A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Fifteen - Gallons Of The Stuff

Frank was very shaken.

He was shaken the whole drive to Gerard's neighborhood, and he was still shaken when they got out a few blocks away (for safety reasons) and walked to a small apartment building which looked somewhat abandoned. He shivered every time Gerard brushed against him, and when Gerard unlocked the door to 27B, ushering Frank inside.

Frank had had a very disturbing dream on that plane. He couldn't even recall most of it, didn't want to, only that there had been a lot of blood - his blood - and Gerard, doing nothing to help, but more than that, making Frank bleed more. The scarlet that had been so everpresent in the dream was still bright and lurid behind his eyelids, and he had a sick, metallic taste in his mouth.

Gerard was dangerous.

He'd known that before, but now...now it was like his instincts were kicking in, telling him that sticking with Gerard was just a very bad idea. Gerard had all but kidnapped him, hadn't he? Kidnapped him to be used as a fucktoy. Frank did not like that, not at all, and he'd decided that he was going to do something about it. He'd probably have more luck here, where Gerard was more comfortable and at ease, not expecting to be hurt in his own home.

But part of Frank still felt guilty about it. He tried to convince himself that Gerard would never feel guilty about doing something like this to Frank - fuck, he was probably already planning to. But Frank...Frank couldn't help but foolishly hope that beneath that cold, hard exterior, there was another side to Gerard, a tiny shred of kindness. He believed he'd seen it before - after the haircuts debacle, when Gerard had allowed them to kiss without an ulterior motive near the end, and the first time Gerard had sex with him in the prison, when he just held him quietly afterwards.

But, Frank thought firmly, he had given Gerard plenty of opportunities to show that other side, and when it came down to it all, he was just a murderous asshole. He would toss Frank aside and put a bullet through his head when all of this ended, casual as anything. Frank knew it.

So it was with watchful eyes that he noted where Gerard stored his weapons here, a small shelf in the closet where they were covered discreetly with a black shirt, but Frank saw the glint of metal, and he didn't have to wonder any more.

Gerard gave him some clothes, mockingly telling him they probably wouldn't fit since Frank was such a tiny slut. That really made something ignite in Frank, because as much as Gerard pushed him around, he was always going to want to rebel. It was just part of him. If fucking Gerard Way wanted him to play the sweet, submissive character, then he was out of luck, because Frank would not, would never. He'd die before he became Gerard's plaything like that, collared and handcuffed and whipped and who knows what else. Even if Gerard did all those things to him, he'd fight all the way through it.

Gerard went out to pick up food somewhere, and Frank, after he was positive that the door was locked, scrambled over to the closet, picking out the knife he'd seen earlier. It would be all to easy to slip the sharp stiletto between Gerard's ribs, and he would be dead without a sound. A gun would be too loud, but this...this was just perfect. Frank was used to operating with knives, anyway. They were his...weapon of choice.

He hid the knife somewhere safe, and he waited, pacing and finally picking up a comic from the floor. He wouldn't have thought Gerard had good taste in comics at all, but...it was Doom Patrol, there was nothing more to it, and Frank wasn't complaining. He became so engrossed, he almost didn't hear Gerard's rap at the door.

He contemplated not letting him in, but Gerard would probably just punish him anyway, so he sighed and got up, opening the door and raising his eyebrow at the sight of Gerard bundled up in scarves with a bag full of Chinese take-out in his arms.