Fic: The Science of Sleep - Part Four

[chimneythunder]

Frank’s in such a ridiculously happy GerardGerardGerard daze that when he wakes up in the Better Living Industries world, he doesn’t mind pulling on his starched, dull grey work clothes.

They’d had such an awesome time, Frank thinks happily. Once they’d sorted the remaining paint cans, they’d collapsed onto the sofa and watched repeats of Buffy, and the best part had been how when Frank had snuggled into Gerard’s side and Gerard had put his arm around him, and they had fit together so nicely and-

Frank breaks off his inner monologue, giving his head a small shake. Since when did he turn into a teenage girl?!

He pulls on his leather gloves to hide his finger tattoos and checks his reflection over in the mirror one last time; his hair is longer and he’s a bit more toned and tanned here, but there’s something else that doesn’t quite look right. He looks a bit closer at his reflection and realises there’s several lines around his eyes he hasn’t noticed before, that his face is a lot more drawn, his cheekbones more pronounced...

He looks older, he realises with surprise. Subtly, but definitely older.

He takes one final glance and then shrugs it off. There’s been some kind of horrific disaster here; living though that would be enough to age anyone up.

As he’s walking down the corridor at BLI, heading to his work room, he’s so completely lost in thoughts of Gerard and the possible things they could talk about when he next sees him that he doesn’t notice Ray storming up to him until Ray walks right into him.

“Hey -” Frank cries out but Ray’s already got one hand on his chest, pushing him roughly back and into an empty bathroom. Ray slams the door behind them and locks it, before quickly running along and checking under all the stalls.

“Ray, what the –”

“What the fuck are you playing at?!” Ray hisses. He sounds furious and for a second, Frank can’t think why.

“What do you mean?!” he asks, completely lost- oh. Wait. Right. Frank suddenly remembers his encounter with Party Poison, which would have only been yesterday here.

“What do I – what do I mean?!” Ray asks, sounding outraged. “You’re the one who nearly got himself killed, sulking around Battery City streets, spying on people –”

“Hey, I wasn’t fucking spying on you!! I went for a walk and got lost; it’s not my fault if you happened to pick the most obvious place to have a chat with fucking Kobra Ki-”

“Shhh!!” Ray looks around, his eyes wide.

“What, they got listening devices in the toilets now?!” Frank snaps.

“They might do.”

Frank snorts.

“Look Ray, man, whatever you’re mixed up in, I want nothing to do with it,” he says, keeping his voice down, just in case.

Ray laughs bitterly. “Typical. You’re not getting off so easy this time, you’re already mixed up in it; there’s CCTV all around the city streets. If you think that no one noticed you getting out of Party Poison’s car last night –”

“How do you know about that??” Something that feels like panic is starting to form in Frank’s chest.

“I’m on the wrong side, remember?” Ray says with a wry smile. “Party told me all about why you wear those gloves and high collars...”

Frank’s stomach suddenly clenches. What else did Party Poison tell Ray?!

“Listen, I’ve got a message from the Killjoys for you,” Ray says in a low voice, leaning in close. “They want you.”

Frank’s head shoots back.

“No way. No fucking way.”

“Party said you’d say that. He also said to remind you that you’re not really in a position to argue. Something about not taking the pills and forbidden art...”

“I’m not doing it!! Besides, who’d believe him?!”

“Well, all Korse would have to do would be ask you to open your shirt to prove him wrong. If you refused, it’d immediately give it away.”

Frank gulps. “But – but why?!”

Ray shrugs. “I’m not sure exactly, to be honest. Personally, after everything that happened, I think it’s a terrible idea, but it’d probably be useful to have an inside man at your level. I mean, I can only do so much.”

Frank ignores the part about ‘everything that happened’ and thinks back to how he first met Ray here; snooping around outside Testing Room 6 with a terrible excuse and unbelievable acting.

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you’ll only be getting yourself in trouble. You think Korse is going to take kindly to you when he finds out that you’ve disobeyed company orders?”

“They’re just tattoos!!” Frank cries, forgetting to be quiet. “How are they so fucking offens-”

He’s cut off abruptly by Ray slapping his hand over Frank’s mouth.

“It’s art,” Ray says in such a whisper that Frank can barely hear him. “Come on, you know that. Even if it’s just a meaningless tribal design or a star or Chinese symbol, it’s still art. It’s individuality. It’s all the dangerous things.”

He removes his hand and gives Frank a look that clearly says are you going to be a bit quieter now?

“But... I don’t get it,” Frank says in a small voice.

And he really doesn’t. His tattoos have no meaning to anyone else other than him; how is that such a bad thing?! He’s used to getting weird looks off strangers in the street; of people pointing at him and immediately assuming he’s dangerous or mentally deranged the moment they see the scorpion on his neck. He’s used to it and he normally doesn’t care. But this... this is something else entirely.

Perhaps there’s something in Frank’s face, but Ray’s expression suddenly softens.

“Look, you’re not alone,” he says, rolling up his sleeve to reveal the letters “SL” tattooed on his upper arm. Frank wants to ask what it stands for but Ray keeps talking before he can. “But seriously Frank, you need to figure out what side you’re fighting on. You can’t straddle the divide forever.”

“I don’t want to be with the bad guys,” Frank says, aware of how childish it sounds.

“Then you’ll need to get rid of those tattoos. And you’ll have to arrest me.”

Frank looks up, horrified, but Ray only shrugs as he rolls his sleeve back down.

“Hey, you’ve got enough evidence on me. You could have arrested me last night if you’d wanted to. Speaking of, why didn’t you?”

“I – I don’t know. I just... those Drac guys freak me out and I... I couldn’t just let them find you. I’m - I’m not on your side. I just I thought you deserved a chance to run.”

Ray nods.

“Give the Killjoys a chance,” he says. “They’re very interested in you.”

“Of course they are – I killed their friend,” Frank says glumly.

Ray smiles, like Frank’s being funny. “Actually, speaking of, that’s one of the things they needed you to do; with your level, you’ve got access to pretty much everything.”

Frank thinks back to the PP Files and how much information was classified about Party Poison.

“I doubt it,” he says.

“No, seriously. Anyway, that’s one of the things they wanted you to look into; Fun Ghoul and his possible suspects.”

“I checked. It’s all unknown.”

“On the official tangible Files, yes,” Ray explains patiently. “But you’ve got computer access. That’s the stuff that wouldn’t be in the official documented files. It’s why the Killjoys need you.”

Frank frowns. “If I get caught –”

“It’s just research. No one will think anything of it; you’re the one who’s supposed to be hunting the guy down.”

Frank doesn’t look convinced. Ray sighs. “OK, think of this way; Fun Ghoul is dead. So knowing who he could have been doesn’t really affect anyone, does it?”

“I guess...”

“So, you’re not really doing anything wrong.”

“You know, this is just like when my friends at school tried to convince me smoking was cool.”

Ray laughs. “What happened?”

“Still addicted to this day.”

There’s a small pause.

“OK, fine, I’ll do it,” Frank says miserably. “I don’t like it, but you’re not exactly giving me a choice here, and I swear to God, if it gets me killed –”

“It won’t,” Ray says with a reassuring smile. “You’ll be fine. Just find out what you can. That’s all they ask. Oh, and Party said don’t try locking your window or he’ll be forced to come in the main door, which is a lot more visible and obvious.”

Frank groans. “He’s coming over tonight?!”

“Maybe not tonight, but at some point in the near future, I’d guess.”

Frank wants to cry. “Why can’t I just relegate what I find out to you and you pass it on to them?!”

“I asked him that,” Ray says with a shrug. “Party’s got his reasons, I guess.”

“I could betray you, you know,” Frank says quietly. “I could tell Korse everything now. I could go and say I kept my tattoos because I knew it’d help me fit in with undercover work, trying to infiltrate your whole organisation.”

“You could... but you won’t,” Ray says with a nod. “Firstly, that’s still too big a risk because you’ve clearly kept them secret; you might not be believed. And secondly, I know you, Iero. You’re a coward at best but you’re not an asshole.” He pauses. “You never were. You tipped me off last night about the Dracs and you won’t turn us in. Not yet, anyway. Party doesn’t think you will either –”

“What about Kobra Kid?”

Ray frowns. “He’s... he’s not convinced. But –”

“Wait wait, what does that mean??” There’s something in Ray’s tone that suggests there’s more to it.

Ray opens his mouth to reply but then checks his watch. “I’ll tell you later. I’ve got to go now.”

He turns away and unlocks the door but before he opens it, he turns back to Frank.

“Hey Frank, if I were you, I’d start thinking up a damn good excuse for what happened last night; you’re probably going to be questioned about it, not to mention have to file a report on the whole thing,” Ray says quickly, and then, just like that, he’s gone and Frank’s alone in a bathroom, feeling far more lost and isolated than ever.

Blackmail. He’s being fucking blackmailed. He walks to his usual work room, trying to keep his facial expression as neutral as ever. All of his good mood from his day with Gerard has completely vanished and he suddenly wishes Gerard was here. Gerard would probably know how to deal with this, he’d probably be able to come up with some brilliant solution that could get Frank out of this.

Maybe he needs to get out the city, out of its stifling, claustrophobic atmosphere. He could escape out into the Zones, whatever they are. He could run away, get away from this entire mess. Maybe he could even find someone who could help him to stop switching between these universes.

Gerard would probably have an idea or two, Frank thinks glumly. Gerard, with his amazing knowledge of science fiction, would probably be able to come up with a few theories on how to make it stop. And if not, maybe Gerard could talk to Mikey and get him to come up with something; from all the loose bits of hardware scattered around their house, Frank had gathered Mikey worked with computers and tech; Mikey could probably come up with some kind of machine to staple Frank back into his world...

Frank freezes outside his work room as a new terrifying thought suddenly occurs to him; not once since he started coming here has he questioned how it happened in the first place. There has not been a single moment where Frank tried to work out what kick started his arrival here. Sure, he questioned why him but never why in the first place or even how.

He feels sick and clutches the door handle for support as the walls around him spin. How could he have been so stupid??

Swallowing down the horrible taste in his mouth, he keys in the code to get the door to unlock. That’s so fucking typical of him, asking the wrong fucking questions, as usual. He’d been so preoccupied with trying to work out how everything in this world worked that he completely missed the most friggin’ obvious clue.

The door slides open and Frank stumbles inside –

Korse is waiting for him, sitting in Frank’s usual chair like he belongs there.

“AHH!”

Frank yells in horror and jumps back, crashing painfully into the wall.

“What are – what are you doing here?!” Frank gasps out. His heart is pounding painfully against his ribcage.

Korse idly waves his hand over the stack of files to be logged and the glass of water that’s always set out for Frank on the desk. He stands up and is a few feet away from Frank in one fluid movement.

“You tell me,” Korse says coolly, folding his arms and staring at Frank. “Why would I possibly want to speak to you today? Think hard Iero, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Because... because of the incident with Party Poison last night?” Frank tries not to sound as terrified as he feels but the slight tremor in his voice gives him away.

“Very good,” Korse says. “And?”

“I was going to file a report on it today.”

“I’d rather hear it straight from you,” Korse says. He hasn’t blinked since Frank came in the room and the red rings around his eyes are worse than the last time Frank saw him.

“I – I was – I -Ray Toro!” Frank says, hit with a sudden flash of inspiration. “I’ve been – I’ve been keeping an eye on him for the past week, trying to see if he slips up and divulges anything about the Killjoys; In the PP Files, he’s listed as a possible contact for Kobra Kid. Anyway, just from how he’s been talking, I decided to try and follow him, to see if he had any meet ups or anything. Anyway, I ran into some trouble with some Dracs – Draculoids –” (he corrects himself, just in case Dracs is a fairly obscure term that Korse is unfamiliar with) “- and I – I –“

He takes a deep breath, trying to slow himself down. He’s babbling, which is generally the first sign that someone’s lying.

“For whatever reason, those Draculoids have a personal dislike of me. They came after me with their guns and I – I panicked. When I saw the car pull up, I got straight in, I didn’t even see it properly.”

His pulse has quickened. Just the thought of those Dracs... their attitudes... their masks... They look ridiculous in the day time but when they’re approaching you down a dark alleyway, they suddenly become all the more nightmarish.

You OK? I saw them chase you down, thought you needed a hand...

“Yes, those Draculoids have been neutralised,” Korse says carelessly. “What happened in the car? Surely Party Poison must have realised you were an Exterminator immediately??”

“Yeah, he did... He...”

Fuck, you’re Scarecrow!!

“He was a bit shocked. I don’t think he’d realised who I was until I’d got in the car.”

Look man, I’ve just saved your life, you owe me at least that!!

“So, what happened?” Korse asks. He blinks once. There’s something reptilian about his stare at Frank tries not to look away from it, despite every fibre in his body screaming to run.

This never happened, Scarecrow. You got that? I was never here.

Well, it’s too late to lie about that. They already knew it was Party Poison in the car. But -

Look, I’m just going to drop you off here and we can forget this ever happened... What do you mean, you don’t have a gun?!! How can you not have a gun?! ... OK, I’m going to drop you off on the street where I found you, alright? The Dracs should be gone by now – can you get home quickly from there??

Party Poison was determined to get rid of him but he wasn’t going to abandon him at the mercy of the Dracs, even though he knew Frank was an Exterminator, even though he knew Frank was the enemy...

“We pulled our guns on each other at the same time,” Frank says. He can hear his own voice as though it’s not him speaking. “Like, literally, it was the moment we both realised. We reached something of an agreement – he agreed to drop me off at a safe point from the Dracs and we wouldn’t kill each other. Frankly, I’m surprised he didn’t just kill me –”

“Why didn’t you kill him?” Korse asks.

“He had his gun jammed into my rib cage. If I’d shot him –”

Korse nods.

“Also, he’s worth more alive than he is dead,” Frank adds. Under his gloves, he can feel his palms sweating. This will either convince Korse he’s telling the truth or reveal he’s lying entirely. “There’s so much we still don’t know about the man, like the whole Killjoy movement and network and who’s connected to who. If he’s dead, that knowledge dies with him.”

For what feels like an age, Korse stares at him with those terrifying, unblinking black eyes which seem to pop out from his deathly pale skin. And then...

He nods once.

“Fascinating,” Korse says in a tone that suggests anything but. “You’re having quite the exciting week Iero.”

“You’re telling me,” Frank says, swallowing nervously.

There’s another tense silence. Frank wants to fidget. His clothes feel like they’re strangling him, the room feels like it’s closing in on him.

“You still seem a bit tense today,” Korse says, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Have you taken your medication?”

Frank nods.

“I’d take another dose if I were you. Sometimes, in times of greater stress and trauma than usual, the usual amount isn’t enough.”

Frank nods again. There it is again, the mention of pills and medication. Why is everyone apparently dosed up to their eyeballs here?!

“Actually...” Korse says thoughtfully, then reaches into one of the pockets of his coat and pulls out a small white bottle with the BLI logo stamped on the side. “I’d rather you take one now rather than wait until your break.”

He pops open the bottle and shakes out a tiny white pill onto the palm of his hand.

“I – I can’t take yours,” Frank stammers out. “The dose –”

“It won’t do much difference. Besides, it’s impossible to overdose on these.”

He holds it out to Frank, the red edges of his eyes tight, like he’s challenging Frank to say no. It’s the only hint of any kind of expression or emotion in Korse’s face.

It’s a test, Frank realises with horror. And if he fails, the consequences will be dire.

Everything goes into tunnel vision. Before him, Frank can see is Korse’s grey-tinged face, his dark eyes, his pale lips, the grey bags and red lines around and under his eyes. Out the bottom of his view, he sees his own grey-gloved hand reach out. Korse drops the white pill into his outstretched palm, handing him the glass of water from the desk as well.

Frank looks at the tiny pill in his hand. It’s virtually weightless. He can’t feel it above the leather of his glove. In his other hand, there’s the glass of water.

It’s fucking suicide to take a pill when you don’t know what it does. His throat feels tight, he can hardly breathe anymore. His heart is pounding so hard that he’s pretty sure Korse can hear it. Beads of sweat collect on his forehead and under his clothes, making the material stick to his skin.

It could kill him.

But if he doesn’t... Korse will know. Korse will know everything.

He’s hesitating too much.

With a deep breath, he chucks the pill into his mouth and gulps it down quickly with a mouthful of cold water. He doesn’t choke – he doesn’t even taste it. He barely dares to breathe, waiting for the effects – waiting for his heart to stop, waiting for pain, waiting for –

“Excellent. That should help you focus a bit,” Korse says. He doesn’t sound pleased, but he doesn’t sound angry either. “I’ll expect a full write up of your report on your encounter with Party Poison tomorrow.”

He brushes past Frank, who’s staring at the floor.

“Why do the Dracs hate me?”

Korse stops and turns back to look at the shorter man. The words sound oddly flat, like there’s no real curiosity behind them but it’s just a question to be asked.

Korse shrugs. “Draculoids are the most volatile creatures in this city. They’re lethal and excellent for keeping the people protected but... well. They talk. Rumours fly. They get echoes of their pasts... and after your encounter with Fun Ghoul...” He trails off, looking at Frank intently.

Frank is still staring blankly at the floor. There’s an odd glazed look over his eyes and his breathing has already noticeably slowed and calmed down.

Korse nods, satisfied. “The ones who attacked you have been neutralised and reassigned. Now, get back to work, Iero. And don’t forget the report.”

The door slides shut behind Korse. Wordlessly, Frank sits down in the chair and turns on the computer, mechanically reaching for the first file to log. He tilts his head to one side slightly as he looks at it, his facial expression completely neutral.


~*~*~


Frank continues his task until lunch time. On the hour precisely, he stops working and calmly stands up from his desk.

“Hey man, where’s your usual coffee?” Ray asks.

Frank looks down. There’s a bottle of water in one hand and a small BLI pill capsule pod in the other. He’s also now in the canteen. Huh. He doesn’t remember even leaving the room.

“I didn’t want one,” he says, sitting down opposite Ray.

Ray gives him a strange look.

“Are you OK?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” Frank says calmly.

Fine isn’t quite the best word, maybe. Everything he’s felt since he first got here; the confusion, the suspicion, the fear; it’s all gone. Perhaps he should be feeling elated at this. Relieved, maybe? But he’s not. He’s not really anything. Detached? Whatever. Frank’s not too bothered trying to work it out. He’s ok with not really understanding anything. He can just get on.

“What’s that in your hand?” Ray suddenly asks.

“I haven’t taken my medication,” Frank automatically says.

He vaguely remembers his computer screen and a soothing voice reminding him to. Well, why not? The soothing voice could be trusted. The voice would keep him safe. Battery City is the safest place in the world and Better Living Industries keep them all protected. Frank likes being safe.

Ray’s eyes widen. He looks... Frank tries to think of the word.

“What happened?!” Ray asks.

Horrified. That’s the word. Ray looks like something terrible has happened.

“Korse spoke to me when I got into my room,” Frank says. His own voice sounds strange to him. Flat. A complete monotone. “He made me take one of his pills.”

Ray covers his mouth with his hand.

“Oh my God...”

What? Frank wants to ask. It’s the truth. He’s just relayed events as they happened. It’s not that bad.

He doesn’t though. He doesn’t care enough to find out why Ray’s reacting like this. Instead, he pops the top off the pill pot in his hand and pours out a single tiny white pill onto the palm of his hand.

“Did – did you tell him??” Ray’s gone very pale, Frank notices.

“What?”

“About – about – about me...” he whispers in a strangled voice.

“No,” Frank says with a blink. “It didn’t come up, I saw no need to mention it.”

Ray looks slightly relieved but then his eyes dart to Frank’s hand.

“Wait,” he says. His hand is suddenly covering Frank’s, covering the pill.

Frank looks up and blinks again.

“I – I don’t think you should take that,” Ray stammers. “It’s – you’ve already taken one of Korse’s and he’s probably on a much higher dose. You don’t want to risk overdosing, do you?”

“It’s impossible to overdose on these,” Frank says simply, pulling his hand out from Ray’s.

“Still!!” Ray says, his voice suddenly much higher as he talks quickly. “Frank, I – I really don’t think you should be messing with the doses. One pill alone would probably last 12 hours – you really don’t need one now. It’s – it’s just a waste of resources!”

Frank’s hand is almost at his mouth, the white pill nesting safely in his palm.

“You’re right,” he says after a moment’s pause, lowering his hand. “After all, Better Living can’t provide an unlimited supply of everything if we’re so careless.”

Ray lets out a large breath.

“Yeah... look. Don’t – just don’t take any more of their pills, OK?”

Frank looks at the one in his hand. He works out the time he’ll need until he can take his next dose. He should have more pills at home. Why wouldn’t he? He lives here. They provide.

“I’ll wait,” he says, with a nod.

Ray looks like he wants to say something more but –

Frank blinks and he’s back at his desk.

“Welcome back Frank,” says the computer. “Did you enjoy your lunch? Have you taken your medication?”

“I have,” Frank answers. “Thank you.”

He picks up the first file, only to notice a pile of completed work to his right. Oh. He must have done that and forgotten.

He continues his task. Something’s nagging at the back of his mind which only gets stronger as the day goes on. It’s like there’s something he’s forgotten to do but he can’t remember what.

Worse still, he seems to be having some kind of reaction to something. Underneath the leather glove, the back of his right hand is itching. He rubs at it through the thick leather but it does nothing to alleviate it. Instead, he feels another itch, this time under his jaw. He scratches it...

The itching gets worse as the hours tick by. Random parts of his body suddenly are affected; his hip. The back of his knee. The end of his nose. Under his left foot. His entire scalp.

Something’s wrong. He should have taken his medication at lunch. He shouldn’t have listened to Ray. Far too late, he realises that scratching only makes it worse.

Somewhere, he hears a voice in his head whisper one word; withdrawal. But that’s impossible. He only had one. He looks up at the clock, trying to work out how much longer he’s got to deal with this until he can go home and take the next dose – Oh. It’s already the end of the day.

He looks at the pile of uncompleted folders except they’ve all been completed.

“What the –”

His voice comes out as a whisper. He’s not confused... but there’s something missing. Something that’s been off all day. Like there’s a space in his chest where -

On autopilot, he shreds the completed files, grabs his coat and leaves.

“Thank you for your work today. Have a Better Day, Frank,” says the computer in that same soothing voice as he leaves.

He sits in the back of the car and tries to not to think of the particularly nagging itch on his forehead. Or his shins. For the first time, doesn’t even try to talk to the driver. When he’s dropped off outside his apartment building, Frank doesn’t say ‘thank you’ or ‘goodnight.’ It doesn’t bother him.

When Frank gets into his spotless apartment, it’s stiflingly hot. He pulls off his gloves and throws them into the far corner of the room (they stand out almost comically, random clutter against the impeccable neatness of the entire flat. Frank’s pretty sure that even the tins in the kitchen cupboard are stacked by height order) unbuttons his shirt midway down his chest and unbuckles his belt. His clothes are uncomfortably tight and pressing against the itch unbearably. He crosses the floor and pushes the window open as far as it can go. For a few minutes, he leans out on the window sill, breathing deeply and letting the cool air gently blow against his skin. It feels refreshing and soothes the itch slightly.

But only slightly.

He turns back into his apartment. He must keep his medication somewhere here. He has to. It’s BLI policy. He needs his next dose. It must be time for his next dose. He needs his next dose. It must be time for his next dose-

“What the fuck happened in here?!”

Frank looks up and – Oh. He’s suddenly walking out the kitchen. His apartment is completely trashed – every cushion’s been thrown off the sofa, every drawer emptied and contents scattered across the floor - and Party Poison is standing in the middle of it, looking completely bemused.

Frank looks down at the mess.

“Did you do this?” he asks.

“I just got here, asshole,” Party snaps.

“I – I think I was looking for something,” Frank says slowly, idly scratching his forearm.

“You were looking for – shit, what have you done?!” Party suddenly cries out in horror and then he’s in front of Frank, yanking his arm away, stopping him scratching himself. Frank looks down - against the vivid lines of his tattoos, his arm is red raw with a few droplets of blood rising to the surface in places. He must have been scratching it for quite a while...

“How did that happen?” Frank says stupidly.

“Frank – look at me,” Party says, and suddenly his hands are cupping the sides of Frank’s face. His fingertips are dry and tough, and the rough texture of his leather gloves rubs against the skin of Frank’s jaw in such a way that it almost brings blessed relief from this itch. They’re so close that Frank can see the finer worn details on Party’s mask, where the yellow paint has cracked, where the blue has started to chip, how Party’s hazel eyes are focusing on Frank’s lips...

Before Frank can question it, Party leans in and kisses him. Frank feels his tongue in his mouth and he doesn’t try to stop him. He doesn’t try to respond. He doesn’t close his eyes. His arms hang motionlessly by his side.

Party pulls back abruptly.

“Oh Frankie,” he says, like something terrible has happened. “They got to you.”

There’s something in Party Poison’s voice, in the way he says oh Frankie. It’s familiar and Frank can’t think for the life of him why.

“Who did?”

“BLI. You took the pills, didn’t you?”

“Korse gave me one earlier today.” He sees no reason to lie.

“And how do you feel?” Party asks. His hands are still cupping Frank’s face

Frank opens his mouth to answer but then frowns.

“I – don’t know.”

Party nods, a grim smile on his face. “If you’re confused by that then it’s starting to wear off. Ray said you’d taken something. I didn’t want to believe him but it looks like those bastards got to you first.”

He lets his hands drop and Frank stares at him.

“How many have you taken?” Party asks.

“Just the one. I missed my dose at lunch but I – I thought I’d be alright till I got home,” he admits. He doesn’t realise he’s scratching his arm until Party grabs his hand, gripping it tightly.

“Don’t make me make you wear fucking mittens,” he growls, although there’s a hint of a smile on his face.

“I don’t care,” Frank groans, trying to pull his hand free.

“You will when you’ve scratched all that pretty art off your skin,” Party says calmly –

Frank‘s lying on the ground, the side of his face pressed into the carpet, the heel of Party Poison’s boot pressing into his cheek.

“- and it’s not even funny anymore,” he’s saying. Frank can feel him yanking and pulling at his wrists as he... is he tying them together?!

“What?! What’s happening?!” Frank cries out.

“What?! You just attacked me, fucker!”

“No I didn’t!!”

“Yes you did! You just came at me –”

“No I didn’t!!”

Frank squirms, trying to get away – motherfucker, it hurts – but Party’s got him pinned.

“OK Frank, I’m going to let you go if you promise you’ve calmed down –”

“I have!!” Frank says desperately.

“Are you sure!”

“Yes!!” He tries to nod but that only makes his face rub even more painfully against the carpet.

The pressure on the side of his head is suddenly gone. He doesn’t even get to sit up as Party Poison’s already grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into an upright sitting position against the back of the sofa. His hands are bound together in front of him, tied together with a blue bandana that’s covered with white stars.

“OK, you calmer now?” Party asks. His hair is messed up and his mask is crooked. Frank’s so confused and disorientated –

“What’s happening to me?” he asks.

“You’re crashing. Hard.”

“Crashing from what?!” Frank asks. His heart is pounding and his breath is hitching; he can’t breathe as a huge wave of inexplicable panic suddenly floods through him.

“The pills.”

Frank gasps, spasms taking over his entire body. He’s choking and spots dance in front of his eyes; he feels sick.

“I – I – I can’t – breathe!!”

“It’ll pass,” Party says in oddly calm tone. He’s crouching down in front of Frank, one hand firmly pressed against Frank’s shoulder, pinning him up.

“What- what did you do to me?!”

“Deep breaths, you’ll get through this,” Party says. “Going cold turkey sucks but it’s the only way.”

“But – I only took one!!”

“Come on Frankie, you’ve been through this before – that kind of stuff doesn’t matter. One dose is all it takes to get the addiction going again.”

“I don’t remember it!!” Frank wails. “Why don’t I remember –”

Oh right. Parallel universe. He forgot.

“I didn’t do this,” Frank says desperately. “I haven’t done this before, I can’t – I’m scared!!”

Party Poison nods. “You can’t remember it,” he says softly. “The addiction –”

“I’m not addicted –”

Party suddenly presses his hand against Frank’s mouth, silencing him.

“You’re getting too loud,” he says quietly. “You’ll draw attention to yourself.”

Frank tries to scream but it’s muffled by Party’s hand. He can’t breathe –

“Stop screaming and shouting and I’ll take my hand away, OK?” Party says in that same quiet voice. “But you’ve really got to stop screaming. I don’t want to have to gag you. Can you do that?”

Frank nods desperately. Party’s hand is suddenly gone and he can breathe again. He takes deep, shaking gulps of air.

“Easy Frankie, you’re not through the worst of it yet,” Party says gently.

Frank’s about to ask him what the hell he means by that when every nerve ending in his body goes haywire. He cries out, hunching and arching his back, his legs thrashing out. Party grabs him, his arms wrapping around his body, and Frank wishes to God he hadn’t because he suddenly wants more, he wants to push himself against Party, to feel his lips against his own again, to bite down on his lip, to have Party run his hands all over his tattoos like Gerard did – and Gerard - Frank wishes he was here because at least then he wouldn’t be so completely and utterly alone, like he’s felt since he first got here. He lets out a strangled noise and realises he’s crying, sobbing hysterically, completely uncontrollably...

Party Poison keeps his arms around Frank, patting his back awkwardly and murmuring soothing words. The physical contact helps calm Frank down eventually, despite who it’s from.

“Look, this’ll pass,” Party Poison’s saying. “It’s... how they work. The pills. They... they kinda mute everything you’re feeling, which is fine if you keep taking them but when you stop, it all comes rushing back.”

“God, I’m such a fucking mess,” Frank eventually manages to choke out.

Party Poison holds him at arms length, studying him.

“Yup, you are,” he says after a moments inspection.

A giggle escapes Frank’s throat. It’s more like a choked cough than an actual sound of laughter but it’s unmistakably mirth. He takes a few deep calming breaths and wipes his eyes on the edge of his sleeve.

“Come on, that’s it,” Party says encouragingly. “Deep breaths... You just gotta get hold of it.”

Frank snorts. “Get hold of it... right. Because I was doing so well beforehand.”

“Well, you’re not crying anymore!”

Mortification suddenly fills Frank’s entire body as he realises Party Poison still has his arms around him, because what the actual fuck is he doing?? He’s just completely fallen to pieces in front of Party fucking Poison -

“I swear to God, if you tell Ray about this...” Frank says, trying to sound as threatening as he can.

Party looks amused and mimes locking the side of his mouth. “It dies with me, Iero,” he says. “No seriously though, no one – and I mean no one – would mock you for this. We’ve all been there, we all know what it’s like, and the fact that you’ve had to go through this twice -”

“Twice?” Frank asks thickly.

Party gives Frank a very pitying look.

“The first time, Frankie,” he says, like it’s obvious. “You wouldn’t have got to where you are today without being dosed at some point. Fuck, they must have really had you on a strong cocktail...”

Frank wants to slam his body against Party’s, pin him to the ground and rub up against him whilst simultaneously tearing off his own face, curling up in a corner and screaming until his lungs give out.

“Really?” he asks darkly, feeling a tremor run across his skin.

“You’ll be fine.”

They lapse back into silence again. Party Poison finally lets go of Frank and shifts his weight so that he’s still sitting on Frank’s ankles. As he moves, the beads around his wrist jangle, catching Frank’s attention.

“What’s with the jewellery?” Frank asks, trying to distract himself.

“Huh? Oh, these?” Party Poison holds up his wrist in front of Frank’s face so Frank can see the beads. “Bad luck beads. They stop bad luck from finding you because you always know where it is.”

“Huh,” Frank says, and that’s all his energy gone again. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the surface behind him. He’s so tired, so fucking exhausted but his body is still too alert to relax.

“I can’t do this again... What do I do if Korse decides to spring another surprise attack on me again?” he asks, opening his eyes.

Party grins and in that instant, he’s changed from friendly and vaguely goofy to animalistic and incredibly dangerous.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get him off your back... I’ve got a few things planned,” he says, like he’s enjoying the idea. He flashes his teeth as he smiles and Frank suddenly notices that he’s got really weird, tiny straight teeth, kinda a bit like –

“Now, to business,” Party says suddenly. Frank blinks and forgets what he was thinking.

“Huh?”

“Business,” Party says with that same untrustworthy smile. “The nature of you working for the Fabulous Killjoys.”

Frank groans and leans back. “That’s why you came over?”

“Well, I wanted to see if you’d accepted our offer or not.”

“What offer? Last time I checked, it was ‘work for us or else we rat you out to Korse’! Did I miss the fine print or something?”

“No no, you pretty much got it. I just wanted to make sure you were OK with it...”

Frank stares at Party incredulously.

“... and I also wanted to make sure you hadn’t hidden a bunch of listening devices or something around here,” he adds, looking around the ruined apartment.

“I might have done,” Frank admits. “I – I can’t remember. I – I’ve got blanks. In my memories.”

Party nods. “Yup. Standard side effect.

There’s an oddly bitter tone to his voice as he says that and Frank’s not too sure how to respond. His cheeks are still wet; without thinking, he leans forwards and wipes his remaining tears off on Party’s bandana that is still holding his wrists together.

“Lovely,” Party says dryly. “I have to keep that around my face and now it’s covered in your snot.”

“You shouldn’t have used it to tie me up then.”

“You attacked me – I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. And I could have asked where you kept the handcuffs but I’m not sure if we’re quite ready for that yet...”

Frank’s about to say something when Party Poison leans in and kisses him again. It’s a softer, much gentler kiss than before and Frank’s about to pull away when he remembers what Party initially told him about the pills and how they made people taste differently.

He closes his eyes and tries not to kiss back with too much enthusiasm. He tries not to think about how his hands are tied or how Party Poison is practically sitting on top of him, kneeling in fact with one leg on either side of Frank’s own, and he most definitely does not think about reaching up with his bound hands and tangling them in the front of Party’s t-shirt, pulling him in closer. Party’s not helping matters though; for someone who’s only supposed to be ‘testing,’ he’s certainly putting a lot of effort in. His fingers lightly trace over Frank’s jaw, lacing through Frank’s hair and his lips move softly in time with Frank’s own, his tongue tracing the shape of Frank’s lips and tasting the inside of his mouth...

When Party pulls away, Frank blinks stupidly a few times.

“What do you do when you’re trying to test your own mother?!” Frank mutters.

Party licks his lips thoughtfully. “Still some remaining... most of it’s out your system though, which is a good thing.”

“Oh goodie. Fan-fucking-tastic.”

“What?!” Party sounds confused.

“I – never mind.”

Frank wants to say something about how he doesn’t like how he feels completely used every time Party kisses him, especially when he could probably get the same results from licking a glass Frank had just used. He wants to tell him about Gerard, about how things are just starting with them and how he doesn’t want to fuck things up already by kissing someone else (even if it’s someone in a parallel universe). He wants to tell Party he’s not sure what he thinks about him anymore; far from being the deadly, wanted criminal Frank’s supposed to be chasing, so far Frank’s found him to be an oddly fascinating and complex person who’s had plenty of opportunities to kill or injure Frank but hasn’t taken any of them.

He wants to tell him that this thought alone terrifies him more than anything else.

“What?” Party Poison presses.

“It’s nothing. Untie me already.”

“You sure?” Party look sceptical. “You go for me again and I’ll shoot you.”

Frank thinks this is an idle threat but he decides against saying this as Party leans forward and unties his wrists, shoving the soggy bandana into one of his pockets. Frank rubs his wrists but doesn’t try to get up; he still feels incredibly fragile, like his skin is made of paper and his bones are trembling underneath. If he moves too much, he’ll fall to pieces completely.

Party stands up and looks around. “Where do you keep the first aid kit?”

“Kitchen,” Frank says, because it’s the same place he keeps it at home. “Top shelf of the cupboard.”

Party disappears into the kitchen and when he returns, he’s carrying a white box in his hands with the BLI logo stamped on the side. He crouches down in front of Frank and opens the box.

“OK... disinfectant wipes and bandages,” he says, pulling out two cellophane-wrapped white packages and ripping them open. Without another word, he gently takes Frank’s arm and wipes it down. Frank hisses; where he’s clawed at his own skin, it stings like a motherfucker.

“Don’t think you’ll need any painkillers,” Party continues as he starts to bandage it up, “Although with what’s happened, I can imagine you probably wouldn’t want to take anymore pills!”

Satisfied that the bandage is securely tied, Party looks back in the box and shifting through it. Frank’s about to ask what he’s looking for but then Party starts pulling out more white cellophane packages and stuffing them in his pockets.

“Are you robbing me?!” Frank asks, disbelief coursing through him.

“Yup!”

“Wh – but – why!?”

“I’m running low on a few supplies... and with a face as gorgeous as mine, I can’t exactly go into a BLI pharmacy and top up. There’d be riots.”

“And probably several teenage pregnancies,” Frank nods. “Children crying, old ladies shrieking...”

“Exactly. Total and utter chaos.” Party nods, completely deadpan, then grins. “My kind of party.”

“Please don’t tell me that’s where you got the name from,” Frank groans.

Party Poison laughs and stands up.

“Well, I think that’s your medical supplies sufficiently depleted. Time for me to make my escape before someone sends in some Dracs to investigate the noise.”

There’s no pretence of staying for any other reason. Party Poison got what he came for and now he’s going. It’s a shame that he’s technically the enemy because he’s actually the third person that Frank’s had the most contact with in this world, after Ray and Korse.

Frank can’t be bothered to get up off the floor to see him off. The idea of moving too much still feels like a tremendous effort. Party’s walking back to the window when his foot gets caught on the bottom drawer that’s partly sticking out and he stumbles, and as he does, the drawer flies open with the momentum.

“Smooth,” Frank snorts.

Party flips him off in response, but then he looks down and frowns.

“What’s that?” he asks, nudging the drawer with his foot.

“My underwear, probably,” Frank says dryly.

“You keep your underwear in a combination safe?”

“What?”

Reluctantly, Frank crawls over. Sure enough, there’s a safe in there that takes up the entire bottom drawer. There’s a numerical keypad on the left and a small 4-digit screen.

“Open it,” Party says. His entire tone has changed from the playful teasing moments ago to cold and serious.

“Fuck off.”

“Open it or I shoot you,” Party says and he pulls out his gun this time, pointing it at Frank’s head.

Frank’s never been held at gunpoint before, not at the end of a threat. Sure, the Dracs had pointed their guns at him but that was an execution. This is a threat, and it’s all the more terrifying. Frank’s mind goes blank with shock as he looks down the barrel of Party’s gun and all he can suddenly focus on is the design on it, of how the black stripes contrast against the yellow body vividly with a stripe of red running horizontally along the body underneath the vertical black. There’s kanji along the red stripe and Frank’s not sure if it’s Japanese or Chinese, let alone what it means and the end of the barrel is blackened and charred where it’s been burnt from use...

“Iero!!”

“What’s the writing mean?” Frank asks, then winces because that is seriously not the right question to be asking right now.

“‘Give me your money,’” Party translates. “And stop stalling! Open the safe!”

Frank looks over to the safe and then back to Party. He tries to look past the gun and at Party’s face but he can’t do it.

“I don’t know how. I don’t know the combination,” he says.

“What do you mean, you don’t know the combination!? It’s your safe!”

“I didn’t even know I had it,” Frank says and from the incredulous noise that Party makes, Frank realises he’s said the wrong thing again. Shit, it might have been better to lie and say it was something like BLI standard issue and he’d never used it.

Party still hasn’t lowered his gun and Frank can feel a wave of hysteria about to come crashing over him again. He takes deep breaths through his nose, trying not to completely lose it.

“OK, OK, I’ll try it,” he says. “I’m not sure what the combination is.”

“That’ll be the pills. Try to remember the combination, Frankie.”

“I – I don’t know! I’m not even sure what it could be!”

Perhaps it’s because of how badly his voice is shaking but Party finally lowers his gun. Frank turns back to the safe. It’s his safe, for crying out loud. He should be able to get in. What would he chose as the combination?

He types in 3110. It doesn’t work. Neither does 3181.

“What’s the numbers?” Party asks as Frank types in 1081. It doesn’t work.

“My birthday,” Frank replies simply as he tries 1981 to no success.

Fuck.

“You were born in 1981?” Party asks, sounding interested.

1031 doesn’t work either.

“Yeah, why?”

8110. Still nothing.

“No reason. I thought... I dunno. You’re 38. I thought you were younger.”

Maybe the combination’s backwards? Or maybe it’s not even his birthday? Maybe it’s his mother’s birthday or something? Or maybe it’s something incredibly simple, like 0000 as a double bluff? No... even he wouldn’t be that stupid... would he?

He types in 0000 and is not at all surprised when it doesn’t work.

“Sorry, what?” he asks, looking up at Party. “I wasn’t listening.”

Party shrugs. “Don’t worry.”

“Why’s it matter what’s in here?” Frank asks, gesturing to the safe. “I’m not even sure myself.”

“The fact that you’ve even got it means you’ve got something to hide,” Party says.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“True,” Party says thoughtfully. “Still...”

“Look, if I figure it out, I’ll let you know, OK?” Frank has no idea what’s in the safe but he’s beyond caring at this point. More than anything, he wants to crawl into bed and be done with this day here. He’s been dosed up unwillingly and suffered the worst come-down he’s ever had in his life (including that weekend in collage where he took so many pills one Friday night and woke up the following Monday with absolutely no recollection of what he’d done all weekend) and technically, this is the second day in a row he’s found himself staring at the wrong end of a gun.

Yeah... to say that he’s had enough would be putting it mildly.

“Try to remember that combination,” Party says with a dangerous smile. “I want to see what Scarecrow has to hide.”


~*~*~


Opening his eyes, Frank lies there for a few minutes on his back, blinking up at the ceiling. The sound of his breathing sounds amplified in his own head but is oddly soothing to hear and for a while, he lets himself be lulled by it.

In... and out... in... and out...

He stares at the sign he pinned up on the ceiling before he went to sleep here last time. It was something Gerard had suggested; all it says is home on it in bright red letters but it’s comforting to see. On a separate piece of paper next to it, it says in massive letters SUNDAY.

Sunday. Right. No work. His immediate thought it to call Gerard and see if he wants to hang out but then he realises that despite how time’s running for him, he technically only saw Gee yesterday. He doesn’t want to come across as too clingy or needy.

Instead, he gets up, makes a fresh pot of coffee and gets in the shower. He tidies and cleans his apartment thoroughly, from dusting the shelves, washing the kitchen floor, fluffing the pillows and emptying and washing the ashtrays (which is pretty self-defeating because he’s chain smoking the whole time he’s tidying). He goes through his clothes and makes a pile of clothes to throw out because they don’t really fit anymore or he never wears them. At about midday, he realises he’s running low on certain food substances, so he pulls on his jacket and heads out to the shops. When he gets back, he decides that what he really needs to do is to sort the contents of his cupboards alphabetically. Frank’s got the doors open and he’s reaching for the nearest tin of tomato soup when the phone rings.

“Hello?” he answers, trying not to sound too grateful to whoever’s calling. As long as it’s not bad news, he’ll take any callers at the moment. Heck, he’ll even humour telemarketers for a bit if he has to.

“Hey Frankie! What you up to?”

Frank nearly drops the phone in horror.

“Party Poison!?”

“What?! Hello? Hello?? Frank, you there? It’s me, Gerard!”

“... Gerard?”

“Yeah.... remember me? Arty guy from Starbucks, you came over to mine and I threw paint cans over you and then we had some excellent kissing and geeky conversations?”

Frank laughs, relief rushing through him. “Yes, of course I remember you. You just sounded like... someone else.”

“Party Poison? Isn’t that one of the characters from your novel?”

“Yeah, but he’s based on someone I used to know...”

“Riiiiggghhtt. Anyway, I was wondering, what are you doing?”

“Finding a cure for cancer.”

“Really? How’s that going?”

Perhaps Frank’s imagining it but he thinks he can hear Gerard smiling.

“Yeah, it’s going really well,” Frank says, cradling the phone between his shoulder and face. “I’ve mostly been making it out of fried eggs and common household cleaner.”

“Amazing. You should try adding in some aftershave, I find that’s generally always the missing compound.”

Frank grins. Gerard’s such a dork.

“I’ll remember that,” he says, patting down his pockets for his cigarettes. “So, what about you? Doing anything interesting?”

“Saving the world, mostly. It gets a bit dull after a while though.”

“I can imagine.”

Frank succeeds in finding a cigarette and lighting it up, taking a drag.

“Yeah, anyway,” Gerard continues, “So when you’re not finding a cure for cancer and all, what you doing today? Coz I was thinking, I know I saw you yesterday and I didn’t want to come across as really clingy or full-on but I’m bored and I like seeing you and –”

“I’d love to,” Frank cuts across Gerard’s babbling. “Whatever it is you’re planning, I’m in.”

“Great! I’ll call the strippers!”

Frank laughs.

“No seriously though, I was just thinking movies at mine? Mikey’s just got the ultimate collection of 1950’s horror movies delivered in the week.”

“Are there werewolves?” Frank asks.

“Yup.”

“And really awful special effects?”

“Of the best kind,” Gerard promises.

“Perfect! When can I come over?”

“How long does curing cancer take? Come over when you’re done?”

“I’ll see you then,” Frank says.

“Great! It’s a date,” Gerard says and then hangs up.

Date. Definitely a date. Frank’s heart does an excited leap in his chest.

Frank’s been on some real shockers of dates before. Quite possibly, the worst one in recent years was that guy in Accounts at work who had seemed perfectly normal after a few weeks of playful flirting when he’d suggested they went for drinks. Everything was going fine until he started talking about how he’d held a knife to his dad’s back after a fight and that one time he tried to burn down a church. There was also the really hot punky guy who Frank had met at a gig; they’d actually been going out for a few months before Frank discovered he also had three kids with his fiancé. And then there was the time Frank’s mum had tried to set him with that doctor who was the son of someone she went to church with; the doctor had insisted on ordering meat lasagne for Frank despite Frank repeatedly saying “but I’m a vegetarian” and then tried to get Frank to foot the bill...

The date with Gerard turns out to be one of the best one he’s been on in a while. They watch some of Mikey’s old movies together and later on, when they’re sitting on the sofa, Gerard’s drawing in his sketchbook while Frank snuggles in next to him and finally gets to read some more of his trashy Sci-Fi book.

“Haven’t you finished that yet?” Gerard asks, not looking up from his sketchbook.

“Nope. Been a bit busy,” Frank says, leaning against Gerard’s side.

“What’s happened so far?”

“Aliens landed. There’s something going on with the main character, you can just tell he’s about to find out something big, like it’ll turn out he’s been unconsciously working for the aliens all along.”

Gerard snorts. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, it’s been hinted at throughout, like he’s getting all these blackouts and memory lapses.” Frank flips through to the right page and settles into his book.


“I had to speak to the professor. The professor would know what to do.

‘Ahh, I see,’ said the professor when I’d finished. ‘Quite the conundrum you’re in there.’

‘I know,’ I said, feeling a well of despair rising up inside of me. ‘I’m so lost. I don’t understand anymore . I’m supposed to be the hero and save the world but I just don’t know how!’

‘Well, my dear boy, I suppose it all boils down to what you already know and knowing what you don’t know,’ the professor explained.

‘I... I don’t understand,’ I said, frustrated.

‘Well, you know what you know, do you not? What do you already know?’

‘About?’

‘About the aliens, dear boy! Keep up!!’ He chuckled and looked over the top of his spectacles at me. Behind the glass, his piercing blue eyes twinkled.”


Frank’s interest in the book suddenly starts to slip, which probably has something to do with how Gerard’s lips are lightly caressing the back of his neck. Frank ignores him and continues reading.


“I thought about it.

‘I know that they can’t swim. And they’re made of some kind of metal...’

‘Excellent. Now, you need to think about what you don’t know. For example, is the metal simply an exoskeleton that protects the inside like a suit of armour or is that the actual skin of the beast, in which case, we need to question how they are born or made.’”


One of Gerard’s arms snakes its way around Frank’s side, pulling him up closer against Gerard’s side.

“What are you doing?” Frank asks, a grin on his face.

“Nuthin’,” Gerard replies, lightly nibbling on Frank’s earlobe. Frank grins and twists his head to the side slightly, but Gerard’s got other plans.

“Nope, bad Frankie,” he says in a low voice that sends shivers all the way up and down Frank’s spine. “You should be reading.”

Frank stares back at the book. He gets about as far as recognising there are blocks of text on the page before his attention gets zoned in on how the hand that’s wrapped around his waist is lightly tracing circles over his stomach. Through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, every sense feels magnified. Gerard’s nuzzling, his lips now exploring the back of Frank’s other ear.

“Read to me, Frankie,” Gerard says and there’s a small part of Frank’s brain that’s impressed how Gee can sound so innocent and completely seductive at the same time.

“You don’t even know how the story goes!” Frank protests, trying to turn around so he can kiss Gerard.

“I’m curious,” Gerard says, his voice muffled slightly by Frank’s hair. “And I’m sure I can keep up. Read to me.”

Frank wants to close his eyes and arch his back, press himself against Gerard and –

“‘How are they made?’” he reads out in a steady voice. He can feel Gerard’s hot breath against the skin on his neck. “‘Do you mean born by some natural force or created by another being?’”

Gerard’s tongue traces over Frank’s scorpion tattoo. Frank’s breath catches in his throat.

“Go on,” Gerard murmurs. “Keep reading.”

His teeth scrape over Frank’s neck. Frank gulps. He is so unbelievably turned on right now, he’s not even sure how he’s supposed to continue.

“‘Yes, precisely. And – and – with the alien beings, they – they –”

Gerard’s fingertips slowly - deliberately – creep lower down Frank’s stomach.

“Go on, Frankie. What do the aliens do?”

God rot him, Frank can fucking feel Gerard’s lips twisting in a smile.

“‘Theymustbegettingtheirpowerfromsomewhere,’” Frank reads out in one long gush. Gerard’s hand is playing with the edge of Frank’s t-shirt, his fingers brushing against the skin underneath and Frank suddenly wonders where the hell Gerard’s other hand is. “’And thus, we might have the reason they’re here...’”

Frank doesn’t even realise he’s been angling his face further and further back towards Gerard until Gerard’s other hand suddenly comes around the side of Frank’s head, fingers gently but firmly pushing Frank’s face back towards the book, holding him in place.

“Behave, Frankie,” Gee purrs.

“You’re such a fucking tease.”

“I’m sure that’s not part of the book.”

“Yeah, yeah it is, it’s right in this part, right here,” says Frank, snapping the book shut and twisting his entire body around to face Gerard – and then abruptly, one of Gerard’s hands is on Frank’s shoulder, pushing him back and there’s movement and it’s so fucking fast that Frank realises somehow, Gerard’s actually managed to manoeuvre him so they’re both lying horizontal on the sofa with Gerard on top, pinning Frank in place between his legs.

Gerard’s grinning like the Cheshire-fucking-Cat, sitting back and looking at Frank with the most intense expression on his face.

“Now now Frankie, behave,” Gerard says again. “Good things come to those who wait, you know?”

Frank tries to sit up but Gerard plants a hand in the centre of his chest, pushing him down firmly and holding him down. Gerard leans forward, his long black hair falling down and tickling the side of Frank’s face. He’s too close for Frank to see his entire face anymore, so Frank focuses on his eyes; they’re surrounded by shadow but they’re hazel and ...

Familiar?

Gerard pulls back slightly.

“What?” he asks, suddenly looking worried.

“What?” Frank asks.

“You – you just gave me a bit of a funny look,” Gerard says, panic suddenly all over his face. “Oh God, I’m sorry, it was too much too fast wasn’t it?! I just - I swear, I thought –”

Frank seizes the opportunity to sit up and kiss Gerard before Gerard can completely kill the mood. Gerard makes a small squeak of surprise but Frank’s already reaching up and grabbing the front of Gerard’s t-shirt in his fist, holding him in.

Gerard suddenly pulls back again. Frank tries to keep kissing him but Gerard holds him back.

“Sorry, I’ve just gotta check now,” he says quickly. “You are OK with all this, aren’t you?”

Frank nods. “Oh, I am totally down with this,” he says. Unintentionally, it comes out as a bit of a growl. He hopes he doesn’t sound too desperate.

Gerard smiles with relief. “Good,” he says. “Sorry, not to like, completely ruin the mood, but yeah, sometimes it ends up when you think someone’s find with how things are going and then it turns out they really really weren’t and –“

“Can we go back to kissing please?” Frank cuts across. He tries to kiss Gerard again, partly to shut him up, but Gerard dodges back again with that devastating hollow-point smile.

“What did I say about behaving yourself?” he says.

Frank backs down slightly, trying to look meek.

“I’ve been really good,” he says. “I swear, I’ll behave.”

“Good,” Gerard whispers, leaning in and finally kissing Frank. Frank groans as Gerard’s lips massage against his own with just a hint of aggression. Gerard’s supporting all of his own weight on his knees and one arm with the other holding Frank down, but with how they sink into the sofa, their bodies are still pressed together and Frank can’t resist pressing up against Gerard, feeling the warmth from his blood radiating through the layers of their clothes. They kiss like that for a while with Gerard completely taking the lead and Frank following. With the hand that isn’t supporting his weight, Gerard traces his fingers down Frank’s side, coming to rest on Frank’s hipbone as he bites down gently on his lip and then –

And then the front door slams and they both jump so badly that Gerard actually falls off the sofa and lands on the ground with a loud crash.

“Gerard?” Mikey’s voice calls out.

Gerard looks over to Frank with an embarrassed grin and mouths ‘sorry’ before calling out “living room!”

Frank quickly tries to rearrange himself and his clothes to a more appropriate manner, curling his legs up on the sofa to hide all evidence and grabbing his book from where it was lying discarded on the floor as Gerard quickly sits down back next to him; he’s pulled out his sketchbook from wherever it was and is completely engrossed in a sketch. It would have been completely passable if it wasn’t for the fact that his lips are swollen, his usually pale face is flushed, his hair is tangled and sticking up and his sketchbook is being held in a rather specific way over his crotch...

Frank abruptly realises he probably doesn’t look much better either just as Mikey sticks his head around the door.

“Hi Mikey!” Gerard says brightly. “How was rehearsal?”

“Good,” Mikey says, nodding to Frank. “Hey Frank.”

“Hi Mikey,” Frank says as he sees Mikey take in the scene before him and raises one eyebrow.

Frank tries not to laugh. It must be far too obvious what was going on.

“Anyway, I’m going to go,” Mikey says.

“Are you sure? We were just watching TV,” Frank says, not wanting to kick Mikey out of his own living room.

Mikey looks over to the TV (which is switched off) and then back to them.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he says, completely expressionless.

“You going to your room?” Gerard asks. “Don’t forget to –”

“I’ve got some people coming round in a bit,” Mikey says. The corner of his mouth his curling up slightly in a smile. “As a heads up. Didn’t mean to interrupt your... TV watching.”

Frank can’t hold back a giggle as Gerard shoots him a look, clearly also trying not to laugh.

“Oh, by the way, Frank,” Mikey adds, “You’re still coming on Thursday, right?”

“Thursday – oh! That’s your gig, right?”

Mikey and Gerard both nod.

“Good good,” Mikey says. “I put your name on guestlist but I didn’t know your surname so you’re on there as ‘Frank Shirtless-Wet-Guy.’”

He ducks out the room and they hear the sound of a door slam a few seconds later.

“You’d better come with me to the gig,” Frank says, turning to Gerard. “I do not want to see what happens if I try to introduce myself to the bouncer as that by myself.”



Part Five