(A/n)
This part was supposed to be smut (top/dom reader), but I decided to extend the story until then!
Requested by both FrankLerosLipRing and bublegum_sorrows
not proofread
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"...and that's why the importations to the US aren't going to work well." Mikey finishes and Gerard lets out a sharp exhale at the same time I do, half of his face hidden by his hand whilst his elbow rests on the table, but I can barely contain my urge of snapping, limiting myself to rubbing my face instead. Keep yourself calm, (y/n).
"What made the government suddenly get like that?" I raise an eyebrow, slamming my hands against the table. "They're gonna investigate every shipping now? Every millimeter of the containers?"
Mikey shrugs, tilting his head – the sound of the papers being placed back down cut thickly through the meeting room, which's red tones seem deeper and suffocating. "I believe so. At least until their suspicion dies down. Y'know, I think they got Siegel's finger in it."
"Of course they do," I sigh, shaking my head.
"No one else aside from them knew about that shipment," Gerard adds. "The good point, on the other hand, is that we still can get help from Chicago Outfit."
"At least." I nod, pressing my lips together. They better be up to helping us this time, they owe us a favor, after all, and we highly depend on this shipping, but I need confirmation they won't actually betray us now. "Contact them asap, Mikey." I stand up, adjusting my suit. "And let me know about their answer, alright? And Gerard, take a further look into this thing. I need to know who had relation to this so we can be more careful. Let me know about it the moment you get answers." I leave the room without any other word.
Nothing more can be done about this situation now and I can't let it take over and cause another breakdown – it wasn't helpful at all during the last time.
Frank suddenly shows up when I'm on my way to my office, following me quietly. He's about to walk in with me, but I close the door before he's able to do so. Of course Frank's a nice guy, but people work for whoever pays higher and I hope that if some unfortunate event happens, he doesn't have any important information with him.
The room is quiet aside from the sound of the phone's keys being pressed before I'm lifting the handset, the cold metal touching the shell of my ear.
"Hello?" Ray asks from the other side of the line.
"It's me, Ray," I let him know, leaning back against my armchair. "The–" I pause, speaking lower so no one can hear from outside the door. "The last shipment was caught. We need to be careful. I want the following ones clean and the special one will be sent as soon as I say so," I say slowly. "Do you understand?"
"Of course," Ray answers, voice tense. "Are you sure it's–"
"Yeah," I cut him off, nodding with a sigh. "Everything is going to happen nicely, don't worry. Make sure it happens exactly as I told you, alright? Next shipments are completely free until the second order!"
"Okay, sir. Noted. I'll keep you updated."
"Thank you."
The handset hits the cradle with a soft dinging sound that's quickly swallowed by the silence. Well, then. Let's hope everything just happens perfectly this time.
Frank is standing outside the door when I walk out, leaning back against the wall with his hands behind him. He observes me with wide eyes; not a sign of nervousness, nothing out of usual.
"Hi, baby." I smile lightly. "Something wrong?"
He shakes his head. "I just have nothing to do."
"Why don't you come with me to the kitchen?" I wrap an arm around Frank's shoulders, starting my way down the hall. "We can eat something, hm? Drink some coffee."
"Sounds good," he replies quietly, shoulders eventually relaxing under my touch.
Living in a mansion wasn't exactly much of a random choice as much of a convenient one regarding how many people I need to keep in the same place and how much space I need, for all the meeting rooms, offices, vaults and bedrooms for the men who need to sleep over.
"Good afternoon!"
The kitchen, not surprisingly, is filled by an incessant chatter that quietens down for a moment so a chorus of greetings can follow mine. People hang around in their suits, eating or just talking, though most of them do have a cup of coffee and a piece of bread in hand, leaning against the walls or hanging over the counters.
Frank follows me to take a seat beside me at the table – I serve us coffee and grab a slice of pie for each – and quietly thanks me once starting to eat.
"(Y/n), sir," Jeph says suddenly, a grin on his lips; he crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the table. "It's been a while, hm?"
"I know." I nod. "I sent you to the south personally."
Jeph hums, raising his eyebrows lightly. "And you're looking better than you did when I left. What've you been up to? Working out a lot? I got to know the business has expanded. Doing a good job as always, hm?"
"Stop licking my feet, Jeph," I sigh, shaking my head. "You know you're not going anywhere with it."
"Licking your feet?" He raises his eyebrows, twisting his mouth lightly. "I'm but telling the truth." He winks and I don't hold myself back from showing how done I am with all of them.
I'm about to say something when I feel a light tugging on my blazer, so I push myself back lightly with the chair to open up more space. Frank sits down on my lap happily, leaning against me as he continues to eat his pie peacefully – I can't help but to smile, looking from Frank to Jeph, who easily takes the hint, face dropping before he's walking away.
"My boy," I tell Frank quietly and press a kiss to his cheek, which quickly turns red, though he nods rather proudly.
We eat silently, mostly paying attention to the other's talk or to each other; Quinn was frantically telling the others about one of his last missions, but we never got to hear the end of it as I averted my attention to cleaning the scrumbles of pie away from the corner of Frank's mouth and eventually started feeding him. Sometimes he doesn't even look like the same person who arrived here. Not that he's changed or some trauma did the work. He's just acting differently towards me, genuinely accepting my care without fear lacing his actions.
"C'mon, stand up." I place my empty cup aside and tap Frank's thigh lightly. "Want to come along with me? I'm just going to fill out some papers, but you're welcome."
"Of course!" Frank nods almost immediately as he stands up and pats the crumbles away from his clothes.
Some of the people notice me leaving, so I wave lightly in response to the chorus of 'bye' I receive, being followed closely by Frank. I take my hand in his again when we start going upstairs, only letting go once we're in my office.
"You can mess with whatever isn't on my desk," I let him know, on my way over to my armchair.
Frank nods in response, darting around until eventually finding the record player sitting on top of the buffet table across the room. He looks at me questioningly despite my words and proceeds to go through the records after I nod and, eventually, music starts to fill the room. I glance up from my papers to see Frank dancing around.
"What?" he asks immediately, cheeks red.
"You're just lovely, hun." I smile, avoiding looking up again so I won't make him embarrassed – he hums in response and slowly starts dancing again.
The work is so immersing that I come back to reality to another song, fairly different from the first one. "Frank, baby," I mutter, going through the papers. "Can you do me a favor? Hand these to Gerard." I hand him a couple of papers. "And ask for the rest, please?"
"Sure!" He smiles with a nod, quickly leaving the room.
Frank's too cute, to be honest. It can be difficult believing he murdered people at some point, but things become clear as soon as you understand the case properly. On the opposite of what the police believe, Frank didn't kill three people just because he felt like it but because of being under pressure, probably not even being aware of his actions while he performed them. He deserves better, truly. I want to set him free, of course, but I can't help. He's mine and only mine now.
Five minutes pass, ten, and then I'm wondering what's taking Frank so long. He doesn't tend to be like that, honestly.
"Damn," I breathe, organizing the papers and leaving a pen over them so they won't fly in my absence before I can leave the room, furrowing my eyebrows as I look both sides of the hall and start walking towards Gerard's office.
On the way there, however, I start listening to quiet cursing along annoyed complaints which aren't very clear at first, though I can slowly start to make out the words when turning down another hall and, by the corner, there's Black, cornering someone against the wall.
This cursing is way too familiar.
"Andy, what the fuck are you even doing?" I walk down the hall with a sharp exhale and pull him aside – Frank looks at me like God descended from heaven right before him. "Away from him, okay? Flirt with someone else. You're getting fucking stabbed next time you approach my boy like that."
"Your boy?" Black raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah." I run a hand through Frank's hair and move to adjust his suit. "But you shouldn't act like this towards anyone, to be honest. Careful."
Black observes me quietly as I start to walk away with Frank, holding him close to me. "...Sure, sir," he replies, voice quiet and without any truth in it. Not the first one to act like that, tho.
We're back inside my office and the song that's playing is actually soothing now, thankfully.
"Sorry about that, love." I pull the papers away from Frank's hands to put them aside and pull him close with my arms around his waist. "Some of them are really terrible." I run a hand up and down his back, feeling Frank slowly melt against me.
"It's okay," Frank mutters. "You aren't."
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