ONE: Vanilla on My Hands

49: A Lot Less Business-like and a Lot More Douchebag

Frank stood against the wall in his Master's office, looking down at the clipboard in his arms. He glanced at the still-red marks on his wrists from Monday's punishment and he swallowed nervously, remembering his pain. He was still riding on a cold from the day before as well as the exhaustion from yesterday's training. Frank glanced up at his boss for a second, blushing as he caught sight of Gerard looking back at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his lips.

"Can I help you with something, boy?" Gerard asked idly as he went back to typing on his laptop. Frank smiled coyly in response as he looked at the clipboard again.

"No, sir. Just looking."

It was just then when there was a knock on Gerard's door before it opened and tangerine-haired Hayley poked her head in, her bright locks in a messy updo, her face flustered. Gerard looked up with a raised eyebrow, "Yes, Hayley?"

"Y-Your brother is here." She whispered and looked down at her datebook, "He didn't schedule anything."

Gerard sighed frustratedly, "He never does."

"So, what do I do, sir?" Hayley asked timidly, swallowing as she looked at Gerard with wide eyes.

"Send him in, it's fine." Gerard waved a hand at the poor receptionist who then ran off to the front desk. Frank felt his heart beating in his chest as he pressed himself against the wall, clutching his clipboard of Gerard's notes against his chest, realizing how tightly he was squeezing the plywood with his fingers to the point that it hurt, "Relax, boy."

"Yes, sir," Frank whispered softly, looking down at the realization that he was about to meet his Dominant's brother. Frank swallowed against the dry lump in his throat and looked at his scuffed shoes. Frank looked down at the clipboard and at the dog-eared pages of Gerard's speech that he had been busy with that morning, sucking in a shaky breath as he withheld the urge to vomit. He heard the light, but urgent, slap of shoes on the wooden floor growing louder and he pressed himself against the wall, wishing he could become miraculously invisible.

The door opened and Frank looked even further down, staring at a fiber in the carpet as caramel suede boots came into view and the ankles of black skinny jeans hit his periphery. Frank raised an eyebrow as he glanced up, his eyes widening as he took in Gerard's younger brother. He wasn't at all what Frank was expecting in the slightest. Mikey was dressed in his caramel suede boots and his black skinny jeans and if that color combo wasn't enough to spark Frank's intrigue, it would have definitely been that faux fur coat that Mikey was donning, the color matching the shoes all the way down to his mid-thigh. Beneath the coat was what looked like a grey long-sleeve t-shirt hoodie. He had on a pair of reflective brown aviator sunglasses, the sun glinting off both the frame and the thin nose ring that sat snug in his right nostril. Frank took in the tall and skinny man standing expectantly in the office with them, his pompous manner akin to Gerard's but a lot less business-like and a lot more douchebag. Including the oddly fluffy middle-mohawk that was cut into his mousy hair.

"Dear brother." Gerard sighed, standing up slowly, hands still on the desk as he leaned over, eyeing Mikey.

"Gerard." Mikey gave his older sibling a fake smile as he sauntered in and closed the door, sliding gracefully into one of the chairs that sat across from Gerard.

"To what, or whom, do I owe this courteous pleasure?" Gerard asked as he leaned back in his own leather chair.

"We had an appointment for lunch today." Mikey quirked an eyebrow, "Did your receptionist not mention?"

"It wasn't in the book," Gerard then turned and looked at Frank pointedly, "Did he phone you?"

"N-No, sir." Frank choked out, "Not in your diary either."