A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Thirty - It Makes Me Who I Am

Gerard really wished that for Frank's sake, his mood wasn't be so liable to changing in a flash.

Last night, he'd been exhausted but content, almost....happy, yes. But this morning, he'd started it with a foul temper and it was only getting worse from there on out. He woke up panicked when Frank hadn't been in the bed with him, and when Frank came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips, Gerard had yelled at him for really no apparent reason. Frank had yelled back, which just made Gerard angrier, and then Frank stormed out of the hotel room, muttering something about preferring to spend time with the 'goddamn strippers downstairs.' Which obviously did not improve Gerard's mood.

Then the fucking hotel was out of coffee, and Frank was still pissed at him, so Gerard made the wisest, calmest decision he could at that point - look for a Starbucks nearby, get a nice black coffee, sit down, and drink.

So now he and Frank were walking down the street, Gerard looking furtively for any place selling coffee and Frank staring dejectedly at the gray, cloudy sky. "It looks like rain," Frank commented needlessly, and Gerard snorted.

"No, really?" he said sarcastically, rounding the corner and sighing with relief when he saw the familiar green and white emblem of one of his favorite places in the world. Frank was muttering again, and Gerard walked faster, fists clenching and relaxing as he walked through the coffee shop's doors. The smell was like fucking drugs or something - it made him feel lighter and happier immediately. The line wasn't too long either, and Gerard eagerly took his place behind some blonde middle-aged woman.

Frank came in less enthusiastically, hands shoved into his pockets. He kept shooting furtive glares at Gerard from where he had plopped down on one of the couches in the corner. Gerard rolled his eyes and stepped forward to place his order. He didn't bother getting Frank one. The little bitch didn't deserve it.

It wasn't long before the name he'd given them - Adrian - was called, and he paid for the coffee as well as for a poppy-seed muffin. He hadn't had breakfast, and his stomach was protesting. Frank glared at him even more when it became clear that Gerard hadn't gotten him anything, but still followed him out and back onto the city streets.

They were fairly far from the hotel, so when it started to pour, Gerard didn't even think before ducking into a semi-sheltered ally to wait the storm out. Frank reluctantly joined him, black fringe falling into his face. The roof of the building next door created a dry place for them to stay under until the rain stopped. Desert rainstorms like this one were often fleeting but torrential, so it probably wouldn't last very long. Besides, Gerard was warm in his leather jacket and coffee in hand.

Frank was shivering, though - he just had a white v-neck and jeans on, and goosebumps were breaking out over his arms. Gerard briefly considered taking off his jacket and putting it around Frank's shivering shoulders, but quickly dismissed the thought. Instead, he took a scalding sip of his coffee, humming a little in satisfaction at the incredible taste.

"S-sir?"

Gerard started, almost dropping his precious coffee and staring incredulously at the source of the voice. It was on his other side, away from Frank - a teenage boy with greasy, dark hair and wide, desperate eyes. His skin looked pallid and there were bruises on his neck; tatters and rips in his clothes. Gerard curled his lip. Homeless? Probably. He resolutely ignored the teen, tightening his grip on the coffee cup. Frank appeared not to have heard or seen the boy.

"Sir, please? A little money for a helpless-"

This time, Frank definitely heard the boy, and Gerard could feel his eyes on the hapless teenager. Gerard narrowed his eyes at the other, who cringed back. "No. Get lost, kid."

"P-please? I'm so cold and-"

"Did you not hear me the first time? Get the hell away from me, street rat!" Gerard moved his free hand in a shooing motion, but the kid stayed stubbornly put, his blue eyes desperate.

"Please! Just a dollar?"

"Fuck," Gerard said under his breath, because seriously, the teen was just asking for it. He took out the switchblade often under his belt and flicked his wrist, the blade extending. The homeless boy's eyes widened hugely and he took a faltering step back, shaking all over. "You little fucker," he growled, "I told you to leave me alone!" He raised the knife, ready to strike, and then a hand was catching his wrist from behind. The person's grip was shockingly strong.

Gerard turned slowly, only to see Frank there, his face....furious. Frank was angry, but it wasn't the amusing kind of frustration Gerard had seen before - Frank was actually enraged.

"No," Frank said in a quiet, measured tone, lowering Gerard's wrist and the knife away from the kid.

Gerard was too shocked to protest.

Frank stepped forward, towards the trembling teen, and put both hands on his shoulders. The kid squeezed his eyes shut, but Frank just hugged him. Gerard's mouth fell open. What. What the hell? Frank let the kid go almost immediately, but even still the boy's face was the perfect picture of bewilderment and surprise.

"Get away from here," Frank said softly, patting the other's shoulder again, looking almost sympathetic. "There are too many guys like him in this city. I'm sorry."

The kid stumbled backward, nodding rapidly and staring at Frank, before turning on his heel and dashing away and down the dark alleyway. It was only then that Gerard found his voice.

"What the fuck, Frank?" he snapped, glaring at the other. "That was completely out of line."

"No, you know what?" Frank snarled, "Fuck you. Fuck you and your twisted definition of a relationship. Fuck you and your lack of emotions. Fuck you and your fucking pastime of hurting everyone around you! I'm fucking done. Your sick society can find me and fuck me with glass for all I care, but I'm done with you." And then he walked away, breaking into a run when he got to the street and pushing through the crowd.

Gerard's initial thought was, Fine. Let him go, but as Frank disappeared among the people, going the opposite direction of the hotel, panic ignited in his gut. What was he doing? This wasn't some random guy he picked up at a bar. This was Frank, Frank Iero, and he really was the best (and worst) thing that had happened to Gerard in a long time. Plus, if Frank got caught by the Knights, they'd know that Gerard had purposely gone against Leto's orders, and things wouldn't go well for either of them.

Gerard sprinted after the other, coffee still clutched in his hand, switchblade forgotten in the alley.

"Frank!" he cried, struggling to push through the crowds. "Wait!" He thought he saw a flash of black hair rounding a corner, and dashed towards it, keeping what was now unmistakeably Frank's head in his sights. The other man ducked into a bar and Gerard furrowed his brow, running towards it - but instead of going inside, he went around the the back entrance.

Sure enough, a second later the door swung open and Frank crashed into him, sweaty and pale and still incensed. "Get out of my way," Frank gasped, eyes overly bright and mouth twisted into a grim line.

"No," said Gerard firmly. "What's gotten into you?"

"Me?! What's gotten into me?! I think I should be asking you that question - you almost fucking stabbed an innocent kid!"

Gerard's mind twisted with coils of confusion and doubt, but he still managed to say slowly, "He was just a dirty homeless boy. Nobody would've missed him."

Frank's face reddened with something like shame, but also with that same rage from before. It made his beautiful features form a terrifying mask which Gerard didn't like at all. "Fuck you," Frank whispered, his voice breaking and trembling. "You're no different than them." He shoved his way past Gerard and broke into a run again, but Gerard grabbed his arm easily, hauling him back towards the other.

"Frank," he said in a tone which could almost be called pleading if that weren't so ridiculous, "like who?"

"It doesn't fucking matter," Frank snapped, trying to tug his arm away, and now there were definitely tears shining in his eyes. "Get the fuck away from me!"

"Calm down! Can you just tell me why-"

"Why I cared about that kid?! Seriously, Gerard, you don't...." Frank broke off, defiant yet defeated. "I used to be just like him. A 'dirty homeless boy' who 'nobody would've missed.'" This time he did manage to break free, backing away and shaking his head. "I actually...I actually thought you...." Frank spit on the ground, brows furrowed bitterly. "You never cared. You're just like all the other ones, and now you'll never see me as anything more than that dirty homeless boy." Frank's eyes were dark and unfriendly. "Worthless," he muttered, "ugly. Pitiful. Stupid. Mocked. Dirty. Weak. Less than you." The last words were said almost painfully. "That's all I'll ever be to you...to anyone. And I'm done."

Frank walked away through the puddles and the still pouring rain, his head drooping and his hair a wet curtain around his face. Gerard at first made no move to stop him - he was still processing what he'd just been told. Frank had been just like that kid, before he went to prison, before all of this happened. Part of him wanted to be angry that Frank had never told him, but the other, more prevalent part insisted that Gerard hadn't shared anything about his past, so why should Frank? And now he had, and now he thought that Gerard hated him, objectified him, didn't care...and that was wrong.

Gerard was breaking into a run through the collecting water on the ground, and then he was standing in front of Frank, clutching the other's soaked face in his hands; tipping it up to look at him. Gerard knew he should apologize, but he didn't know how, so instead he set his lips atop Frank's and kissed him, fingers curling through his wet hair. He knew how to do that; he knew how to do that very well.

The rain was cold, but their mouths together were searingly hot in contrast, the water making their lips slippery. Frank's jaw was cool and wet against Gerard's warm hands cradling it. His other hand was stroking over Frank's hair, strangely possessive and yet unmistakably tender.

Frank made a surprised noise, and though at first he squirmed weakly in protest, Gerard's pliant lips and soft hands made him relax into it after a while. When Gerard broke the kiss, he put his arms around the other and his face buried against Frank's hair, and it was only then when he realized they were both shivering. He pulled away, the hand that had been on Frank's lower back slipping under the drenched shirt and flattening across the smooth, flawless skin beneath the fabric.

Frank wouldn't look at him. Gerard didn't mind. He kissed Frank's forehead and whispered, "You're not ugly or worthless....you're not any of those things. And you're not less than me." He took a deep breath; he could do this. "I'm sorry." He paused. "And...and I do care."

Frank looked at him then; their eyes connected. He swallowed, cautiously wrapping his arms around Gerard. "Y-you promise?"

"Promise," Gerard breathed.

"Okay," said Frank quietly. "Okay." Then he crumpled, resting his head on Gerard's chest, just below the hollow of his throat. Standing like this felt right, like matching puzzle pieces.

You're beautiful, Gerard wanted to tell him, but the words wouldn't come. He couldn't let them come. That side of him was locked up for good, he tried to tell himself, but he couldn't help but think that maybe Frank was picking away at that lock rather successfully. Instead he murmured, "Let me take you home."

Frank nodded against his collarbones, his face damp with tears and rain alike.

xoxoxo

Gerard glanced at the bed where Frank was sleeping, stripped of his wet clothes and wrapped in the clean white sheets. He let his eyes linger over the decadent sweep of neck and ink which was revealed, leading up to the angelic face, and then he forced himself to look away.

He sighed and pulled on some new clothes, trying not to think about what had occurred previously. He hadn't wanted a complicated relationship when he dragged Frank out of the jail. He'd just wanted some respite from the mess that was his life. And he'd ended up making it even messier with the addition of Frank to it.

Sex was supposed to be rough and harsh. That was the only way Gerard had ever known it, until tonight. Relationships were supposed to be all about one person having power in Gerard's experience, and it sure as hell was going to be him with the power this time. But at the same time, Frank didn't seem to see it that way...he wanted it to be all about equality, but Gerard wasn't quite willing to relinquish his position now. He knew his reasoning was deluded, but he wantedcontrol - complete and utter control - over Frank. He wanted to mark him up and ruin him, yet at the same time he wanted to hold him and never let go.

He wanted to keep Frank where nobody could see him forever and ever, his own perfect tattooed angel, and yet he also wanted to parade him around and show everybody that Frank was his. He wanted to be the alpha to Frank's omega, wanted Frank to know that. He wanted to see Frank's blood, taste his blood and paint it over his body, he wanted to rub his scent all over Frank, he wanted to look at Frank and not just think but know, "Mine."

But he really just wanted to curl around Frank's slumbering body and kiss the back of his neck, care for him like Frank had never been cared for before, so that's what he did.