A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Twenty One - Just Sleep

Frank was tired.

He supposed that was only to be expected - he'd barely moved for the past week, and he and Gerard had just now decided to have rough bathroom sex. Well, apparently that hadn't really been Frank's decision to make, but nonetheless it had happened and now, yes, he was tired.

He knew Gerard was pleased by the fact that he didn't take the damn collar off, and that he kept his head down in a distinctly submissive way, fringe falling into his face. Gerard probably thought he'd taught Frank a lesson or something like that. Frank disagreed. If anything, he thought he'd taught Gerard a lesson. He knew, knew, that Gerard had been surprised at his display of strength and anger, and some of the evidence of his anger was evident on Gerard's neck. His skin was pale enough that the bruises stood out like smudges of charcoal, shockingly dark against the whiteness. Frank counted that as a job well done.

Not that he wasn't marked, either, but not nearly as much as Gerard, ha. Frank kind of wanted to see his back, too, revel in the angry red latticework of lines across it, caused by his own nails, but he doubted Gerard would react too well to him yanking up the back of his shirt in the middle of the airport to admire the wounds there. Yeah, Frank wasn't gonna test his luck with that one.

Still, he almost fell over from exhaustion in the line to the plane, and after they handed over their boarding passes and walked down the jetway, settling in their seats (Frank claimed the window seat this time, and Gerard didn't stop him - the jealous bastard was probably afraid of him talking to another passenger like he had with Greta), Frank was halfway passed out. He'd expected to be somewhat in pain, but instead he just felt pleasantly warm and sleepy, leaning his head against the window and staring at the tarmac and the people on it, swarming around the plane like ants.

He felt Gerard's heat at his back before he actually felt Gerard, and thus wasn't too surprised when Gerard started nosing at his neck, playing with the collar. Frank rolled his eyes and continued to look out the window. The plane started moving backwards, away from the gate and towards the runway, and Gerard was still licking and kissing at the collar and the skin around it. Frank was getting a little annoyed, he was tired, goddammit, and Gerard was probably only doing this to one; persuade Frank to have rough airplane bathroom sex with him, or two; to make sure Frank knew that he was "Gerard's." Neither of which he was very keen on.

"Stop it," he mumbled, face still half smushed up against the glass. The plane was on the runway now, waiting for some smaller jet to get out of its way.

Gerard just hummed and then he fucking bit the collar, tugging at it and forcing Frank away from the glass. Frank hissed and turned his head, glaring at Gerard, and seeing that the aisle seat was, luckily for them, unoccupied this time.

"I said stop it," Frank warned, pushing Gerard away. "Stop licking my neck, you freak. You're not a fucking vampire, so stop acting like one."

Gerard chuckled and just put his face right up against Frank's skin again. Frank sighed in frustration, narrowing his eyes. "But what if I was?" Gerard murmured, nipping lightly at a vein and making Frank shiver despite himself. "What if I was a vampire? Would you let me drink your blo-"

Frank pushed him away again. "I do not know what it is with you and your fucking blood fetish, but I'm just going to let you know right now that you will not be drinking my blood again in the future. Got that?"

Gerard's eyes darkened for a second when he said 'again,' because, of course, he was referring to when Gerard had lost it with the knife a week ago. And Frank was serious, alright, because that shit was not cool. Gerard regarded him for a few long moments, and then said softly, "Okay."

Frank blinked. He hadn't known what he was expecting, but it was not that. "Okay," Frank repeated, and turned back to watch the plane take off. It helped him to focus on the sky instead of the ground and the plane itself, that way his stomach jumped less, and his heart beat a little slower. But his hands still gripped the armrests hard, as much as he tried not to. Frank wasn't scared of planes, per se, but the idea of being locked into a giant metal tube with wings in the sky was not his idea of a good time.

He waited for Gerard to mock him for his reaction like he had last time, but instead a soft hand touched his and turned it over, palm-up, so that their fingers could interlock, Gerard's curling over his knuckles slowly. Frank experimentally squeezed a little, and Gerard squeezed right back. He wasn't looking at him, though - his gold eyes were focused somewhere across the aisle, but Frank took comfort in it anyway.

The plane leveled out, and Gerard took his hand away. Frank didn't comment on it, just said, "I'm gonna close the shade, I want to sleep, okay?" Gerard just nodded, leaning back against the seat and tapping his fingers on his own armrest.

Frank closed his eyes and turned his head away from the other, not even bothering to use one of those tiny airplane pillows which were much, much smaller than any adult human head, seriously. But try as he might, he couldn't fall asleep. He was too on edge still, the tenseness from earlier coming back and making him think too much - about Gerard, about this, about what Gerard had done to get the address of this place they were going to, about what Gerard would have him do in the future. Frank didn't want to think or care about any of that, he just wanted some fucking sleep, was that too much to ask?

"Frank?" Gerard nudged at his jaw with his nose and Frank cracked open an eye warily. "I thought you were awake. You didn't look relaxed enough."

"Okay? And I suppose you're going to propose to do something about that?"

"I wasn't going to propose anything," Gerard replied, and then he dipped his head and started kissing Frank's neck again, feathery, fleeting brushes over his skin, and Frank actually leaned into it a little before pulling back guiltily, eyeing Gerard unsurely.

"What're you doing?"

"Calming you down."

Frank was unconvinced, but he tipped his head to the side, exposing more of his neck, and Gerard smiled against it, nuzzling and nipping and then kissing it better. When he started sucking around the collar, Frank actually twisted up into it, closing his eyes and making a low purring sound when Gerard kept doing it. The other's hand was warm on the other side of his neck, fondling the collar and stroking the bare flesh. His free hand was cupped slightly against Frank's curved hip, and Frank wasn't sure why he liked the feeling, but it was like he was being held, and it was nice.

He leaned his head against the shade, and Gerard kept touching him and kissing his neck, biting a little, but not hard enough to jerk Frank out of his sudden stupor of odd tranquility. This was...this was nice. Gerard wasn't holding his collar anymore, instead petting lightly at Frank's hair. Frank felt a little bad because it was probably incredibly greasy and sweaty, but Gerard seemed to find it satisfactory. Frank felt like his old dog Sweet Pea, who'd fall asleep straightaway if you scratched behind her ears and petted her for long enough. His eyelids were drooping, and his mind was blessedly clear and fuzzy, like Gerard had him under some kind of spell.

Frank wasn't complaining, though. It was a nice spell if it let him sleep. His eyes closed fully, his head slumped against the shade, and he was out within just a few minutes, the rumble of the plane engines white noise in his ears.

xoxoxo

Frank was sitting in a chair, in a dark room. Well, not totally dark. There was a spotlight, and it was focused directly on him, casting a sickly yellow shade to his skin. He was clothed, but his clothes felt damp and heavy, and when he looked down, he saw, to his horror, that they were soaked in blood. The scent of it was sharp and metallic in the air, just like his fear.

Frank tried to get up from the chair, only to find that his wrists were bound by rope behind him, and as much as he struggled, the bonds would not come undone. His brows lowered, turning his head and trying to see behind him, trying to peer through the blankets of shadow around him.

"Hello?" he called into the nothingness, bracing himself for what might step out of it.

His voice echoed until it became nothing, and he was even more perplexed. He felt something hot on his wrists, and when he tugged again, he was struck with a blinding pain in them - they were bleeding, too. But how?

"Frankie," said a voice near his ear. He whipped his head around, eyes wide, but there was nobody there. "Frankie." Again, this time in his other ear, soft, sibilant, and terribly familiar.

"Gerard?" he whispered. "Where are you?"

"Frankie," Gerard murmured, directly above his head, "I'm right here."

"Thank fuck," Frank said, "I really need to get out of this chair, I don't understand what I'm doing here and I think I'm bleeding and-"

"Get out?" Gerard was suddenly in front of him, crossing his arms and frowning. "Why would you want to get out? I put you here, you know."

"Why?" Frank asked.

Gerard tsked at him. "Stop asking questions, dear."

"Why the fuck am I here?!" Frank snapped, eyes fiery. "Get me out of this fucking chair!"

"We're going to have so much fun," Gerard giggled, straddling his lap and ignoring the way he struggled. A long finger traced over his cheekbone and Frank closed his eyes and cringed back. In an instant, the finger was gone, replaced by a knife. Frank opened his eyes immediately, staring at the silver blade. No.

"Gerard, please, stop," Frank said, arching his body and only making Gerard cling to him more tightly, mouth curled up in an amused smirk.

"That's the best you can do? Oh, poor little Frankie. Shame, it really is a shame."

"What is?" Frank asked, eyes wide and blown.

"That I'm going to carve you up with this," Gerard said, shaking his head in fake pity. "All that pretty skin, but you know, it looks so much better when it's torn and red, like this!" He slashed over Frank's neck and blood bubbled out, Frank shouting and feeling the thick trickle down his throat and collarbones. Fuck. Why was Gerard doing this, he knew how Frank had reacted last time. "Oh, silly little Frankie," Gerard sighed, about to cut his chest this time, reopen the scars. Then Frank remembered, and he gasped, making Gerard pause, tilt his head at him. "What is it, Frankie?"

"Doves," Frank breathed, and then repeated it again, louder. "Doves."

Gerard looked momentarily confused, and then he just shook his head and smiled.

Frank panicked. "Gerard? What...that's my safeword. So you have to stop."

"No," Gerard said, grinning crookedly and terrifyingly. "This isn't a game anymore, Frankie. There are no safewords, because you're going to die. You knew too much, you see, and we couldn't have that, could we?"

"No," Frank uttered, shrinking away. His fear was heavy in the air once more. His body was sticky with his own blood. "No! Gerard! Please, stop!" He swallowed. "No."

"Yes," Gerard said, raising the knife, aiming for his heart. "It was always going to end like this, you know."

Frank screamed and there was a pressure over his heart, which he thought was the knife, but then he realized it was somebody's hands. "Shhh," someone was saying above him, and Frank jerked a little and opened his eyes blearily, seeing Gerard's out-of-focus face there, feeling his chest at his back, not the chair. A dream. A nightmare. Fuck. His chest wasn't wet with blood, but with sweat, and there was no knife at his neck or rope around his wrists. Frank took a deep breath, and Gerard leaned down, dragging his lips over Frank's forehead and whispering, "Just sleep."

Frank made a tiny sound and turned his head to the side, burying his face against Gerard's shirt. He hadn't really noticed Gerard's scent before, but it was here now, a sort of musky but sweet smell, like washed cotton sheets that had been slept in a few times, still warm from the sleeping bodies among them. Gerard stroked his hair almost absentmindedly, and Frank's eyes closed again, sending his subconscious into a world of quiet spaces and soft voices.