A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Nineteen - I Drink Juice When I'm Killing

Frank was actually asleep when Gerard came back, though as soon as the door made its distinctive squeal, he bolted upright, narrowing his eyes at the bedroom door. It opened slowly, and Frank's heartbeat slowed in relief when it was just Gerard, scraping a hand through his ruffled hair wearily. There was something on his arm.

"You're bleeding," Frank informed him, sitting up more completely. The soreness in his body was pretty much gone, and though the bandages were still on, he no longer saw splotches of blood on the white, so they were probably well onto their way to healing. Thank fucking god.

"Not my blood," Gerard said dismissively, taking something from his coat. Frank swallowed when he saw it was a knife, or, well, that knife. His eyes flicked down and away from it, and that was when he spotted the sliver of white sticking out from Gerard's pocket. He furrowed his brow and lunged forward, taking Gerard by surprise as he snatched the paper. "Frank," Gerard said in a long suffering kind of way, holding out a hand. "Give that back."

"5023 West Magnolia Drive? What's that mean?"

"Nothing."

"Well, it obviously means someth-"

"Frank! What do you not understand about 'this doesn't concern you?'"

Frank pouted. "But I-"

"No!"

"Why not, I just-"

"You just can't shut up, can you?!"

"Apparently not," Frank said huffily, crossing his arms and only wincing a little at the pull in his chest muscles. "Why can't you just tell me?"

"It's an address."

Frank glared at him.

"Fine. It's an address in California, and it's where my little brother Mikey is. The government is holding him under house arrest."

"Because they believe he knows something about-"

"Yes. Which he doesn't. So we're going to get him out of there."

"We?" Frank couldn't hide the excitement in his voice.

"Yes," Gerard said through gritted teeth. "Don't make me regret that."

"Oh, I probably will," Frank replied cheerfully, settling back against the pillows again. Then he frowned. "But you didn't know that address before...." Gerard was muttering something about how it was a good thing the government's persuasive tactics weren't like theirs, and then it clicked. "Did you just...'persuade' somebody to give you that?"

"Oh, yes," Gerard said mildly, "though he's dead now."

"What was his na-"

"You know what, Frank?" Gerard interrupted yet again, stalking over to the bed and peering down at him, "I'm going to take you out."

"Out?"

"On a date," Gerard added.

"Really?"

"Yes. But," Gerard said, narrowing his eyes, "there are conditions. One," he held up a long finger, "no talking about what happened this afternoon, what I'm a part of, or this address and Mikey. Two," he held up a second finger, "don't be a wise-ass. Three," his ring finger joined the other two, "no sex, you need to heal if we're going to California."

Frank opened his mouth to protest, but Gerard snapped his fingers and he closed his mouth reluctantly. "Fine," he said grumpily.

Gerard smiled. "Excellent."

xoxoxo

"Sushi?" Frank said, giggling.

"Shut up," Gerard shot back, "it's delicious. And classy."