Three Cheers for Tyranny [part 5a]

[silentdescant]

Three Cheers for Tyranny

[ index] - [ prologue] - [ part 1] - [ part 2] - [ part 3] - [ part 4] - [part 5a] - [ part 5b] - [ part 6]

[ art by laziilemon] - [ mix by quarterturn]

Life went back to normal surprisingly fast. Gerard didn’t want to waste time; it wasn’t even New Year’s before he distributed a hit-list to Frank and the guys. Frank wanted to protest, ask again to stay with Gerard, but this time, Gerard insisted.

“I need you for this, Frankie,” he said. “You know what information I’m looking for, and how to get it. Now that we know who we can’t trust, we need to work our way up to the top, okay? You can do that for me, Frank.”

Frank knew Gerard didn’t share his plans and worries with anyone else; Frank really was the only man for the job. He sighed and took the paper.

“Worm and Mark are going to be here,” Gerard added. “We’ll be fine.” Frank heard the silent I’ll be okay without you for a few hours, don’t worry, and wondered if Gerard actually believed that. “Take Johnny with you. Be careful.”

***

Gerard knew exactly how to apply pressure to the right people: they killed two men and suddenly had a wealth of information. Gerard still sent Frank and the others out, though, to “send a message.”

After one such excursion, Frank was in the kitchen bandaging his hands-only a little scraped up, barely bleeding, he’d be fine in a few days-with Gerard hovering over his shoulder, alternately pacing around the kitchen and offering to clean Frank’s cuts and all the while shooting him worried looks.

“I’m fine,” Frank said, gritting his teeth as he pressed slightly too hard on one of the bruises. “Tell me what we’ve got.”

Gerard reluctantly turned back to his notes. “We still don’t know how far up it goes,” he muttered. “I don’t think these guys are at the top level, they’re not… they’re not smart enough.”

“So we’re still looking for a smart-ass motherfucker?” Frank asked.

“Yeah,” Gerard sighed. “Someone with experience. See, the thing is, I still don’t know if it’s someone from a rivaling Family, and these guys just changed loyalties or…”

“Or if it’s one of ours,” Frank finished quietly.

“I don’t want to think that,” Gerard said, “but I might be right to.”

Frank licked his lips. “You might be,” he finally replied. Gerard nodded his head in understanding.

***

Everyone living in the Way house gradually became more paranoid than ever before, simply from knowing that there could be traitors in their midst. The only ones living there full-time were Gerard, Mikey, Tony, Mark, and Frank. Vinnie stayed over fairly often, and Worm and Chris alternated watchdog duty, but hardly anyone else was allowed through the doors.

First, Gerard started avoiding the windows in the front rooms, then he started avoiding those rooms altogether. Then he wouldn’t go near the back or side doors, and he spent as little time in the gratuitously-windowed kitchen as possible. His office had two large windows, but they faced the backyard and Gerard kept the curtains firmly closed, the windows themselves locked and with an engaged alarm system.

Even though Gerard had pulled these kinds of reclusive, agoraphobic stunts before, Frank was worried. He couldn’t help but worry, now. Gerard barely slept, and he only ate when someone brought him food. Whenever he wasn’t in his office, he wouldn’t hold still, he couldn’t stop glancing at the exits.

As they got closer to figuring things out, Gerard withdrew more and more, even from Frank. He couldn’t deny that it hurt, but he dutifully trailed behind, alert for any threat.

***

Gerard was hiding. He no longer bothered with pretending to work; he was straight-up hiding, and the office was the only place he felt remotely safe anymore. Frank knew he was even sleeping there, most nights, if he was sleeping at all. He had to admit, however, that it made Frank breathe easier to know exactly where Gerard was at all times, and who had access to him. Frank was struggling to deal with constantly being on the verge of a panic attack, and he thought it must be worse for Gerard. They were at the point where they believed every shadow on the wall was a danger.

“I’m going out,” Frank said to Tony, already on his way to the door.

“Don’t get shot,” Tony called after him. Last week Pete had been shot at for no reason other than being connected to the Family and being loyal to Gerard. They still didn’t know who’d done it, and now Pete was paranoid as hell, and he was just a driver.

Frank nodded his understanding and took a detour to the side door. He’d planned on walking, to give himself time to clear his head, but that would just be making a target of himself. He checked the car for anything unusual before getting into the driver’s seat. Pete’s paranoia was rubbing off on him. But for good reason, Frank thought. He was closer to Gerard than Pete could ever be.

St. Jude’s Church was only a few blocks away; Frank pulled into the nearly empty parking lot and chose a space close to the building. Then he sat in the car staring blankly out the front window for several minutes. The last time he’d been here was Elena’s funeral, but that wasn’t the real reason for his hesitation. No, it was mostly because Frank had given up on religion when he was a teenager, more than ten years ago.

Frank got out of the car and started towards the door before he could talk himself out of it. He ignored the priest and the woman he was talking to in the lobby and continued into the sanctuary. Force of habit made him dip his fingers into the cool water and cross himself. Frank closed his eyes and tried not to curse God and the Church, and his parents for instilling their religion in him.

He walked slowly down the aisle, all the while staring up at the cross that hung behind the altar. He finally slid into the third pew from the front and sat down. A few minutes later, Frank was still trying to rationalize his visit to himself.

Behind him, the door opened and Father Russo came in. Frank turned to look over his shoulder. When Father Russo was about halfway down the aisle, he said, “Frank Iero.” Frank didn’t answer. The Father then asked, “What’s troubling you, my son?”

Frank shook his head and said, “Father, please, I’d rather be alone.”

Father Russo didn’t look surprised, not beyond his confusion at seeing Frank in the church in the first place. He nodded and replied, “Of course. I’ll be in my office if you change your mind.” And then Frank was alone again.

His forearms were resting on the pew in front of him. He had the Virgin Mary tattooed on his fucking arm. “Fuck it,” he whispered, staring down at his hands, already clasped together. He slid off the bench to his knees and ducked his head.

“Please,” he murmured aloud. “Please, God... keep him safe.” Frank looked up at the suspended cross. Statues and paintings and stained glass stared back at him, and Frank almost started crying. “That’s all I want, all I ask, just please, please keep him safe.”

On his way out, Frank stopped to light a candle, more for the idea of it than actually thinking it would help. Father Russo came out of his office, startling Frank, and said, “I’ll pray for you, Frank.”

Frank shook his head slightly. “Not me,” he said. “The Family. Pray for my Family.”

The Father gave him a hard look, but he nodded. “God be with you all, my son.”

Frank walked out without saying goodbye.

***

Not long after Frank returned, Gerard called him into his office, soft-voiced and utterly calm. When the door closed behind them, he said, “I just got a phone call from Tom.”

“What did he say?” Frank asked cautiously.

“Based on what you found out,” Gerard began slowly, “he was able to dig a little deeper. He gave me a name, Frankie. This could be our guy.”

Frank understood what Gerard wasn’t saying: it was a traitor, someone inside the Family. Frank nodded and held his breath, then gathered the courage to ask who.

“Salvatore Bertini,” Gerard replied. He didn’t break eye contact.

“Oh,” Frank breathed. One of Papa Rush’s most trusted caporegimi. “Sal?” Gerard nodded. Bertini had been sort of like an uncle to both of them, and yet, it wasn’t hard to think up reasons for his betrayal. Bertini was a man of tradition, and he made it no secret that he didn’t approve of Gerard’s rise to power, considering his only half-Italian heritage and his age. “Fuck,” Frank whispered. Now they had to deal with him.

“I’m coming with you on this,” Gerard said. “I need to be there.”

“Okay.” Gerard obviously wasn’t taking no for an answer, no matter how dangerous it was for him. “When d’you want to go?”

“Tomorrow morning. Get some rest tonight.”

As if Frank would be able to sleep.

***

Their usual chauffer, Pete, drove them, and Gerard instructed him to park around the back, so they wouldn’t be seen approaching. Pete dropped them off around the corner and continued around the block to do as Gerard asked. Gerard looked over at Frank.

“Ready?” he asked. Frank flexed his fingers and nodded, jittery with the knowledge of what he needed to do. Gerard touched Frank’s arm and nudged him towards the house. He said, “Let’s do this, Frank.”

“Let’s do this,” Frank parroted. He grinned, aware that he probably looked a little psychotic. He bounded up the steps and rang the doorbell, then knocked loudly.

Salvatore Bertini’s personal security answered the door with a blank, bored expression. Frank gave him a cheerful wave and punched him in the nose, shouldering past roughly as the guy clutched his bloody face. Gerard stepped around the man and led the way through the house. They found Bertini standing in the middle of his living room. He must’ve gotten up from his TV dinner when he’d heard his man cry out.

“Sal,” Gerard said, his voice devoid of emotion. “You’ve made a big mistake.”

“Oh yeah?” Bertini taunted after a few seconds. The time for pretending was over; they all knew what was going on. He had a thick New York accent, and he’d gotten fat since Frank had last seen him. “I think you’re the one that’s a bit fucked in the head, kid.”

Bertini lashed out and punched Gerard in the side of the head, moving surprisingly fast for a man his size. Gerard hit the wall, dazed and blinking rapidly, and Bertini hit him again, this time in the stomach. Gerard doubled over, and while he was gasping, Bertini knocked his head back against the wall. He crumpled to the floor. It was over in maybe five seconds, and Frank was too shocked to move.

The guy had some serious nerve.

“Oh, fuck no,” Frank hissed, and that was all the warning he gave. He launched himself at Bertini and headbutted him, clinging onto Bertini’s wide shoulders for leverage. When Bertini stumbled to his knees, Frank went to town, his fists flying with the single-minded purpose of kill.

Bertini didn’t go down without a fight, though; he gave as good as he got, and it was only Frank’s stubbornness that kept him on his feet. Finally, after several minutes of tussling, Frank wrestled Bertini to the floor and had the presence of mind to pull his gun. He aimed it quickly between Bertini’s eyes.

Behind him, he could hear Gerard stirring. Frank held the gun steady as he panted, trying to catch his breath without breaking eye contact with Bertini. The seconds stretched on until Gerard said, “Fucking shoot him, Frankie.”

Frank didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

***

Frank wasn’t entirely sure how they’d gotten home. He thought he may have lost consciousness at one point in the car. He vaguely remembered Gerard telling Pete he was free to go home, and the next thing he was aware of was sitting at the kitchen counter, hunched over and leaning on his elbows, staring down at his hands. They were torn up, his knuckles especially, and covered in blood. They were also shaking, and hey, that was new. The attack on Gerard had really freaked him out, and now that the adrenaline was leaving him, the panic was settling in. Frank exhaled slowly to calm himself down. He felt blood drying on his face and neck and didn’t know how much of it was his own.

Gerard was in slightly better shape. He was leaning against the counter as well, directly across the center island from Frank, pinching the bridge of his nose to stop the sluggish bleeding. He looked exhausted.

Johnny was there, too, beside Frank, casually cleaning one of his guns. He didn’t really seem to be paying attention to them.

Frank rubbed the heels of his shaking hands over his eyes and muttered, “Fuck.” He heard a metallic click and when he lowered his hands, he saw Johnny with his gun raised and leveled at Gerard. Frank tipped backward off his stool and took a hasty step back. “What the fuck? Johnny!”

“C’mon, Frankie,” Johnny said blithely. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“Thought about what?” Frank shrieked.

“He’s barely older than you,” Johnny said. “He doesn’t have any idea how to run a Family like this. And you’re taking orders from him? Following him blindly? You’re like a fucking lovesick puppy, Frank, it’s pathetic.”

Frank looked over at Gerard. He was standing completely still, every line of his body tense. “Who would you rather take orders from?” Gerard asked stiffly.

“We’ve got a new Family set up, all ready to take over when you and your brother turn up in the lake. Bertini was never going to be the Don; we have someone else, someone who can handle the responsibility. He’s safe. All that needs to happen now is for you to die.”

“Bad idea, man. Seriously fucking bad idea,” Frank said.

“Oh yeah? His only bodyguard is standing right next to me and too bloody and torn apart to fight back,” Johnny snapped, not even turning to look at Frank. He was a professional; he kept his attention solely on Gerard, watching Frank in the periphery of his vision.

Frank heard the gun cock and he moved blindly, hurrying around the island to stand in front of Gerard, with the intention of yanking him to the ground, but then the gunshot rang out, unsilenced and echoing around the kitchen. Frank didn’t even register the bullet; he only felt Gerard’s left hand skimming his waist, taking his gun and firing three shots over Frank’s shoulder. His right hand slid around to Frank’s back and held him firmly. Gerard’s expression didn’t even change when he pulled the trigger. He just looked blank.

Frank knew before he even turned to see that all three bullets had gone into Johnny’s forehead. Gerard knew how to shoot to kill. He heard Johnny fall to the floor, and then Frank clutched at Gerard’s lapel, his knees suddenly weak.

“Fuck,” Gerard gasped, his forehead creasing in concern. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Frankie, shit-”

Frank blacked out.

***

He was in a car. He knew that much. He could feel the vibrations though his back. His back really fucking hurt, too. Frank blinked several times until his vision came into focus.

Frank knew why Gerard didn’t like to drive. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how, or that he thought he was too good for it; it was just that he didn’t give a flying fuck about traffic laws. They ran three red lights and narrowly avoided being hit head-on by a semi in the space of about five minutes, and that was only what Frank noticed while his eyes were open.

Gerard was on the phone, babbling in a high voice. His freaked-out voice. He kept saying Frank’s name and glancing over at him. After a few minutes, Frank figured out where they were heading.

“Mob Doctor Bob,” he whispered, humming along with the radio. He passed out again.

***

Gerard tapped his cheek several times to get him to wake up. “Frankie? Frankie, c’mon, man, wake up. Gotta get you inside. Help me out, man. C’mon, Frankie. Can you walk? C’mon, Frankie, wake up.”

Frank threw his arm over Gerard’s shoulder and tried to carry his own weight from the car to the entrance to Bob’s office. He started giggling. They had to go through the fucking waiting room.

They didn’t wait, though, and it was empty anyway. Bob appeared by the check-in desk, his white lab coat fanning out behind him.

“Jesus, Frankie!” he cried, rushing forward to help Gerard carry him into the exam room.

“He stepped in front of a fucking gun,” Gerard said shrilly. “I tried to stop the bleeding, but-”

“C’mon, c’mon, let’s get him on the table.”

Bob (Gerard helped, but Frank could tell it was mostly Bob) lifted him onto the exam table and rolled him onto his side. Frank stared at the floor. They’d left a trail of bloody footprints. This may be worse than he thought.

Bob clenched his fists into Frank’s t-shirt and ripped it apart, peeling it carefully away from Frank’s skin. Frank shivered, hissing and spitting as the pain in his lower back seeped into his awareness. Gerard appeared in front of his face and grasped Frank’s hand, squeezing tightly.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Gerard whispered, staring up at Bob with wide eyes.

“I don’t know,” came Bob’s hurried reply. Frank groaned and clenched his jaw, his back teeth grinding together audibly.

Frank felt Bob’s hands poking and prodding, skimming over his wound, but he tried to block it out, focusing instead on Gerard’s face. His hazel eyes, wide and frightened, surrounded by bruises, and his lips, swollen and bloody from earlier in the day.

“Gee.”

“Shh, Frankie, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay,” he whispered.

“No, no. Gee. Need to tell you.”

“Not now, Frankie, tell me later. You’re gonna be fine,” Gerard continued frantically. His voice was getting higher and higher, like his head was about to explode or something.

“Jesus, Gerard, just let him,” Bob hissed, and suddenly his hands disappeared. “I’m gonna go get some drugs, I’ll be right back.”

“Gee…”

“What is it, Frankie? What?” Gerard held both of Frank’s hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs gently over Frank’s bruised and bloody knuckles. Frank closed his eyes. “Frank?”

“I love you,” Frank whispered. His eyes flew open. “I mean.” He bit his lip, grimacing as the pain overwhelmed him. “I’m in love with you.”

Gerard then did something completely unexpected: he ducked his head and closed his mouth over Frank’s. Frank kissed back on instinct, tasting blood on Gerard’s moist lips. God, if he was dying, what a way to go. Gerard moved one hand around to the back of Frank’s head, slowly deepening the kiss.

“Mmmph,” Frank said. At least, that’s what came out of his mouth. He wasn’t even sure what he meant to say.

Gerard pulled away, panting, and looked over Frank’s shoulder. Bob had come back.

“I’m gonna give you a shot, Frankie. For the pain,” Bob murmured. “Hold still.”

Frank moaned and squeezed Gerard’s fingers. Gerard looked down at their hands and squeezed back. He felt Bob reach for his arm and he moved willingly; a second later, a needle slid into his vein. Gerard flinched and turned his head away.

Frank felt a brief flash of pain, and then a rush of welcome blankness. He reached for Gerard’s hair and missed by a few inches. His hand dropped to his shoulder, instead. Frank pawed at him for a moment and murmured, “Love you. Love you, Gee.”

And then he passed out again.

***

When he came to, Frank was lying on his stomach on Bob’s exam table, and he could hear Gerard and Bob’s voices somewhere above him. He felt nauseous, and he groaned. It took him a minute or so to figure out how to open his eyes.

Frank’s head was turned, and Gerard was standing right in front of him, his hands held stiffly in loose fists at his sides. He couldn’t see Bob, but he felt things on his back-hands, maybe-and assumed Bob was doing something to him.

“He can’t go to a fucking hospital,” Gerard was saying.

“He’s going to get an infection! We have to get the bullet out.”

“No hospitals! They ask too many questions, especially about bullet wounds. Can’t you do it?”

“I’m not a fucking surgeon, Gerard!”

“How hard can it be?” Gerard scoffed. “He’s already cut open!”

“You know his history,” Bob replied wearily. “His immune system’s shot to shit. He needs a fucking clean room. I don’t have the equipment-”

“So what the fuck are you gonna do?” Gerard’s fists tightened and he slammed one down on the paper-covered cushion above Frank’s head. “Fucking do something, Bryar!” he shouted.

Frank groaned. He wasn’t really in pain, he just felt like he was about to hurl. On Gerard’s shoes. They had blood on them already, he noticed. “Feel sick,” he mumbled.

Gerard moved his hand to Frank’s sweaty forehead and gently petted him. It was soothing, but it didn’t make the nausea go away. Frank groaned again and tried to curl up with his knees to his chest, but Bob’s hand on his hip stilled him.

“Don’t move too much, Frankie,” Gerard murmured.

“I know a guy who might do it,” Bob said. “It’ll take time, though. I’m not sure-”

“Tell him to fucking make time,” Gerard shot back.

Ten minutes later, Frank was in the back of Bob’s car, wrapped in bandages and completely stoned on painkillers. He was lying across the seat with his head in Gerard’s lap; Bob was driving. They pulled into the hospital parking lot but bypassed the Emergency Room entrance, at Gerard’s insistence. Bob and Gerard carried Frank between them through the main entrance, and they were met by a man in scrubs, with long hair pulled into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck. He had a mask dangling from around his throat.

“Bullet wound, no questions asked?” the guy said, glancing at Frank.

Gerard glared at him. “Was that a question?”

“Ray Toro,” he said, touching Frank’s shoulder. “I’ll fix you right up. This way.”

Toro took them to an empty operating room and Bob manhandled Frank onto the table. The two doctors started poking and prodding him into the right position and Toro pressed a series of buttons on one of the machines, bringing it to life. Gerard was standing a few steps back, shifting his weight nervously, watching them. Frank stared at Gerard and wasn’t worried at all when his vision blurred. Either he was dying or it was the drugs; not much he could do about it.

“He’s gonna be okay, right?” Gerard asked.

“We’ll take care of him,” Bob answered. He fixed an oxygen mask over Frank’s face and murmured, “Breathe, Frankie.”

“You need to step out, now,” Toro said. Gerard shook his head. “Just let us work, please.”

“Gerard, it’s okay, we’ll do whatever we need to-”

Frank couldn’t focus on Gerard’s face anymore; he was standing too far away. He was a blur of black clothes and hair.

“I’m not leaving him,” Gerard insisted, and Frank imagined him stamping his foot like a kid throwing a temper tantrum. He laughed. “Frankie,” Gerard said.

“Gerard, get out.” Bob again. He used that voice on Frank sometimes, whenever Frank did something particularly stupid and got himself hurt. Frank had never heard him use it on Gerard, though. Frank turned his head to look and saw Bob tying a mask over his face. The other doctor, Toro, ushered Gerard out of the room.

“It’ll be okay, Frankie,” Toro said when he returned, his eyes wide and bright as he peered down at Frank. “We’re gonna fix you up, you’ll be fine.”

“Just go to sleep, Frank,” Bob added.

They seemed pretty sure of themselves. Frank closed his eyes.

***

The next time he opened them, Toro was there, his mask hanging around his neck again and some of his hair trying to escape the tie that held it. He smiled widely.

“You’re up.”

“Yeah,” Frank gasped. His throat was dry. “Where’s Gerard?”

“He’s fine, I think he went back home,” Toro replied. A cup of water materialized in front of Frank’s face. Frank blinked. “Bob’s about to come get you, okay? He’ll take you there.”

“Bob… Oh. I was shot.”

“Yeah.” Frank noticed that Toro glanced quickly towards the door before continuing and then remembered that he wasn’t even supposed to be in the hospital. “I took out the bullet, but there was pretty extensive kidney damage… I had to remove your kidney, but if you give yourself time to heal, you should make a full recovery. You’ll be fine in a few weeks.”

“Oh.”

“Bob’s going to keep an eye on you, okay? You’re going to have to rest up for a while.”

“But I-”

“No, seriously, Frank,” Toro interrupted. “I don’t know what it is you do, but I can take a pretty good guess, and I can say for sure that you won’t recover if you try to go back to that too soon. Let Bob take care of you. He’ll let you know when things return to normal.”

There was a fierce gleam in Toro’s eyes and Frank nodded dumbly.

“It was a close call, Frankie. A few inches to the left and you probably wouldn’t have made it to my operating table, much less survived the procedure. Listen to Bob, do what he says.” He smiled suddenly. “He’ll be here in a minute to take you back to Gerard.”

“Okay,” Frank replied. “What time s’it?”

“Late,” Toro said with a grin. “You were out for a while, man. And don’t tell your friend, but when we knocked you out? We weren’t sure you were gonna wake up.”

“Oh.” Frank looked down at his lap. Once he saw the bandages wrapped around his stomach, he could feel the itch of the gauze and the pull of the tape on his skin. “Oh.”

Ray sat with him until Bob appeared, his hair sticking up in a multitude of directions. He looked weirdly like a blonde, bearded Gerard. Frank smiled.

“Frankie, how’re you doing?” he asked, hurrying to Frank’s bedside.

“Alive,” Frank said. “Apparently. Thanks to you. And Ray.”

“Only the best for you, Frankie,” Bob said, and Ray blushed, shaking his head so that more of his long, curly hair fell out of his ponytail.

“Ray said you’ll take me home.”

“Yeah, yeah, I just came from there. Got you some drugs and clean sheets on your bed and everything. Gerard’s going insane, by the way.”

“Hmm.”

“C’mon, Frankie,” Bob continued. He wrapped his arms around Frank and pulled him out of the bed. Frank noticed a wheelchair in the corner as Bob manhandled him towards it.

“Don’t want a fucking wheelchair,” Frank mumbled. Bob was bigger than him, sturdy, good to hold on to. Frank pressed his nose into Bob’s chest.

“Too bad,” Bob replied shortly. “You’re too stoned to stay upright on your own. And you have a bullet hole in your back and one less kidney than you came in with. You’re using a fucking wheelchair.”

Ray helped Frank get situated in the chair and walked with them to the entrance. He patted Frank’s shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Frank.”

“‘kay,” Frank said. “Thanks. For like, saving my life and stuff.”

Ray laughed. “Anytime.”

“C’mon, let’s get you up,” Bob said. Luckily, Bob’s car was parked right there at the entrance. Frank pretty much let Bob carry him, as humiliating as it was, because yeah, Bob was right, standing up wasn’t working so well at the moment.

Frank didn’t remember the car ride or getting upstairs, and he suspected Bob had carried him again. He didn’t mind too much. Frank was in his own bed and there were unfamiliar things cluttering up his nightstand, and Bob was sitting in his desk chair, which was pulled over to the bed.

“You’re awake,” he said unnecessarily.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Feeling okay?”

“Um…” Frank couldn’t really feel much of anything. It wasn’t an unpleasant blankness, though, so he nodded.

Bob did something with the stuff on the nightstand and held out a few pills. “Take these. It’ll make you go back to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna sleep.”

“Too bad.”

“But-”

“Frank, shut up and take the fucking pills. Trust me,” Bob said, “you want to sleep. Deep down, sleep is exactly what you want, because you’re so tired, your eyelids are already drooping and you can barely move your arms, you’re warm and on a comfortable bed with your own, familiar pillows-”

Fuck, he was getting sleepy. “Fine,” Frank snapped, and grabbed the pills. “Fuck you.”

***

Bob stayed with Frank for most of the next few days. He told Frank that Gerard came in while Frank was asleep, but Frank rarely saw him. Bob assured him that Gerard was fine, just working a lot.

By the end of the week, Frank was able to stay up for a few hours at a time, and Bob proclaimed him able to walk around. Slowly. Carefully. Without bending or twisting, and he wasn’t allowed to go up or down the stairs on his own.

Frank decided he wanted to be downstairs, because that’s where Gerard was most of the time. Bob set him up in the lounge with a blanket and a pillow and bottles of water, and Frank obediently sat there for most of the day, until Bob left.

But he needed to move. Bob had said it was okay.

***

Gerard was pacing when Frank walked into the office and circled around behind the desk to glance at the notes Gerard had scribbled down. Gerard motioned for him to sit down, so he did. It was weird; this was Gerard’s desk, and before that, his grandfather’s desk, and Frank couldn’t remember if anyone else had ever sat here. He didn’t think so.

Sitting was a good idea, though; Frank’s legs felt weak and he hunched over the desk and tried to breathe through the pain. Gerard was on the phone, but he wasn’t saying much, and he looked over at Frank in concern.

“I’m fine,” Frank mumbled. He leaned back in the chair and pressed his hand to his side.

Gerard’s desk was littered with papers, which was nothing unusual, but Frank shifted a few of them aside and found a stack of photographs underneath. Mug shots. He pulled them out and started flipping through them. They were all people he knew, people in the Family. About halfway through the stack was his own picture. Frank dropped the rest and cocked his head to the side, staring at his nineteen-year-old self.

He was grinning in the photo, and his hair had been dyed red and black. It wasn’t the same face Frank saw in the mirror now; he’d grown up since that time only a few short years ago. He’d been arrested for something stupid and childish, like shoplifting from a record store or something, Frank couldn’t even remember. He’d known, at the time, that there was no way he was going to jail. Not with his connections with the Family. He’d always been protected.

Lost in thought, Frank didn’t hear Gerard finish his conversation and hang up the phone, and the next thing he knew, Gerard was leaning over him and pulling him in for a slow, gentle kiss. Gerard’s hands came up to cup his jaw and Frank let himself relax, closing his eyes and melting into Gerard’s touch.

Then he came to his senses and jerked away, his eyes flying open.

“Um, what?” he asked stupidly. He felt dazed. Gerard looked surprised, and nervous. “Um,” Frank said again.

“Frankie-”

“You just… You just kissed me.” Frank groaned internally. Way to state the obvious.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Gerard murmured.

“You… Really?”

Gerard answered by kissing him again, sliding one hand up to the crown of Frank’s head, his fingers tangling in Frank’s long hair. Frank closed his eyes again and lifted his hands to Gerard’s neck, his fingertips slipping just beneath the stiff collar of his shirt.

“Jesus,” Frank breathed when they pulled apart. “Fuck, Gerard…”

Gerard leaned in and pressed his forehead to Frank’s, his eyes closed. He whispered, “God, Frankie.”

“I… I didn’t know,” Frank said finally, after a long moment during which he just stared at Gerard’s face. His fucking eyelashes. “You’ve had girlfriends.”

“Not in a long fucking time, Frank,” Gerard murmured, scoffing.

Frank’s throat felt tight; it was hard to breathe. He clenched his fingers around the hair at the nape of Gerard’s neck and tilted his head, ducking in for another kiss. Gerard’s tongue slipped between his lips, and that was what really convinced Frank that this was real.

He gasped into Gerard’s mouth, months’ worth of wanting finally coming to a head right in this moment and overwhelming him. “I love you,” he sighed, and then, “Shit.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Gerard said quickly, petting the side of Frank’s face. He leaned back a few inches to stare into Frank’s eyes. “Frank. I love you, too.”

Frank pushed against Gerard’s hands, tilting his head back so he had room to breathe. And fuck, was he hyperventilating or something? He couldn’t catch his breath. “You… You do?”

“Yeah,” Gerard replied softly. He smiled. “I love you, Frank. I kissed you, remember? In Bob’s office… Remember?”

“I thought that was… like… an only-while-I-was-dying kind of thing,” Frank admitted, blushing. “I didn’t think you meant it.”

“I do,” Gerard said, and surged forward to kiss Frank again.

This time, Frank didn’t interrupt. Gerard pressed him back into the chair, twisting his fingers in Frank’s hair again, and Frank wrapped his arms around Gerard’s waist to pull him closer. Frank lost track of time, because holy shit, they were making out in Gerard’s office.

Eventually, though, Gerard broke away, leaning his forehead against Frank’s again. He seemed to like doing that, and Frank honestly didn’t mind. He stared at Gerard’s eyelids again. Gerard sighed.

“No one can know,” he whispered after a significant pause. “I’m sorry, Frankie. I wish…”

“You want-”

Gerard’s eyes opened. They were bright and his pupils were wide, and he was really fucking close. Frank’s eyes almost crossed, looking at him. “I’m not gonna let you go,” he said. “I’m not fucking stupid, Frank.”

Frank couldn’t think of a reply that didn’t make him sound like a teenage girl, so he kissed Gerard again. God, he loved doing that. It was so much better than he ever thought it would be, because Gerard’s lips were soft and ever-so-slightly demanding, and he made these fucking sounds, deep in the back of his throat, and his fucking tongue, Jesus.

“Gee,” Frank said. “God, Gee.”

“Yeah.”

Gerard moved away, taking a step back so he could lean his hip against the desk. Frank watched him carefully: the soft smile on his swollen lips, the hazy look in his eyes. Frank took a deep breath and said, “Now what?”

“I don’t know,” Gerard admitted quietly.

Frank looked around the room, searching for something to distract him from standing up, grabbing Gerard, and kissing him again. The photos on the desk caught his eye, and he glanced around, wondering where his own had gone. He’d been holding it when Gerard had kissed him that first time.

Gerard followed his gaze and bent down to pick the picture up off the floor. He held it out to Frank with a somewhat sheepish expression.

“What’s all this for?” Frank asked. “Why do you have these?”

“They’re copied from police files,” Gerard explained. “Everything’s out of date, though. I think… I think it’s time we met with that Beckett guy.”

***

“Mr. Way,” said William, holding out his hand for Gerard to shake. “I get to meet the legend. Bill Beckett.”

“Bill?” Gerard cocked his head in polite inquiry.

“William, Bill, whichever you prefer. And you,” he said, turning to Frank, “must be Frank, right?”

“Yeah,” Frank confirmed warily. He took William’s proffered hand, but he didn’t smile.

“It’s good to meet you, Bill,” Gerard said. “Please, have a seat. Gabe’s told me a little bit about you.”

“Right, yeah. He’s a good friend of mine. I didn’t know he was…” William trailed off, glancing uncertainly over at Frank, who continued to glare at him. “Connected to you like he is.”

“Long-time friend of the family,” Gerard explained simply. “Tell me, Bill, how do your superiors feel about you and Gabe being friends?”

“What I do on my own time is my business,” William said stonily, though he managed to ease the sudden tension with an enigmatic grin. “I’m not married to my job. As long as it doesn’t affect my work, I do what I want with my personal life. I don’t care if my friends are considered ‘shady,’ they’re still my friends, and that means something to me.”

Gerard flicked his eyes over to Frank during William’s little tirade, and Frank rolled his eyes and smiled back. William could be really good for them.

After a few minutes of surprisingly candid conversation, Gerard said, “I need you to tell me about the Salvatore Bertini case. The media seems to be making a big deal out of it.”

“‘A leading man in a crumbling empire,’ they called him,” Frank quoted from the couch. He tossed a newspaper onto the side table. “We’re not crumbling.”

William looked back and forth between them and said, “No, that’s what they want. They fed the media that story because they’re confident that that’s how it’ll turn out.”

Gerard shot Frank a warning glance, his expression terse. “Why are they so confident?” Frank asked, because Gerard couldn’t. Even now, they couldn’t let on how little they really knew about the case. Not to someone like William.

William gave Frank a small, sympathetic smile and said, “Because they know you killed him. They’re still playing it off like they’re searching for suspects because they don’t want you to run, but they know it was you. There were fingerprints all over the place, your DNA-”

“Why haven’t they picked him up yet?” Gerard broke in.

“Gathering evidence,” William replied simply.

“I thought you said they have my DNA…” Frank said slowly.

“No, listen,” William said, and he didn’t sound unfriendly; on the contrary, he seemed like he genuinely wanted to help Frank understand. William was surprisingly earnest. Frank tilted his head to show he was paying attention. “They know who you are, your connections with Gerard and the Family. They know that if they picked you up on just that, you’d make bail or something and they’d lose you. So they’re gathering evidence on past crimes, unsolved murders and assaults that they suspect you of, and even some that they don’t.”

Gerard opened his mouth to raise an objection, but William continued speaking. “They want to take Frank out, take him out completely, even if it means planting evidence, ‘cause they think it’ll cripple the Family. Frank’s only one step away from you,” he said to Gerard, “and they know he’s a major player, even if they’re not sure of his role.”

“Shit,” Frank breathed. His criminal history was flashing before his eyes; all the mistakes he’d made, all the evidence he’d left behind that on its own was inconclusive, but put together could land him in a maximum security prison. And that wasn’t counting the crimes he knew he could easily be framed for committing. “I’m fucked,” he said quietly.

Gerard’s shoulders were stiff with tension and he remained absolutely still as he asked, “Can you get him off?”

“I…” William looked nervous for the first time since walking into the office. “I… I can’t, no, I can’t. I don’t have access to the physical evidence; I can’t fudge any test results… I’m just a lawyer. You need a cop for that,” he mumbled.

“Shit. Shit,” Frank said again. His palms were sweaty. His pulse had quickened and he couldn’t catch his breath.

“Frank,” Gerard said stiffly, glaring at him.

“The most I can do is stall them,” William continued sadly.

“Do it,” Gerard replied immediately. “Stall everything for as long as you can while we work something out.”

Frank bit his lip to keep quiet. William watched him with a sympathetic expression.

“Give me a minute alone with Frank, please,” Gerard said. “Go make yourself a sandwich or something.”

William’s face brightened. “Where’s the kitchen?”

The skinny fuck was actually going to go make a sandwich.

“Uh… down the hall on the right,” Gerard said. As soon as William shut the door behind him, he muttered to Frank, “The kid looks like he hasn’t eaten in three years.”

“Yeah, he’s skinnier than Mikey,” Frank agreed, momentarily distracted. “Cute, though,” he added off-handedly. “Hard to believe he’s a lawyer. He looks so young.”

Gerard smirked. “He’s sharp as a tack. He’ll be good for us.”

Frank nodded and they fell silent. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” Frank asked, his brief good mood dropping like a stone in a pond.

“We’ll protect you,” Gerard replied comfortingly.

Frank laughed. “I know how you work, Gee. I’m the fucking protection,” he cried, waving his hands around emphatically.

Gerard stood up and moved quickly around the desk. He took both of Frank’s hands in his and kissed his knuckles. “Shh. I’m going to get you out of this, Frank, even if it means hopping on a plane and leaving New Jersey for good.”

Frank gave him a small smile. “Where would you send me?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“We’d go to the Caribbean,” Gerard said, and Frank didn’t miss the deliberate ‘we’. “That’s where rich people go when they’re running from the law, right?”

“You’d probably get a tan in the Bahamas, Gee,” Frank pointed out.

“Shit, yeah, you’re right,” Gerard agreed, grimacing because he knew it was what Frank wanted to see. Frank was comforted by the gesture, at least. “We could go to Europe. Italy, maybe, though we’d have to brush up on our Italian. I pretty much only learned how to curse.”

Frank gave him the chuckle he was looking for, but he had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. The smile slipped off Gerard’s face and he kissed Frank chastely on the lips. “It’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll make a few calls, talk to Lindsey. I’ll fix it.”

***

Calling in personal favors, Frank learned, was a delicate business. Gerard called that District Attorney, Lindsey, and spent nearly an hour on the phone sweet-talking her. Then she agreed to meet with him at the house.

As before, she was wearing a skirt and boots, and her thick, black hair was pulled into low pigtails behind her ears. Her lipstick was bright red. Frank managed not to stare at her chest this time.

“Hi, Frank, how are you?” she asked politely while they shook hands.

“Been better,” he replied. “Gee’s office is this way.”

“How’s your back?” Lindsey asked when they were outside Gerard’s door. Frank paused.

“You know about that?”

She nodded once. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Frank looked her up and down before answering, “Thanks.” She seemed genuine. He opened the door for her and sat down on the couch. Gerard went around and kissed her on the cheek, and they sat down in the two chairs in front of the desk.

“What do you want, Gerard?” Lindsey asked, but she was smiling. Frank figured that was a good sign.

“I need Frank off the hook,” Gerard replied bluntly.

Lindsey took a breath and made an abortive gesture. “This is a big case, Gee-”

“He can’t take the blame for this.”

Frank closed his eyes. It was weird, hearing them talk about him, about the situation, like a business deal. Which, he supposed, it kind of was. Just not for Frank.

“Someone needs to,” Lindsey said apologetically. “There’s evidence, Gerard.”

“There’s always evidence. Lindsey, please, just consider-”

“There’s only so much I can do.”

“Lyn, please.” Gerard lowered his voice. “This is all on me, okay? It’s not his fault; he can’t be blamed for what he’s done.”

Frank opened his eyes and saw Lindsey regarding Gerard sternly. “Are you saying you’ll give yourself up?” she asked quietly.

“No,” Frank broke in. “No, he won’t.”

“Frank-”

“Shut up, Gee. Please, Lindsey, do whatever you can, but don’t let him take responsibility.”

“Frank, don’t-”

“Gerard, shut up.” Frank sat up straight. “Lindsey, please help me, but don’t let him do this.”

She smiled. She glanced quickly back and forth between them, and then said to Frank, “I’ll cut you a deal. It’ll all go away.”

“What kind of deal?” Gerard asked.

Lindsey shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I’ll think of something plausible, don’t worry. I’ll make it go away.” She stood up, preparing to leave.

Frank was speechless. He fumbled for a moment and finally rose to his feet, then said, “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Lindsey replied with a grin. She hugged Frank and kissed his cheek. Frank forced himself not to immediately wipe off the lipstick smudge when she pulled away. “Take care of yourselves,” she said to both of them. “I’ll see myself out.”

Frank stared at her until she disappeared, closing the door behind her. Gerard came over and rubbed his thumb over Frank’s cheek, smudging the lipstick. He was smiling.

“What just happened?” Frank asked.

“She knows about us,” Gerard said.

“How?”

“I don’t know. Something we said, I guess. She did meet me in college… I think she knows me pretty well.”

“Oh,” Frank said. “So that’s it?”

Gerard nodded. “That’s it.”

“She’s amazing.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“I should send her a card.”

Gerard laughed and pulled Frank into a hug. Frank could feel the relief coming off him in waves. “Okay, sure. I’ll even sign it with you.”

***

Frank ran his fingers absently through Gerard’s hair, ruffling it. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said. He felt Gerard nod.

“Bob will be here in about half an hour to check you out. I’ll send him to your room.”

Frank tried to look at his wound in the mirror when he undressed, but it still hurt a little to twist his torso that way. He reached back and rubbed his index finger over the scar tissue. He could move around and touch it without pain, for the most part, so he was hoping Bob would tell him it had healed.

In the shower, Frank washed his hair and body perfunctorily and then spent several minutes standing beneath the hot spray, distantly aware that he was wasting time and that Bob was probably waiting for him. He didn’t allow himself to think about what a mess they were still in, even with his own legal issues solved, and instead let happier memories wash over him.

Gerard loved him. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Frank’s far-fetched fantasies had come true, and now Gerard was his. Frank had always been Gerard’s, he realized with a half-smile, but now Gerard was his. He turned off the water and tied a towel around his hips.

Bob was in his bedroom when Frank entered, examining one of the paintings on the wall. “Hey,” he said warmly when he noticed Frank. “C’mere.”

Frank obediently went over to him and Bob reached out, then paused with his hands only inches away from Frank’s skin.

“You can touch,” Frank pointed out with a grin.

Bob smoothed his palms over Frank’s waist and hips and gently turned him around. He continued his careful exploration on Frank’s lower back but didn’t touch the small, round scar.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked quietly, and pressed his thumbs into Frank’s spine.

“No,” Frank answered, arching away slightly from the pressure. “Not more than usual, anyway.” Bob made a soft noise of acknowledgement. “Am I okay?” Frank asked, looking back over his shoulder at Bob. “All fixed up?”

“As much as can be expected after being shot in the back,” Bob replied.

Frank turned around. “Does that mean I can stop with the bed-rest and movement restrictions?” he asked hopefully.

Bob smirked. “I’m tempted to tell you no,” he said, “but I think you’d just disobey. You’re fine.”

Frank beamed and flung his arms around Bob’s neck. “Awesome! Thank you.”

“I’m not stupid, Frank, I know what you’re planning,” Bob muttered. “Take it easy, okay? I’m serious, no freaky Kama Sutra positions for a while, alright?”

“Jesus Christ, Bob-”

“Just don’t get ahead of yourself,” Bob continued, cutting him off. He was blushing, Frank noticed. “You could still hurt yourself, or he could hurt you without meaning to.”

“Okay, okay, Jesus, shut up,” Frank said, placating.

“And I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but I will anyway because you’re an obstinate little shit: no fighting for another few weeks. You need to be more careful, Frank, you aren’t invincible, and now it’s more likely you could damage your other kidney. Your body can only take so much abuse.”

“But you said I’m all better-”

“Frank,” Bob interrupted firmly. “Take it easy. I mean it. I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’re more vulnerable now. And if you come into my office with some kind of sex-related injury, I will laugh at your pain.”

Frank muttered, “Bastard,” and hugged Bob again. “Thanks, Bob. I do mean that.”

Bob squeezed him back, gently. “I know,” he murmured. “Take care of yourself. I’ll see you soon, okay?” Frank nodded as Bob made his way to the door. “Have fun with Gerard. And for God’s sake, don’t tell me about it.”

Frank laughed. He actually got dressed after Bob left, in case Gerard wanted to get some work done today. Gerard was still in the same position at his desk when Frank found him, and he went around and wrapped his arms around Gerard’s shoulders from behind, kissing his ear.

“What did Bob say?” Gerard asked, leaning into Frank’s embrace. “All healed?”

“Yep. For the most part.” He licked Gerard’s ear again. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispered.

“Oh, um. Oh,” Gerard stuttered. “Yeah, um. Okay. Yeah.”

“Unless you wanted to work for a while,” Frank continued.

Gerard looked down at the papers on his desk. “Oh, fuck it, now I won’t be able to concentrate anyway.”

Frank grinned and planted a smacking kiss to the corner of Gerard’s jaw. “That’s what I thought.”

Gerard turned in his chair and caught Frank’s lips in a quick kiss. “Let’s go up to your room.”

“Okay,” Frank agreed. He let go of Gerard’s shoulders and held out his hand to pull Gerard up. Gerard stood and kissed him again, slipping his tongue hesitantly between Frank’s lips. “Okay,” Frank gasped. “Upstairs now.”

They made it up to Frank’s bedroom without getting too distracted and Frank sat down on the bed. Gerard closed the door and joined him, still standing, but leaning over Frank and holding him carefully in his arms.

“Wait,” Gerard whispered suddenly. Frank pulled away, concerned, but Gerard was smiling. He disentangled himself from Frank and went to stand by the door. “The first time I jerked off thinking of you, I was standing right… here.” Gerard leaned his back against the closed door, his hip pressing against the doorknob. “I barely had the door closed before I was sticking my hand down my pants, Frank,” he said, with a little shake of his head.

He demonstrated that now, sliding his fingers beneath the waistband of his still-buttoned jeans. It was a tight fit. Grinning, Frank followed Gerard to the door and put a hand by either side of Gerard’s head, trapping him there.

“You were downstairs,” Gerard explained, “wrestling with Mark. You had your shirt off.”

Frank giggled happily. “I remember that,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss the corner of Gerard’s mouth. “I gave him a bloody nose, and I was so fucking proud of myself. I looked for you, but you were gone.”

“I felt like a creep. You were like… sixteen, or something.”

Frank pressed closer. Gerard’s fingers were still in his jeans, but with the fly still done up, they were too tight for him to fit his whole hand inside. Frank dropped his hands to Gerard’s waist, ready to undo his pants, but not moving quite yet.

“What did you think of?” he asked. “What were you imagining?”

Gerard laughed and squirmed beneath Frank’s grip. “I don’t even remember. It feels like so long ago. I don’t think I had like, a particular fantasy I was playing out or anything.”

Frank leaned even closer and put his lips next to Gerard’s ear. “D’you have one now?”

Gerard replied with a short, stifled moan and Frank dropped carefully to his knees. His fingers made quick work of Gerard’s fly, and he gently pushed the layers of fabric-ha, Superman boxers! Gerard was such a geek. Frank bit back a giggle-down to Gerard’s thighs, breathing and mouthing at Gerard’s bare hipbone. He heard Gerard’s head hit the door as he leaned back and pushed his hips forward.

“This works,” he replied in a strangled voice. “Shit, Frankie.” He reached down and tangled a hand in Frank’s hair, petting him.

Frank hadn’t really seen another guy’s dick this up close and personal before, so he just breathed on Gerard for a few seconds, his mouth close but not quite touching. With every exhale, Gerard twitched a bit, his thighs tensing beneath Frank’s hands. Frank tilted his head and laid a closed-mouth kiss at the base of his cock, slowly working his way up to the head. Gerard’s fingers twisted in his hair as he tried not to make noise.

“Shhhhhhh,” Frank whispered, glancing up at the underside of Gerard’s chin. Gerard actually whimpered. “You’ve been wishing for this since I was sixteen?” he asked.

“Fuck,” Gerard groaned. “Yes.”

Frank rose up on his knees and took Gerard into his mouth, slowly, and his own dick jumped to full attention in his pants. That was new. Frank moaned around Gerard’s cock; he’d never given a blowjob before, never even really given it much thought, but how hard could it be? He didn’t want to ruin the moment by asking Gerard to tell him if he did anything wrong, though, and it wasn’t like he’d never received a blowjob. He’d just have to improvise.

Frank curled his tongue around the head, barely remembering to breathe through his nose, and made an embarrassing sort of whiny noise when Gerard thrust forward, pushing his cock farther into Frank’s mouth than he was ready for.

“Sorry, sorry,” Gerard muttered, drawing his hand down the side of Frank’s face.

“S’fine,” Frank replied. He wrapped his lips around Gerard’s dick again and moved slowly, fighting his gag reflex when he went too far. Gerard was tense as a guitar string beneath Frank’s hands and mouth, and Frank knew he was holding himself back in a big way.

Gerard tugged Frank’s hair a few moments later, muttering Frank’s name. “Up, Frankie, come up,” he finally said. He helped Frank to his feet and kissed him desperately, and his hand joined Frank’s on his cock. Gerard bit Frank’s lip when he came, and Frank gasped and leaned forward, pinning him back against the door.

“Oh, fuck, Frank,” Gerard sighed. “Sorry, just-Frankie, oh, God.”

“Was it-”

“It was good,” Gerard assured him with a lazy smile.

Frank grinned and whispered, “Why don’t we get on the bed?”

Gerard nodded and took his hand to lead the way. He twisted out from between Frank and the door and turned Frank around with him, walking backwards and tugging Frank along. They stopped twice to kiss before Gerard collided with the bed. Frank stumbled; Gerard caught him and laid them both down.

“C’mere,” Gerard said quietly. He scooted back to rest his head on the pillow. Frank crawled up with him. “I want you to fuck me, Frank.”

“Um.” Frank stared for a few seconds. Even when he’d said those same words to Gerard down in his office, he hadn’t really thought it through. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted in a low voice.

“It’s okay,” Gerard replied, smiling. “I know.” He pulled Frank in for a long, slow kiss, and when they broke apart he said, “Wait here. Get undressed.”

Without another word, Gerard rolled off the bed and buttoned up his pants, then disappeared out the door. Frank wriggled out of his shirt without sitting up and rested his hands on the fly of his jeans. He fiddled with the zipper for a moment, debating whether or not to take his pants off yet. They were already horribly constricting, though, and Frank rubbed himself through the fabric. That was how Gerard found him, when he came back into the room.

Gerard slipped inside without opening the door more than a crack and stripped off his shirt on the way to the bed. He tossed a tube of lubricant and an unopened box of condoms down beside Frank’s ankles, then unbuttoned his pants and pushed them off before joining Frank atop the blankets.

He smiled down at Frank and asked, “D’you want to do this?”

Frank reached for Gerard, flattening his palm on Gerard’s bare, pale skin. “Yeah,” he breathed.

Gerard undid Frank’s jeans and pulled them down a few inches. “Get your pants off, then.”

Frank wrapped his arms around Gerard’s shoulders and lifted his hips up so Gerard could push the jeans the rest of the way off. Once they were both naked, Gerard curled one hand around Frank’s dick and began to stroke him slowly.

“God, Frankie,” Gerard murmured, “I want you so much.”

“What do I do, what do you want?” Frank asked, heart pounding against his ribs. He wasn’t going to last long; Frank pushed Gerard’s hand away. Gerard seemed to take the hint, and he leaned forward for a kiss. He rolled them onto their sides, and then he continued to his back, and Frank knelt up beside him.

“Here,” Gerard said. He reached for the lube and handed it to Frank. “Fingers. Just… Slow, at first.”

“Okay,” Frank replied nervously. “Um, okay.” He wasn’t completely oblivious; he knew the basics, but… “Does it hurt?” he blurted out.

“No, it’s fine,” Gerard said quickly. “I mean, I guess it hurts a little at first, but Frank, I promise, it’ll be good. Just go slow.”

Gerard spread his legs and practically guided Frank’s hand into position, murmuring encouragements along the way. Frank felt that was a little backwards, like he should be the confident, reassuring one, but instead he was acting like a blushing virgin. Which he kind of was, he had to admit. Frank tried to push his nervousness away and concentrate on making this good for Gerard.

It wasn’t too scary, or even that weird. He kept his eyes on Gerard’s face and listened for the little hitches in his breath, and Gerard touched his arm, his shoulder, his neck, and pulled him in for a kiss, whispering a running commentary into Frank’s mouth. Finally, he whispered “Okay, okay, I’m ready, c’mon.”

Frank glanced down between their bodies and couldn’t help but think that a dick was a lot different from a few fingers. “Are you sure? I don’t want it to hurt. Or be, like… bad. Or, y’know-”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Gerard replied quickly, his breath coming in quick, sharp bursts. “Please, Frankie, please, c’mon. It’s okay, I’ve done this before. Trust me.”

Frank trusted him. He thought, Fuck it, and gave a mental shrug, and then he did as Gerard asked, quickly replacing his fingers with his dick and pushing in slowly. It was similar to fucking a girl, that tight, hot bliss, but at the same time, it was completely different. It wasn’t a girl, it was Gerard, who had his back arched and head tilted back, who was biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood and holding tight to Frank’s hand.

Frank had no stamina, and he was relatively sure that there was no way he could get Gerard to come again before he did. He wrapped his hand around Gerard’s dick and stroked sloppily. He mumbled something about not lasting much longer, and Gerard nodded and said, “It’s okay, c’mon, Frank, come for me, Frankie.”

Gerard tilted his hips and pushed back onto Frank’s cock, meeting him thrust for thrust, even though Frank’s rhythm was completely off. He threw his head back and moaned, “Oh god, Frank, fuck,” and Frank closed his eyes. He managed a few more jerky thrusts before he came with a low groan and collapsed to his elbows on top of Gerard.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered. He rearranged his limbs and tried to push himself away without hitting Gerard in the ribs, but Gerard just held him tightly and slid one hand between them to finish himself off. Gerard kissed him sloppily, more tongue and spit than necessary, and a moment later, Frank felt the wet splatter of Gerard’s come on their bellies.

Gerard let him roll off, and he grinned at Frank for a few seconds before closing his eyes. “You good?” he asked softly.

Frank thought he should probably be asking Gerard that, but Gerard was still smiling, so he figured it was probably okay. “Yeah, I’m good,” he replied. Gerard groped for Frank’s shoulder and pulled him close. “Next time,” Frank added, “I want you to fuck me.”

“Okay,” Gerard agreed. He rubbed his thumb slowly across Frank’s shoulder a few times as they both lay still, catching their breath.

“So, you’ve done that before?” Frank prompted after a minute, keeping his voice pitched low in case Gerard had actually dozed off. His eyes were closed, but Frank didn’t think his breathing was steady enough to signify sleep.

“I went to art school for two years,” Gerard murmured, giving Frank another, smaller smile without opening his eyes. “Only three times before, though. I was usually on the other end, if you know what I mean.”

“When? I mean, who? How? I mean-” Frank shut his mouth quickly. He wasn’t even sure which question he really wanted to ask.

Gerard, being sort of psychic, at least where Frank was concerned, answered the right one, one Frank hadn’t even asked. “Nobody-well, only a few people-knew who I was. I could be anyone I wanted. And I wanted to… experiment with that anonymity.” Gerard still hadn’t opened his eyes, but he’d turned his face towards Frank, and Frank could feel the gentle puffs of air hitting his throat as Gerard spoke.

“I was normal, for once,” Gerard continued. His eyes flicked open, immediately meeting Frank’s. “It was… It was really good.”

“Do you regret coming back? Not finishing school and like, going on with that other life?” Frank asked quietly. He was almost afraid of the answer, and he held his breath while he waited.

“No,” Gerard replied slowly. “No, I don’t regret it. Coming back was the right thing to do, and… I like my life here. It’s good.” He wrapped his arm tighter around Frank’s torso and squeezed gently. “Just, sometimes I think, ‘What if?’ And sometimes the things I come up with are really good too.” Gerard looked up at him, a soft, happy smile playing at his lips. “But I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

***

[ part 5b]