A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Seven - A Pretty Face, But You Do So Carry On

"It's midsummer night," Frank said that night into the dark hush of the prison cell. He knew that Gerard was still awake, perhaps from the tangible energy in the air which he couldn't quite explain, or the overpowering scent of lavender and something cold when the other came close. It was somehow more vibrant when he was awake, it seemed.

Sure enough, the bunk above him shifted slightly. "Is it, now? I never would have thought you to be a Shakespeare lover, Frank."

"What?"

Gerard sighed. "A Midsummer Night's Dream? Come now, don't tell me you've never heard of it."

"Uh...is that a movie?"

Gerard's face peeped down at his from the open side of his bunk, upside down and comically outraged. "Are you for real?!"

Frank was seriously confused as to how to react to this guy. Like...if bipolar people were confusing, then Gerard was impossible.

"You are, oh god." Gerard's face disappeared and Frank stilled when he heard the patter of feet on the ladder, and then felt a weight on his bed. When he blinked into the darkness, Gerard's pale figure was perched on the end of his bunk, head tipped to the side. It was a bit creepy, really.

"...I'm sorry?" Frank offered.

Gerard glared at him. "It's a good thing I didn't sleep with you, since everybody I fuck better damn well know who Shakespeare is. Is it a movie, oh my lord."

Frank tilted his head right back at him. "Well, if it isn't a movie, then what is it?"

Gerard straightened up and said in a low, yet rich voice, "Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour, draws on apace; four happy days bring in...."

xoxoxo

Frank wasn't sure how it had happened, but he woke up groggily a few hours later, lying down and curled next to Gerard, who was staring at the bottom of the top bunk thoughtfully, his eyes bright.

He started and scrambled to sit up, cheeks flushing at their positioning. There was something terribly...weird, terribly personal and intimate about it, and he hadn't had sex with Gerard, he didn't even like Gerard, he didn't even....oh, he just didn't fucking know.

Gerard glanced down at him as he slowly sank back down onto the mattress, next to the other. The aforementioned other's eyes were a shadowy, antique shade of gold in the dark, a faintly glowing copper such as on the roof of a cathedral at sunset.

"I apologize if my story sent you to sleep," Gerard said mildly, his lips curling in an apologetic yet mocking frown.

Frank blinked and opened his mouth. "I...oh, the story. Yes. Um, no, the story was....uh...delightful."

"Mm," Gerard said in a tone that could be taken as amusement, agreement, objection, and everything in between.

"I, uh...how did it end? I only remember the part where the fairy lady fell in love with the guy who had an ass's head."

"Titania, not 'fairy lady,'" Gerard corrected. "And the story ended that Oberon got his little Indian fuck buddy, the love potion was spread on Lysander's eyelids, everybody falls in love with who they want to, they're all married, they have sex in their castle, the fairies bless them after, and then Puck says to the audience that it was all a dream and when they wake up the couples will think they took shrooms or something of that nature."

"Oh. Um...that's...interesting. I thought Shakespeare only wrote fucking depressing stuff, like Romeo and Juliet or...what's that other one called....Hammie?"

"Hamlet," Gerard said, rolling his eyes. "And no, he didn't just write tragedies."

"Oh, well. I guess that's good then. He's got a love for, well, love, though."

"Yes. It makes people fuck shit up, that's why. Makes it interesting."

"I suppose," Frank said, uncomfortable.

"You do?"

"Yeah?" Frank's breathing hitched. Gerard's face had suddenly gotten very close.

"What would you do," Gerard said calmly, "if I were to kiss you right now?"

Frank's eyes widened. "Um. I...don't know?"

Gerard chuckled and the trickles of air that created sent tingles down Frank's spine. "I think you do, though."

"What would you do?"

"Probably bite you again. But you haven't answered the question."

Frank's slight arousal quickly turned to annoyance. "Get the fuck off my bunk," he snapped, pushing Gerard away with a rough shove. He wasn't interested in Gerard! The bastard better realize that once he'd rejected him, he wasn't getting a second chance.

Though, for all the good that did, he might have been pushing on a tree.

Gerard's eyes darkened. "Now, now, Frankie," he crooned, "don't use that tone with me."

"Or what?" Frank snapped, knowing he wasn't in a position to be talking back right now.

"Or this," Gerard said, and he lunged forward again, just like that first night, and caught Frank's bottom lip between his own.

Surprised (though he really shouldn't have been), Frank twisted, but Gerard's arms were like iron bands around him. He growled deep in his throat, thrashing and making the bed creak and wobble a little. Gerard just kissed him harder, pulling violently on his hair when Frank made the bed rock again. He keened at that, gasping as Gerard shoved his tongue in, forcing Frank to suck on it as he moved up to pin him against the wall.

"I said get. The. Fuck. Off," Frank panted, pushing him away again, this time successfully. "Right now!"

Gerard's lips made a slurping sound when he pulled away. Their ugly orange uniforms were rumpled and so was their hair, Gerard's most of all. Frank's skull stung and his head spun and he heart was pounding. Because what the absolute fuck was that?

"You'll learn," Gerard said as he straightened up and made his way to his bunk, smirking. "Oh, you'll learn."

Frank was, and not for the first time, convinced that his new inmate was insane.