Playing with power //// Frerard

When there's no room in hell...

"Good morning Frankie."

"Morning..." Frank gazed at Gerard with large, somewhat suspicious eyes as the older man strolled into the room carrying the usual silver tray laden with breakfast foods for Frank to choose from. It had been this way for the past week, Frank staying in Gerard's bed whilst his 'master' took one of the spare rooms and Frank's room was stripped out and redecorated. Frank was utterly bewildered by this, so confused as to why Gerard would give up his room when Frank had been so bad as to trash his own room. But though he kept expecting this hospitality to turn into a cruel joke, so far Gerard had been nothing short of perfect.

"The doctor is coming over in an hour or so to check your hands, so once you've eaten I can help you dress if you like." Gerard offered, his tone light and happy.

"I... I guess." Frank agreed vaguely, sitting up and allowing the covers to slip down to his hips, Gerard placing the tray on his knees. "Thank you." Frank said quietly, gazing at the delicious food the chef had prepared and sighing as his stomach grumbled.

"Your bedroom is getting refurnished today too, you should be able to have it back within the next day or so." Gerard added brightly, watching as Frank carefully lifted up his cutlery with the little bits of his fingers poking out from the bandages. Since it was only his knuckles that were broken he was allowed some limited movement in his fingers... but it was very limited.

"Oh," Frank forced a quick smile and speared some scrambled eggs onto his fork. "You must be relieved to get your room back then." He giggled, smiling shyly at the man who was taking such good care of him. He was healing well what with all the rest he was getting. Not to mention all the delicious meals he was getting morning, noon and night. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten so consistently.

"Well of course." Gerard agreed, sitting on the edge of the bed and angling his body to face Frank as he smiled. "But I have to say, you do make my bed look much more tempting than it usually does." He chuckled, Frank blushing deeply at his words though he surprised Gerard by smirking slightly.

Though Frank hadn't said he forgave Gerard yet, he supposed the older man probably knew he did. And Frank supposed he couldn't really be blamed for it, not when Gerard had been taking such good care of him. The man came into his room every day and sat with him, keeping him company and talking brightly about all kinds of things. The conversation never went too deep, Frank still knew nothing about what Gerard did exactly in his job, and he still knew only the vaguest details of Frank's life, but they never ran out of things to talk about it.

The marks on Frank's back from Mikey's whipping had healed completely, and his backside was well on the way to being completely healed too. He was glad to have not seen Mikey at all whilst he rested in Gerard's room, but he had heard the brothers arguing most nights.

Frank knew that Gerard had no idea he heard the quarrels, and he would never let on that he did. They shocked him to no end... to hear Mikey yelling at Gerard that he needed to 'toughen up', to teach Frank 'a lesson', to beat him until he realised 'who was boss once and for all'. And what seemed to be Mikey's favourite line...

'He's your pet, not your boyfriend!'

Every time Mikey said it Gerard would fight back, insisting he was going to break Frank in his own way, that he didn't want to just frighten him into doing his bidding, that he wanted him to want to serve him.

This to Frank was simply absurd. How anyone could be delusional enough to think he would ever want to be a pet was just beyond him. At first he had been irritated that Gerard could ever be so ridiculous... but then as he heard the argument again and again he began to soften a little... Gerard was an idiot, true. But Frank supposed... in a strange, backwards kind of way... his heart was in the right place.