A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Fourteen - Just Give Me What I Need

Gerard couldn't deny that Frank somehow looked even better with his new haircut.

However, he did have his limits, and he didn't think the security guards would be too happy about him bending Frank over right here and now, in front of the body scanners. Ha, Gerard would love to scan Frank's body.

Frank had just put his small carry-on bag onto the conveyor belt, which contained one or two changes of clothes and two combs, two toothbrushes, a tiny tube of toothpaste, and some paperback book Gerard had grabbed off a shelf in the hotel lobby. They only needed the one bag - Gerard had a place in Newark and the flight was short, only about fifty minutes if Gerard remembered correctly.

The tortuously boring security check was over soon enough - Gerard wasn't stupid enough to carry weapons onto an airplane, so they were in no danger of being caught or accused of anything (except for escaping from prison - oh wait, the prison system thought they were dead). He couldn't help but smile, simply loving the freedom he had once again.

Frank came over with their bag, joining him on the bench where they put their shoes on again. They still hadn't had a chance to change their shoes from the prison, and Gerard was seriously just going to strip as soon as they got to his apartment, because these stupid suits were too conspicuous, and was it a crime to just fucking need jeans and a T-shirt?

Frank's suit was a little less big, because he and Gerard had traded before they left, partly on accident.

"So," said Frank, standing up and peering at their boarding passes, "gate E13. Our flight leaves at nine, so...we have some time before we have to get to the gate."

"That we do," Gerard said, smirking suggestively at him.

"No," Frank said flatly. "Asshole."

"Fine," Gerard sighed, "but you don't know what you're missing out on."

"Bathroom sex? No thank you."

"Aww," Gerard cooed, delighting in the way Frank cringed away from him, "is the little baby afraid of getting a little dirty?"

"You're gross," Frank snapped, turning away and heading towards one of the airport shops.

Gerard shrugged, but his eyes were dangerous, boring holes into Frank's back. He could wait for the puttana piccolo, patience was a virtue, after all. But Frank would have to learn some manners. The wheels turned in his head, and when he at last joined the other in front of a shelf full of weird little unicorn figurines, there was a smile on his face.

It wasn't a very nice smile.

xoxoxo

So, the wait could have been much better, but Frank pointedly picked up the paperback novel and turned away from Gerard. The book looked like some shitty romance, and Gerard spent several minutes examining the cover (a girl dressed in old fashioned clothes holding a large red rose) and narrowing his eyes to make out the dark red name on the bottom (Alisa M. Libby). It was called The King's Rose. He rolled his eyes and settled for looking out the windows at the tarmac instead, wondering about all the people in the planes out there and what their lives were like. He wondered if any of them had anyone as attractive as Frank, and he wondered if any of them had recently escaped from prison.

He wondered if they were a part of a secret organization. Hm.

About half an hour later, Frank said loudly, "Okay, Gerard, I am fucking done with this book. That's just sick."

"What's it about?"

"King Henry VIII and his fucktoy."

Gerard raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"