from us. I wish it wasn’t so, that I didn’t love him this way; that he didn’t love me. It’s the last thing we wanted.”
Mikey was shaking slightly, perceptible only in the minute trembling of his fingertips, the tiny fluttering of his lashes.
“This was our home!” said Gerard quickly, “Our parents’ house, our childhood home, and it tortures my soul to do this to you, to see you suffer so innocently here for our selfishness.”
Mikey seemed to compose himself, his face draining of all softer emotion, and anger painted itself across his fine features. Frank shrank away from the ferocity of the glare, glancing quickly at Gerard, then at Mikey. The air crackled.
Mikey looked at them; really looked and saw them properly, how real and how right they looked, fingers intertwined as if God had made them that way. They belonged, and the realisation clutched at his heart like a vice.
“You’re my brother said Gerard again desperately, “Can’t you see? If there were another way, I’d take it. We both would. But there isn’t, and I can’t.” Mikey met Gerard’s eyes, tired and full of anguish. There were lines around them, new lines, and purple shadows. This decision had cost him.
“It has to be like this,” said Frank honestly. “It cannot be otherwise.”
“It has to be like this” echoed Gerard, as much to himself as Mikey.
“You were my brother. Why do you hate me so much to do this? Is this what you wanted? Those words are empty Gerard. If you truly loved me, you would not do this. But, what’s done is done. I harden my heart to you; to both of you. Whatever happens, it will be this way.
“I will never let this cruel deed go.”
“But Mikey! I didn’t want for it to be this way, please-!”
“I will not let this betrayal go”
Yeah, okay, weird, but did people like it?
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/">This is a link to Youtube</a>
[URL=http://wingsandclaws.livejournal.co
Chapter 6
Mikey and Jared finished their week’s leave at the same time as Frank and Gerard, so they shared a cab to the offices. Frank spoke up about something that had been bothering him a while.
“So, what? Is everyone who works for Bob gay?”
“Hm?” this was Mikey, not glancing up from his mini computer
“Well, there’s you guys, and then Gerard- you don’t hide it well-”
“Hey!”
“Dude, you made me go shopping. So yeah, the only straight guys I’ve met are Bob himself and Ray.” A smile ran across the faces of the others. “What?” he asked cautiously.
“Dude,” said Jared “Don’t be so sure.”
“Yeah, they had a thing going for years” laughed Gerard.
“What about you Frank?” asked Mikey
“I’m straight,” said frank flatly.
“Shame,” muttered Jared. Mikey jabbed him in the side with a pointy elbow. “Ow. So, what’ve you guys been up to this week? Apart from shopping.”
“Gerard made me go to the theatre,” said Frank disgustedly.
“Yeah, that’s very like him,” laughed Mikey. “He used to make me go with him when he couldn’t get a date.”
The cab pulled up to the curb. Gerard leaned forward to pay the driver, as the others scrambled out of the back seat.
“Hey, I’m trusted enough to be allowed in the front entrance!” crowed Frank, pleased that this time, no-one was hitting him over the head.
The building itself was tall, modern and imposing, a huge construct of glass and steel, covered in blindingly reflective windows.
They bustled up to one of the higher floors- a full thirty seconds in the direct elevator. Bob was waiting for Gerard and Frank; Mikey and Jared left to amuse themselves. Mikey sat down and flipped open his palmtop and Jared contented himself with reclining across three chairs, head in the crook of Mikey’s neck, occasionally nipping his earlobe. Mikey steadfastly ignored him. Gerard stifled a laugh, composed his features and stepped into Bob’s office. It was large and the desk was huge, ornate. It dominated the room, drew the eye and reminded you of your insignificance in the grand scheme of things. Or perhaps thought Frank, that’s just wishful thinking.
“Please take a seat” said Bob calmly from his chair at the desk, the panoramic window behind him framing his figure with the majestic backdrop of the city. Frank obediently slid into one of the leather seats, Gerard stayed defiantly standing.
“It’s been a week. How d’you think you got on?”
“Well enough” muttered Gerard
“I think Gerard’s a prick” said Frank plainly. Gerard stared at him, and Bob gave a sudden bellowing bark of laughter.
“All seems to have gone as I expected it to then,” remarked Bob, “besides, a job’s come up,”
“Oh yeah?” Gerard perked, looking up with real interest in his eyes.
“Yes. You’re to hit the head of a pharmaceutical company that’s just about to patent a new painkiller. It will make them millions.”
“So?” asked Frank, a brief look of confusion flitting across his face.
“Our client is also on the verge of this discovery, if slightly behind.”
“On the verge of discovery, or about to pilfer the secret from someone else?” smirked Gerard.
“Well, quite. Without a chairman things will slow down, patent requests will be put on hold while the red tape is untangled. This will give our client the time he needs.”
“It’s neatly thought through I grant you. Where can I find him?” asked Gerard
“You two can easily seek him out at his company’s offices, a bit of a workaholic that one, unlike some I could mention.” Gerard brushed off the barb.
“And these offices are?”
“Downtown
“
“
“I know. Deal with it. These are your briefings on the target,” he handed them both a hefty file, then continued. “You will be posing as American businessmen attempting to sign a small deal with Mitsubishi. It’s a big enough corporation for your visit to get lost in the records, should immigration decide to check, which they won’t, as you’ll do nothing to attract their attention, got it? The client wants things to remain low profile, and the target is elderly with a heart condition- I am sure you will find a way to use this to your advantage. You fly tomorrow. Get some suits and for god’s sake Gerard loose the eyeliner. You’ll fly back into
Frank shrugged
“It seems like a good deal”
“How much are we being paid?” demanded Gerard.
“$100,000 each”
“Oh yeah? And how much are you taking in commission?”
“3”
“Done.” Gerard snapped his fingers “We’ll go now, unless you aren’t finished?”
“No. Send Jared in on your way out.” Bob gestured at them to leave; Frank shook his hand, Gerard walked out without a backward glance. On the outside he nodded at Jared, who pressed a quick kiss to Mikey’s temple, got up and strode into Bob’s office. Gerard sat down next to Mikey and quietly closed the palmtop.
“Hey!”
“Look, man,” Gerard’s voice was low and frank stood awkwardly in a corner, feeling something sensitive was to be divulged. “Would it hurt you to show his some affection once in a while?”
“But I-”
“Just think about it. Alright, c’mon Frankie, we’ve got clothes to buy.”
“You’re fucking kidding me!”
“Nuh-uh, Bob said we’re going as businessmen, and that means suits!”
“Oh Christ”
“Oh yes.” Gerard grabbed his arm and dragged him to the elevator. “We’re gonna go to Armani and Prada and…”Gerard buzzed happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Frank resisted the urge to groan. “Oh, and we have to get something done about your hair.” Frank’s hands flew protectively to his head
“What about my hair?” he asked suspiciously
“We’re high-class businessmen Frankie, we don’t have hair like your. And nor do we wear makeup or have piercings for that matter. Clear?”
“I- but- yeah, okay Gerard.”
The doors pinged open and Gerard bobbed out, glided through the doors and in seconds was hanging off the curb with his arm outstretched, Frank in dutiful tow.
They managed, finally, to get their suits- Soft Ash Grey for Gerard, Matte Black for Frank- and came to a sticking point about Frank’s hair.
“I’m not getting it cut! I won’t!”
“Then how will you pass as a businessman Frank?”
“Hey, you have to wear suits to do anything in
“I’ll make you a deal then, loose the piercings and I’ll let you keep the hair.”
“Fine”
*
The next day they caught yet another cab to
A/N: Yay! Update sooner than expected!
This is ded.ed to x_noelian_x since she *might* make me her beta! Which would be awesome! Also she totally ded.ed me this completely cute chapter etc.etc.
Yes I lied
They aren’t really bombshells, just the admittance that Frank (thinks he’s) straight and Bob and Ray used to have a thing (watch this space!)
Well, that’s all for now
byeee
Chapter 5
Feeling quite acutely embarrassed, Gerard skipped showering and got dressed- today it was a tight black t-shirt, plain, black jeans and his favourite goth boots. He took an eyeliner pencil from a pocket, wandered over to the mirror and carefully applied several layers.
Frank emerged from the bathroom as he did so, towel wrapped around his waist, revealing a myriad of tattoos. Gerard stole a glance at him in the glass; his hair was soaked, slicked straight with a couple of locks stuck to his forehead. Frank, oblivious, padded across the room, collected some clothes and then stalked gracefully back into the bathroom. Everything about his posture said he was still mad, but Gerard stared anyway- he couldn’t help it, he shouldn’t and he knew that but it was so damn hard to tear his eyes away. To distract himself he flipped his phone open and stepped out into the corridor to call Mikey.
“Huh?”
“Mikes, it’s me.”
“Oh, hey Gee. Gimme a sec, I’m gonna put you on speaker. There, go.”
“Well, I don’t know how the fuck it happened, but I woke up in Frank’s bed this morning.”
“Dude! Score, what the hell are you still talking to me for?!”
“Not like that! I was just so drunk I got into the wrong bed and he woke up first and- hey! Stop laughing- and, fuck, Jared why are you listening in, don’t think I can’t hear you! It’s not funny! Look whatever, get breakfast we’ll meet you somewhere, since you guys want to meet him so much. Pick somewhere.”
“How ‘bout the MET?”
“An art gallery? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No”
“Okay, whatever. I’ll see you there. Bye”
Click.
Gerard stuck his head back round the door. Frank glared at him.
“Look, Frank, I know you’re mad, but it was a simple drunk mistake. We’ll get breakfast and then we’re meeting my brother and his boyfriend- Mikey and Jared- at the MET.”
*
The week went by reasonably uneventfully after that. Gerard insisted that Frank buy some new clothes- “I mean, really, where the hell have you been these past two years?”
“On a rock in the middle of the Pacific fucking ocean!”
“Oh yeah. Sorry I forgot”- They met up with Mikey and Jared a couple of times but at the moment they were everything Gerard hated about the Central-Park-couples. They were going through what Jared liked to call their “second honeymoon” despite the fact that they weren’t actually married, and that Mikes definitely loved his computer more.
Gerard followed their advice, and tried not to be so harsh to Frank, who seemed not to think he was a total dick anymore. On the whole they co-existed peacefully enough until finally, the night before they were due to meet Bob again, Gerard voiced an opinion.
“We should go to the theatre.”
“What?”
“C’mon, we’re young and in love and in
“Gerard. We’re not in love.”
“Fine. We’re young and not in love and in
“Not really no. What would we go see?”
“Um… Cats, Wicked,
“You’re mad” laughed Frank, but Gerard looked so crestfallen he gave in. “Alright. You pick something.”
“Well, what’ve you seen, musicals wise?”
“Nothin’”
“Nothing!” Gerard’s voice shot up about an octave. “You being serious?”
“Hey. I grew up in
“Still, I mean. Eesh. Okay, so nothing too dark… that’s Sweeney Todd out… nothing too weird either, so that’s Cats, okay, Wicked,
“What’re they about?”
“
“Right.”
“And Phantom- The Phantom of the Opera- is about this disfigured musical genius who haunts this opera house in France and falls in love with this young soprano only-"
“Okay, okay. This Phantom thing is clearly your favourite. And it doesn’t sound that bad. So I guess I pick that one.”
“Awesome!” Gerard ran out of the room, dialing madly.
“Dude, you know the box office number be heart? What the fuck, man?” Gerard ignored him.
“Yeah, yeah. Hi. So I was wondering, you got a couple of seats free for tonight’s performance?” Frank stopped listening, already bored and instead stared at the ceiling. Oh my God. A fucking theatre- a musical. This guy is such a pansy. How the hell did he end up working for Bob?
Gerard stuck his head back round the door.
“Hey, we got seats! Get ready, the thing starts in an hour.”
“Yeah, ok,” mumbled Frank. “This is going to be so lame.”
*
Gerard didn’t really watch the show; not so much as he watched Frank- it was almost endearing, his reactions. Frank jumped in all the right places- when the chandelier swings across the stalls, when the Phantom appears at the top of the auditorium to demand “Did I not instruct that box five was to be kept empty?”
The lights flooded back on for the interval and Frank looked at him.
“Dude, this is, I mean-”
“I know. It’s awesome.”
“Yeah, whatever. Lets just go get something to drink.”
“Aww Frankie.” Said Gerard, allowing some sarcasm back into his voice. “Not so crap now is it?”
“You were right, whatever. I’m going for a beer.”
A/N: And, from the Wood Work- She Appears!
*waves*
Hi people, it’s been a while I know, but exams and stuff. :P
I still have three week after this, but this week is half term, so I thought I’d treat you all.
Did you enjoy it?
So yeah. Comments, as usual, are love (actually, they drive my self-esteem)
I love you all.
EDIT: This fic is dedecated to everyone who stuck with me on this admittedly wierd story, to everyone who offered advice and support.
i need it right now
so thank you, and i love you.
Chapter 4
They left the dojo without any further incident, and by six in the evening they had found a suitable hotel, one room between them, but spacious, with two queen size beds and a shared en suite.
“Go get your stuff from where ever you were staying; I’ve got people to meet. Don’t wait up.” Before Frank could reply, Gerard had left. He rolled his eyes, grabbed his key and followed suit. It was an hour before Frank got to his hotel, and it took him a further two hours to gather his things and attempt to remove the angry lipstick message on the wall above the bed- You son of a bitch! If I ever fucking see you again it will be too soon. I hope you burn in hell!
He gave up in the end, settled his bill and went back to the new hotel. He glanced at his watch as he dumped his clothes on the bed. 11:00. He had time for a drink.
*
Gerard sat in a crowded club by the bar, giggling. Mikey sat next to him, calmly sipping his fourth pint, eyes firmly on the open palmtop in front of him, a dark haired guy sat on Mikey’s other side, Peroni in one hand and the other draped over Mikes’ shoulders, playing with his hair.
“I’m telling you, it’s a fucking joke,” bemoaned Gerard, “Bob’s got some fucking kid for me to train, I mean, what does he think I am? A performing monkey?” A blip on the screen flashed, and Mikey peered at it interestedly. Gerard gestured drunkenly across him with his whiskey. “It’s a fucking liberty, but, you know what? That Frank kid, he’s pretty hot.”
“Really? I think I want to meet him,” grinned the dark haired guy, slightly more soberly. Mikey absently elbowed him in the ribs, still engrossed in his computer.
“Oi, Jared you greedy git, you’ve already got me. Who else could you possibly need?” Jared winked at him.
“Well, it depends on how attractive this Frank guy is- ow!” Mikey slapped him on the arm. “So. Anyway, tell me about him, what’s he like, apart from gorgeous? I’m all interested, and Mikes is too, he’s just too busy being an internet junkie.”
“Hey!”
“Well, he’s kinda short, but it suits him, and his hair sorta flops in his eyes. A little bit like yours I suppose. And his eyes, they’re like, this awesome hazel-y brown, and his has loads of tattoos…” Gerard tailed off, having a private misty-eyes moment.
“Tattoos? Ooh, describe!”
“Um, he’s got Halloween on his knuckles, and a scorpion on his neck.”
“You do realise I have to meet this kid, right?”
“Mmm”
“Is he nice? As a person I mean.”
“Well, yeah. I think he thinks I’m a prick though.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I’ve been ragging on him. Well, treating him like shit actually. Taking the piss of his height and stuff.”
“Oh, Gerard, you stupid, heartless fuck. The poor boy’s been left in your care. I bet he’s fucking terrified of you. And, dude, if he likes you, he definitely thinks you don’t like him.”
“Jared, baby, tell me something,” asked Mikey, barely glancing up from the screen. “With a soft streak like that how the hell did you end up working for Bob?”
“By being a heartless bastard when I need to.”
“I’ll drink to that,” mumbles Gerard, downing the last dregs of his drink.
*
Frank woke reasonably early. He lay still for a moment or two, savouring the absence of shouting or ringing phones and then he realised there was a gentle pressure across his side. He looked over his shoulder, straight into Gerard’s sleeping face.
“What the fuck?!” he shrieked, rolling over once, twice, then falling out of the bed, hitting his head on the cabinet for good measure. Gerard had barely stirred, so Frank got up and kicked him. Gerard choked into consciousness, coughing up strings of swears and threats.
“What the fuck, short ass? What the hell was that about?”
“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?”
“This is my bed!”
“No it’s not! The other one is yours. And even if this one was, once you got back here and saw I was asleep, why the fuck didn’t you just take the other?” Frank passed a hand over his eyes and sighed. “You know what? I don’t fucking care. You’re just a drunk. I don’t understand why Bob and Ray think so highly of you.”
Leaving Gerard looking blank, Frank turned and headed into the bathroom. Gerard could hear the sound of the shower and called out.
“Hey! How come you shower so much? You OCD or something?”
“Nope, I just gotta wash the scent of you off me, or I’ll get nauseous later,” Frank yelled back in sarcastic-sweet tones.
Oh. Thought Gerard.
--------------------------------------
A/N okay, that was chapter 4. Do people like? I’ll get on to writing five.
Two things today, what musical are Frank and Gerard going to see? (its Gerard’s choice, btw)
Suggestions so far- Cats, Phantom, Wicked and Rocky Horror (though I wouldn’t do it justice :P)
Oh, yeah
And I need someone to teach me hyperlinks or LJ cuts or SOMETHING
Thanks J
Chapter 3
Gerard shrugged.
“Alright. C’mon Frankie” After a long rambling walk they arrived at the outside world. “Okay Frankie, where do you want to go?”
“Um. Do we have to go anywhere?”
“Hey, Ray said I have to get to know you- and only then will I get to kill you off in an unfortunate accident.” Gerard smirked. “So, you meet someone new, where d’you take them?”
“Uh… the cinema I guess. Or some shit.”
“No, no you aren’t thinking big enough. I got it! The Dojo!”
Frank blanched.
“But, I’m kinda hung over. I’m not sure a dojo would quite agree with me right now.”
“Nonsense. Exercise is just what you need.” Gerard grabbed Frank’s arm and dragged him off in the direction of the nearest metro stop. The underground was, as per usual, stifling and overcrowded, they had to change twice, and then wait out 12 stops before they got there.
The dojo, when they finally arrived looked like every other sports complex, modern and western; inside however, they took their shoes off at the door and walked barefoot over the tatami mats.
Gerard led Frank to the locker room, took out a key and unlocked one; inside hung a Giko Karate suit, with a black belt tie and red facings.
“I did have one that shrunk in the wash,” said Gerard with a sneer, “but I threw it out last week. You’ll have to borrow one. Front desk’s that way.” Frank scowled but walked off in the direction indicated. After five minutes of wandering he concluded he must be lost and stopped to ask someone. To his dismay he was directed back the way he came. Frowning, he finally found the rental desk right next to the locker room. As quick as he could, Frank got a spare his size and re-entered the changing room. Gerard stood in the middle, stunning in his white garb, and smirking.
“Twat. You gave me the wrong directions.”
“Get over it. Or beat the shit out of me later. I don’t care either way.”
Frank slipped into a tiny cubicle and hastily began to change. Gerard lounged against the door making snide comments.
“Hey, Frank, you must feel right at home. These cubicles are just made for people your size.” Frank ignored him, and instead focussed his anger on the neutral white belt he had been given.
After five minutes, and six more barbed comments they made it back out on to the mats: Frank easily falling into an Aikido stance (it was, after all, his first and favoured discipline), and Gerard a Tae Kwondo upper block.
“Okay little man, show me what you got”
Frank sprang forward, executed a rapid snap-kick; Gerard easily deflected with lower block and a hook. Frank fastened a grip on his wrist and executed a powerful Jujitsu throw; Gerard tumbled gracefully through the air, broke fell smoothly and sprang up in a series of simple, flowing movements.
They fought on and on, frank taking more hits because of his throbbing head and fading hangover; after an hour his battered limbs were beginning to stiffen and his eyes to droop- he blocked and parried; giving ground but never attacking, until finally, as if totally bored by the whole thing Gerard grabbed Frank’s arm twisted and suddenly Frank was down hard on the tatami. Gerard knelt (one knee in the small of Frank’s back) and ruffled his hair.
“Not bad, short stuff, c’mon we’ll get showers and then find a hotel.” He got up. Making no move to help Frank, he walked back towards the exit, slipping his jacket off as he did so. Frank struggled up, and paused for a second, looking at Gerard’s shoulders, pale with tiny tracks of sweat, muscles moving gently beneath the skin. Frank shook himself, glared and followed. Gerard handed him a towel.
“Here. They got shampoo and soap in the showers.” Thinking that perhaps he had been forgiven for whatever it was that he had done, Frank gratefully took it and sloped off to the cubicles. The pounding hot water felt good on his tired body, but, over the rushing roar of the jets, Gerard’s mocking voice drifted with the steam from three cubicles down.
“Can ickle Fwankie reach the shower controls? Does he need Uncle Gerard to come press it for him?”
“Fuck you,” Frank mentally double checked the lock. Gerard snickered.
“Wouldn’t you like to.”
No comment thought Frank sourly.
----------------------------------------
A/N: so yeah, now i've got a title and a role for Mikey, w00p!
anyway, a couple of things in case people didn't know them: A dojo is a classy place to practice a martial art; sort of like a gym but for martial arts, Aikido, Tae Kwondo and Jujitsu are all different martial arts. It is very unusual to fight with a combination, i just did so for the sake of the story.
yeah
anyway, comments are love, as always
Chapter 2
Ray drove Frank to a deserted multi-story car park, and gruffly instructed him to get out. Frank complied, bemused. Surely this isn’t where we’re meeting the new guy? He mused. Ray walked towards him, sank a fist into Frank’s stomach and as he doubled over in shock, zipped a black hood over his head. The whole procedure took all of three seconds. Ray cracked him across the temple once more for good measure, dropping him. It took a further two seconds to snap plastic ties round his wrists and then bundle him into the back of the car. Ray drove off towards the head office.
*
The hood was ripped from his head and Frank gasped at the sudden light, blinking and squinting in the intensity of it.
“Where the hell am I?” A dark purple bruise was blooming on his head, and Ray had no doubt another, equally painful on his stomach. With quick, deft movements he sliced Frank’s bonds, leaving the latter frantically trying to rub the feeling back into his hands. Bob stepped into the room
“This is him?” he asked, shooting a glance at Ray, who nodded. Bob shifted his eyes back to the young man in front of him.
And young he was; quite short and slight. Brown hair flopped into his eyes, but he made no motion to remove it. Bob could see a scorpion tattooed to his neck. Bob stuck out a hand, Frank reluctantly took it, and Bob hauled him upright.
“Sorry about the cloak and dagger affair: I have to be careful. A man in my position must take precautions, you understand.”
Frank nodded distractedly, worrying his lip-ring, clearly dying to speak. “Go on” nodded Bob.
“Well- sir- you aren’t going to teach me, are you? Because, no offence, but you don’t look much like a killer to me.” Frank’s posture had become straighter as he spoke, shoulders back; head held high, he was definitely more confident. Behind him Ray broke into silent hysterics. Bob had ordered more deaths than Frank had years.
“No. Gerard will teach you; you’ll meet him in an hour or so.” Frank opened his mouth to speak, but Bob held up a hand and forestalled him. “Don’t antagonise him, he hates you already.” Bob had said his piece, and quickly turned and left the room, busy with a thousand other things.
Ray looked at Frank a second.
“Kid, you got balls”
“What?”
“I seen bigger men than you cowed by Bob.”
Frank shrugged
“So what’s the deal with this Gerard guy? And when do I get to meet him?”
“His deal? He hates everyone. Except, maybe his little brother. You’ll meet him soon enough. I bet Bob’s busy shouting at him. His kicked up a fuss when he had to take you on. Didn’t want a tag-along”
*
Gerard was sitting on a bench in
His mobile suddenly flared to life; he flipped it open and answered.
“Hey”
“Gerard”
“Yeah?”
“Get to the office. Right now.”
“Aww, Bob, I was there already. Why the hell didn’t you tell me then?”
“There’s someone here for you to meet.”
“Ooh, now I’m all intrigued” sneered Gerard.
“Just get your ass here in the next hour.”
Gerard sighed, rolled his eyes and closed his phone.
*
Duly, he was there within the hour; forced to wait an extra thirty minutes (a sure sign that Bob was mad at him) and eventually ushered through. He took one look at Frank, and laughed aloud.
“Hey, Ray, nice gag and all, but can I see my real underling now?”
Frank leapt to his feet, snarling.
“This is your kid”
“Wait, what? C’mon man, you could at least have got me someone over age. I bet this one can’t even get into bars”
“Hey! Fucking leave my height out of this!” growled Frank, staring the taller man down. Ray stepped forward.
“Back down fuckers!” he bawled. “I said back down dammit!” He threw a fast palm-strike at both of the, and in their preoccupation to block, the stepped back and broke eye contact.
“Well,” he started, out of drill-mode again, “I think it’s time you two got better equated. Frank you will go with Gerard and do everything he instructs. Gerard, I want him back here in a week, in one piece and alive. Aside from that I really don’t care. That’s when Bob’s sending you out on your first dual hit”- he held up a hand at their protests “and no buts!”
----------------------------------------
a/n maybe more over the long weekend, but subject to change
Hello everyone. okay, i got a couple of people to mention. Firstly, my amazing friend Fio for reading this for me, and also for x_noelian_x because she is awesome; deserved a ded. and also inspired me to write this by discussing it with me yesterday :P
Enjoy!
Gerard flung his hands down and swung round in characteristic flamboyant style.
“But you don’t understand Bobert!” Shrieked Gerard, stamping one heavily-booted foot like a petulant child. “I don’t teach! I work alone, and I won’t have some young- puppy following me around. I won’t!” Bob stood still, arms folded, as Gerard tantrumed. At this last statement he raised one eyebrow.
“You do, and you did. Now you have Frank.”
“But- but-” stuttered Gerard. Bob glared and he backed down. “Fine,” he muttered meekly, ducking his head and flouncing out.
As the door slammed, Bob sat down at his desk and placed his fingertips together. It was odd, how many men had met their deaths at the hands of his strangely camp top assassin. Casting the thought aside, he coughed and busied himself with a few papers- recent sales of his satellite dishes. His legitimate business front.
Robert Bryar was a criminal- plain and simple. He had had an honest business to begin with, and still did, but as a younger man he had spotted a gap in the global market and, ever the entrepreneur, he had set about filling it- supplying competent, confident and impartial hit men. During the following years he had threatened, blackmailed and bullied his way to the front of his market. He was never short of custom; there was no end of drug barons and business kings with grudges. Even the odd terrorist or government official had contacted him during his time.
Five years ago Gerard had come to his attention. Young, smart and a loner, he was the perfect choice. The only issue was his stand-out appearance, and this fitted well; modern day assassins could blend in with a crowd. This ability to be seen meant he was never suspected. Yes, he was perfect, intelligent, and capable but with a diva streak a mile wide.
About an hour before Gerard was in his office, ranting and whining, Ray Toro had been to see him. He and Ray had been friends for years, and the latter managed the selecting and training of any new recruits. He was ex-SAS and with his bulky frame and drill sergeant manner he was enough to scare any young man shitless- and he frequently did. He was also fiercely loyal, as Bob had once saved his life, calmly providing him with false papers and extricating him from a sticky and potentially fatal situation in the
Bob had asked for the name of the most promising student, as he felt the time was right for Gerard to pass on some of his skills, and a name had been given: Frank Iero. And now that Gerard had begrudgingly agreed to take him on, Bob wanted to meet this Frank. He flicked out his cell phone- had he been calling anyone legit he would’ve buzzed the secretary to do so, but this was too important- Ray was four on his speed-dial, after Gerard, his chauffer and the local pizza place. He was answered the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Toro” Bob always spoke the same way when he called people. His number was privatised, and he switched mobiles every few days.
“Yes, boss?”
“Bring in the Iero kid. I want him in my office inside of an hour.”
“Yes boss.” Ray paused, uncertain, “How did he take it? Did he throw a fit like a Broadway actress?” Bob smiled, then answered
“As only he can. I’ll see you in an hour.”
Click
Ray grinned at his cell, flipped it shut and slid it into his pocket. He swung his feet off the hard hotel bed and started to lace us the army-surplus boots he always wore. They were uncommon, but no-one ever saw them beneath his baggy cameo trousers. He checked his watch- 11:00am. He called Frank.
*
This was Frank’s first morning in civilization for two years. He flew into
“Yeah?”
“Frank” Ray’s voice was loud in Frank’s head
“mm”
“Get up you lazy bastard.” Ray was using his best parade ground voice, slicing through Frank’s pain like a red hot poker. “You’re meeting your new teacher today. You have ten minutes to get yourself presentable, and then I’m coming for you.”
“T-ten minutes?” spluttered Frank. He passed a hand over his eyes. “Okay Toro. I’ll be there.” He terminated the call and rolled back over. His arm met someone else’s.
“What the fuck?”
Sleeping calmly on the other side of the bed, oblivious, was a girl with bleached blonde hair.
“Fuck” he repeated, the shrugged and padded- nude- to the en suite bathroom for a shower. “Oh, god I must have been drunk. What the hell was I thinking?” he questioned himself under the hot, blinding jets of water. “Jesus, my first fuck in two years and I can’t even remember it.”
Stepping out of the shower he shook his head sending droplets pattering down on the tiles. Wrapping a towel around his wait, he walked back into to room, now taking in the disarray of the night before. The woman stirred as Frank stooped to grab his boxers.
“Oh, hey, you’re awake. You’ve made a mistake; I’m not- I have to go. Please be gone when I get back.” She glared daggers of poison and hate at him, but he ignored her. Dressing quickly in black jeans and a Misfits tee he snatched his phone, checked his watch and ran from the room.
Ray was waiting.
----------------------------------------
a/n And so that was it; the first chapter.
do people like it? 'cause i'm not sure i'm gonna do more if you guys don't. Also, i'm really busy right now with exams looming (the first one is tomorrow- EEK!) but i'll try and get you a couple of chapters in.
so yeah
until next time
i love you all
Chapter 5
11:00 came and Mikey and Gerard stood patiently outside Frank’s lodgings. Gerard hastily straightened his collar and smoothed his fringe, catching himself at5 it and frowning with annoyance. Why he cared so much, he wasn’t sure, and eventually he attributed it to the impending presence of women. Of course. That was natural enough. The door swung open and they were admitted and ushered into a small parlour, tastefully decorated in traditional English style; a little out of date but pleasing to the eye at least.
Frank bounded to his feet as they entered copied more sedately by his two female counterparts. He rushed across to them and seized first Mikey’s hand and then Gerard’s causing a slight tremor down then latter’s spine. He ignored it. It was nothing. Introductions were made; neither girl was anything extraordinary either in looks or fortune. Neither would inherit anything upwards of three thousand pounds. Gerard greeted them cordially but coolly; Mikey was all smiles and charm as if seeking to make amends for his brother’s indifference.
“We must go,” informed Frank, buzzing with the thrill of good company and the promise of exercise.
Mikey drove the carriage, leaving Gerard and Frank sitting knee-to-knee opposite the two young ladies whose names eluded the former. Frank said something humorous to them and they tittered flirtatiously, Gerard felt a fierce stab of jealousy.
Frank had chosen the walk well; the horses could be left at a nearby inn, and gently rolling downs stretched before them.
The girls linked arms and set off, striding sedately forward. Mikey ambled after them, attempting to embroil himself in the conversation and finding himself hopelessly entangled by talk of bonnets and ribbons. Gerard and Frank brought up the rear, silent for the most part, occasionally exchanging a remark about the weather or the countryside; and once an observation that it was uncommon warm for November.
After about an hour one of the girls stopped and turned around.
“We think we should turn back now. I have had quite enough walking for one day.” Frank looked downhearted, but Mikey offered a suggestion.
“Perhaps, if you two wish to continue, I could escort the young ladies back to the inn where we could await you in reasonable comfort.” The plan was agreeable to all, and presently the three turned back. Just before they were out of earshot Gerard caught the ghost of a phrase
“Do you dance, Mr Way?”
“Women are so lucky, are they not?” remarked Frank. The answering silence stretched until he felt obliged to explain. “Look at them; arm in arm, innocent, not apprehended. Ignored, it seems normal. The world is much less forgiving to us” so saying Frank slipped his arm through Gerard’s. “The world condemns us,” he concluded quietly.
Gently Gerard pulled his arm free. Frank said nothing, and they began to walk as before.
*
When Gerard returned home his mind was still reeling. What was that today? Can he have meant what I thought he did? Gerard didn’t have the answers, but he fiercely ignored the nagging voice in the back of his mind that said he did know what Frank had meant. And hadn’t minded. No. It wasn’t true; he wasn’t like that. He was normal, natural and god fearing as any man should be. Frank was his friend nothing more.
Confused, upset and a little disturbed Gerard went to bed, wondering how he’d face Frank come the morrow; how he’d manage the winter in one house with him.
*
The day came for them to leave
“He doesn’t trust anyone else to do it” smiled Gerard.
“No” Mikey blushed, “I just… like driving.” Despite his flippant answer, Gerard was a little worried about being alone with Frank, he still was not sure of his feelings, and he was scared of anything more occurring. He wasn’t sure quite what had happened on the walk, but it kept returning to his head, a constant thought, often accompanied by flashes of inappropriate, and sometimes downright sinful, thoughts. He blushed as similar thoughts flooded his head when Frank’s knuckles grazed his thigh. Stop it he ordered himself. This could not- would not- happen.
*
They had been at Nettleford about a week, and things had returned to their companionable ways. Frank had been installed in a room two doors down from Gerard’s- He told himself he was just being a good host- and the days passed pleasantly enough. And then once, out of the blue, late at night when rank had long since retired, Mikey took Gerard’s arm and spoke in a quiet, urgent whisper as if the walls themselves could hear.
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Sometimes, when we are reading, or you play the pianoforte, he stares at you… It’s like he is trying to fix your image onto his eyelids forever. As if he’s dying of thirst, and you are the tall drink of water that can save him. I don’t know… but it scares me.” Gerard felt a tiny thrill in his chest at Mikey’s words, for he had not noticed Frank’s attention, but he quashed it quickly, and addressed the issue at hand. His features assuming a suitable solemn expression, Gerard began to placate him.
“I am sure it is nothing. You worry too much.” Gerard smiled, clasping Mikey in a brief, reassuring hug. “And actually, that was very elegantly spoken; have you been reading Byron again?”
The moment passed; Mikey smiled back, replied an embarrassed affirmative and they went their separate ways to bed.
*
The next morning at the breakfast table Frank expressed a desire to see the surrounding area. As he voiced this request, Mikey put down his papers and peered gently at Frank from beneath his fringe. The young man’s enthusiasm seemed genuine enough, and when he flashed a glance at his brother, Gerard too seemed more than happy to oblige. Mikey set his fork down and smiled. Gerard began to speak.
“I would be delighted, though I must warn you that there is precious little to see. Perhaps Mikey would care to accompany us?” Mikey placed two slender fingers to his temple and sighed softly.
“It would be my dearest wish, but I am afraid I feel a migraine approaching.” Gerard reached out and squeezed Mikey’s free hand affectionately, comfortingly, sympathetically.
“We will put it off until you are well enough to accompany us,” offered Frank, concern flickering in his eyes.
“No, no. I will be fine; I simply need to lie quietly in a darkened room. Besides, there is nothing I haven’t seen before”
After a few moments more of protest, they agreed and Mikey left them.
“Shall we walk or ride?” asked Gerard peaceably
“Oh! I am walked to death; let us ride.” exclaimed Frank.
Soon after they quitted the breakfast room, changed and met again by the stables.
Frank quickly swung himself into the saddle of a pretty black mare. Gerard ran an appreciative eye over the younger man’s leg, caught himself doing so and frowned as he climbed into the saddle of his own bay gelding. The two horses whickered companionably to one another as they drew level.
“Shall we?” asked Gerard, and with an answering nod and smile they clattered from the courtyard and away into the hills.
*
Two hours later, atop a ridge purple with heather Gerard turned his flushed face towards Frank and grinned.
“A gentle mount for a gentle rider,” he remarked, elated by exercise and fresh air.
“Really?” answered Frank, an impertinent smile dancing on his lips “then we’ll race you back. We’ll see who’s gentle” Frank clapped his heels into the mares sides, and they cantered off down the smoother of slopes, Gerard in fast pursuit.
One out on the flat they leapt into a gallop, when suddenly a hare, hiding beneath the heather panicked and bolted for its hole right under Frank’s mare.
She screamed and spooked, plunging sideways while the terrified creature ducked and dived at her feet, frantic. Frank pitched over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Gerard’s mind went blank with blind fear. He swung his horse around and leapt down beside Frank, who was slowly climbing to his feet.
“Frankie! Frankie” he cried, tilting his friend’s face in his hands and peering intently at him, before drawing him into a tight embrace. Gerard drew back for a second, before abandoning all sense, kissing frank on the mouth fiercely, desperately.
And Frank kissed him back.
A/N okay, yeah this is the last chapter, sorry!
I promise to write a sequel though, but not for a while because I’ve got some big time consumers coming my way, however, once June ends I’ll have nothing to do for three months but write Fanfic for you all.
I love all of you who stayed with this, even through all my no-post periods. It means a lot.
Also, this chapter is dedicated to <lj> x_noelian_x because she let me have my drug (“I hate you almost as much as I love you”)
And also because she’s seven shades of awesome.
EDIT: Co deds go to mcluvin who told me i had to get this up if i had written it. see? i typed this up in IT lesson and the teacher caught me and was all "wtf? why aren't you doing your coursework" and i was all "screw the CD project! my creativity is MORE IMPORTANT!"
and then, after a proper bollocking, i got put in detention.
*sigh*
the things i go through for you guys.
also, i walked home from Piano in the rain. I'm not sure why that's relevant, but it is, somehow.
i love you all!