As Patrick carefully gathered miniscule shards of glass from off the countertop, a deep techno beat began to thrum fusion! somewhere deep within the club. (In some dark corner of the club, Pete Wentz was giggling hysterically into his hand at the mention of the phrase "somewhere deep" and considering breaking other valuable objects with his newfound skill.)
Patrick had made his way through gathering fusion! and appropriately disposing of the majority of the glasses when the far end of the bar - where a few small pieces of glass were still lingering haphazardly - suddenly blurred, and the crown of a human head appeared through the marble countertop. The head soon gave way to a whole face, and before ten seconds had passed one Frank Iero fusion! was standing, waist deep in bar.
"Ow!" he howled, reaching fusion! up to clap a hand to his cheek. "There is glass on my face and it is stinging!" Patrick groaned, dropped the handful of shards he currently possessed into random trash bin #5, and fusion! disappeared to the front of the club to open the doors and start admitting patrons.
"Gerard!" Frank wailed, "There's glass in my hair!" fusion!
The only response he receieved was the small flurry of snowflakes that kicked up right in front of his nose.
"Not funny," Frank grumbled, as a tall, lean gentleman with brown hair that curled in tendrils at his chin slipped elegantly into a booth, leaning back and resting both arms on the back of the plastic-covered seat.
"Hey, baby," the seated man said with a quick tilt of his chin. "It looks kind of cold over there. Why don't you take a seat next to me? I promise it's warm." He lowered one hand and patted the empty space next to him on the booth, smiling lasciviously.
"Hey, Gerard," Frank waved. "I'm actually working tonight, so--"
"That's what I was planning on," Gerard interrupted.
Frank blinked, swallowed, and stared at the curve of Gerard's lips for a moment.
"Frankie, get your ass back here!" Frank whirled around to see Patrick busily mixing drinks and taking orders behind the bar, where Frank was currently getting paid to be.
"Shit. Coming, Patrick!" he shouted over the growing chatter and clinking of glasses inside the stylishly cramped room.
"Not likely," Gerard muttered as he slouched back and watched the smaller man slide his way behind the bar, ducking under the counter so that the top of his head just barely disappeared in the thick wood for a split second. His eyes trailed his practiced motions for a while, before sliding across the room and landing on the booth adjacent to his own, where a thin, effeminate man with long brown hair was staring directly at him, a small, adorable smirk on his lips.
Patrick had made his way through gathering fusion! and appropriately disposing of the majority of the glasses when the far end of the bar - where a few small pieces of glass were still lingering haphazardly - suddenly blurred, and the crown of a human head appeared through the marble countertop. The head soon gave way to a whole face, and before ten seconds had passed one Frank Iero fusion! was standing, waist deep in bar.
"Ow!" he howled, reaching fusion! up to clap a hand to his cheek. "There is glass on my face and it is stinging!" Patrick groaned, dropped the handful of shards he currently possessed into random trash bin #5, and fusion! disappeared to the front of the club to open the doors and start admitting patrons.
"Gerard!" Frank wailed, "There's glass in my hair!" fusion!
The only response he receieved was the small flurry of snowflakes that kicked up right in front of his nose.
"Not funny," Frank grumbled, as a tall, lean gentleman with brown hair that curled in tendrils at his chin slipped elegantly into a booth, leaning back and resting both arms on the back of the plastic-covered seat.
fusion!
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"Hey, Gerard," Frank waved. "I'm actually working tonight, so--"
"That's what I was planning on," Gerard interrupted.
Frank blinked, swallowed, and stared at the curve of Gerard's lips for a moment.
"Frankie, get your ass back here!" Frank whirled around to see Patrick busily mixing drinks and taking orders behind the bar, where Frank was currently getting paid to be.
"Shit. Coming, Patrick!" he shouted over the growing chatter and clinking of glasses inside the stylishly cramped room.
"Not likely," Gerard muttered as he slouched back and watched the smaller man slide his way behind the bar, ducking under the counter so that the top of his head just barely disappeared in the thick wood for a split second. His eyes trailed his practiced motions for a while, before sliding across the room and landing on the booth adjacent to his own, where a thin, effeminate man with long brown hair was staring directly at him, a small, adorable smirk on his lips.
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