Turn Up the Fakes and Lies
Title: Turn Up the Fakes and Lies
Author:iron_fist123 and vinvy
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: R (for language)
Summary: "If you touch him ever again I’m gonna see exactly what your insides look like. You crystal, joyboy?”
Warnings: profanity, violence, angst, entirely serious threats.
Disclaimer: Wash before wearing so our insane fallacies won't be seen by the public. We own nothing.
(Previous Chapters)
Act 5
“Hey, you two have hardly been up to eat or anything in a whole day. Let’s go. It’s time to wake up.”
If it hadn’t been a woman’s voice so gently shaking him from his dreams of pre-killjoy life he’d have thrown something at the intruder. He tugged the blankets over his head instead.
“C’mon, Kobra’s worried about you.”
“Bullshit.”
“Well, he’s worried about Poison and that means you by association, since you two are practically joined at the hip.”
Poison gave a sleepy laugh and untangled his limbs from Frank’s. “Understatement, Kandy.” He pulled the blanket off of Frank’s head. “You heard the lady, Fun Ghoul. She’s tryin’ to make an honest bunch out of us and I don’t have the heart to tell her it’s a lost cause.”
Frank groaned when Poison crawled over him and out of the bed. The strategy of ‘ignore it and it’ll go away’ hadn’t worked like he’d hoped.
“I smell real food. Kandy, you beautiful woman, don’t tell me you cooked somethin’?”
“Just bacon and eggs. What can I say? Power Pup is not what the baby wants. You’d better get it while there’s still some left.”
“I can see why my brother loves you.”
Frank pushed himself into sitting position when he heard Poison leave. Kandy was still standing by the door, smiling at him.
For some reason he found that knowing look irritating. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
“Just some stitches, bruises and stubble. Nothing abnormal for a Killjoy.”
“What’re you starin’ for?”
“It’s just that you two are... cute.”
He slid off the bed and tugged his boots on, ignoring the sting in his arm as he did so. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
That smile still wouldn’t go away. She pointed to the pair of boots sitting beside Frank’s. “You know, for all the years I’ve known Poison, he’s always slept with those on.”
“Maybe now they hurt his feet.”
She let out a light chuckle and shook her head. “Yes, Fun Ghoul, I’m sure that’s it. Hurry up- they’ll eat all the food before you get out there.” Kandy turned and left, her multi-colored hair swinging behind her.
Frank groaned, putting his head in his hands. She was so lovely- Kobra really was a lucky guy. Frank wondered briefly where they had met, what the circumstances were. The Zones weren’t exactly prime territory for matchmaking. He slung his holster over his shoulder, hissing as the wound on his arm burned suddenly. He cradled the limb to his chest, breathing deeply until the pain dulled into an aching throb. Fucking Frog Lady and her fucking teeth. He stood and stretched a bit then meandered into the main part of the diner.
“Its his damn fault for not getting up early enough to eat!”
“No!” Poison yelled at Kobra around a mouthful of toast, shoving a plate far away from him on the bar. “You already ate.”
“Yeah and I called dibs on what was left of the eggs.”
“Too bad,” he shoveled a few spoonfuls of egg from his own plate into his mouth.
That’s… disgusting. Can he even taste it?
“Yo, Ghoul, eat that before Kobra shoots you over it, yeah?”
Frank dumbly sat and did as he was told. A cup of coffee was set in front of him by a hand sporting bright blue fingernails.
“You better hurry, too,” Kandy smiled, “we’re rollin’ out in about ten minutes.”
What is it with these people and deciding they have to hurry just as soon as I wake up? He pouted, picking at his breakfast and sipping the coffee. This was admittedly one hundred times better than what Poison had served him that first day but he just wasn’t hungry. Not being included in the decision to leave somewhere was starting to bother him. In an alternate universe he’d probably unplug the Trans Am’s ignition fuses so they’d be incapable of leaving without consulting him first.
Poison got up from his seat at the bar and went to help Kobra, Show Pony, and Jet. They were packing D’s van with boxes from the kitchen, going back and forth like a trail of ants.
“Where exactly are we going?”
“You guys are going to a place called Junk Punk’s,” Grace answered, appearing at his side, “but Poison says I have to stay with Dr. Death Defying and Show Pony.”
She frowned a little, not looking pleased by the idea. There was a strip of medical tape wrapped around the crook of her arm that was colored in rainbow. While he and Poison had been sleeping off their wounds Jet must had drawn her blood for the BLI researcher. That meant a cure for the Zone Virus was in the works. It made Frank anxious to think about.
Knock it off- this is a good thing! Be happy about it. Somehow it just did not sit well with him.
~~
The road trip out to the far west side of Zone 6 had given Frank a certain sense of anticipation about his time at the next Fuck You House. Even the name Junk Punk’s called up images of, at the very least, something resembling an actual house. At the most he’d imagined another warehouse like Smoke and Sound- maybe two or three all connected like a fortress- with lots of color. A gas station half-buried in sand from too many wind storms was no where near the top of his expectations list. As they pulled up to the front of it the Trans Am made a sad, gravelly sound before the engine cut out completely. Why the hell hadn’t they brought an extra gallon of gasoline?
“It’s a good thing we’re at a fucking gas station,” Frank muttered, not trying to hide the miserable glare on his face. This was absurd in so many ways. This supposed to be the magnificent Fuck You House where they were supposed to stay safe in? Really? His arm had been throbbing for the last hour straight. It felt like getting bitten by Psycho Frog Lady all over again every three seconds.
“Shut up, Fun Ghoul,” Jet replied.
There was much slamming of doors and leers passed all around. The sour mood that had started with Frank had spread to all of them. Kobra was pissed because he’d had to let Kandy go with D, Jet Star was still treating Frank like getting injured was a grave crime and Poison was… Frank didn’t know the red head’s damage. He hadn’t said a word since breakfast, though, and had spent most of the drive staring at Frank in the rearview mirror. It was annoying as fuck, especially since he had no clue what to do about it or if he was supposed to do anything at all. The other night’s conversation had left him feeling much closer to Poison and more distant at the same time- how should he treat him now? Did this mean something had changed? Was it a good thing that Poison had opened up to him? Was he supposed to act normally? Because Poison sure as hell wasn’t...
The interior of the gas station was about as dusty and empty as the desert around it. It was also about ten degrees hotter. Sweat trickled down the side of Frank’s face. I hate this place.
Kobra folded his arms across his chest. “This is anti-fucking-climactic.”
Jet Star snorted, flipping through a rack of magazines. They looked ancient and had titles like Time and Rolling Stone. Frank grabbed an issue of Alternative Press. Underoath was on the dry and faded cover. He flipped through the pages without really reading the neat print on them- if he did that he might not have a chance to pull out of this confused funk and be useful to the Killjoys. This gas station must have been standing uninhabited since he was a freshman in college. Had Poison lost his mind? There was nothing here for them.
“They must be around here somewhere…” Poison rummaged about behind the counter, stuffing a pack of cigarettes into his pocket and running a hand along the wall. “I remember there was something…”
“Yeah well you better remember right ‘cause we’re out of gas and this place ain’t got a working fuel pump.”
“Don’t talk to me like an idiot, Kobra. I know that.” He had moved towards a door at the back of the room. It seemed to be locked but that didn’t deter him much when it came to trying to open it.
Kobra Kid just slumped against the doorframe, looking more the bratty younger brother than ever.
Frank flipped open his butterfly knife and used the tip of the blade to dig the dirt from under his fingernails. It was a poor use of his favorite weapon but what else was he going to do? Poison didn’t look like he was about to ask for help looking for whatever it was anytime soon. When his nails were pristine he jumped up beside the cash register, swinging his feet back and forth. He rubbed the edge of the knife against the thigh of his jeans rhythmically, scraping up a fine film of blue cotton. He could feel the friction from the motion on his skin. It would probably leave a raw welt. It made him feel a bit better.
A crash almost made him slice into his leg.
Poison let out a shout. The locked door was open wide. He’d been forced to his knees. A man in a full-face helmet had a hand twisted in his bright hair and a reclaimed BLI flasher pressed to his temple.
“Hey there bitches, one move and we get to see if pretty boy’s brains match the tile!” The helmet sounded thrilled about the prospect.
Frank was off of his perch before he finished speaking and had the knife pressed against the man’s jugular.
“Ooh, an attack-trained Pomeranian. Little guy, didn’t your mama tell you not to bring a knife to a gun fight?”
“What d’ya wanna bet I won’t saw your head off with it?” He let the blade slip a little, drawing a trickle of blood. In a second a flasher was primed and pressed into the base of his skull.
“I know better than to make bets on your type,” a woman’s voice said, popping out of nowhere.
Frank was seeing red. He wanted nothing more than to get a good look at this guy’s esophagus. There was a panicked look in Poison’s eye- it had only been there for a second but it had been there- that shut off almost all sense of logic and mercy he had.
The sound of two more guns being drawn came from Frank’s right.
“No one is allowed to dust Fun Ghoul but me and he ain’t given me a good enough reason to yet,” Kobra spat.
“Don’t be stupid- you’re out numbered no matter who you kill,” Jet said in a slow voice. “You alright, Poison?”
“Yeah, I’m just fuckin’ peachy. Thanks for asking.” The nose of the flasher digging into his temple looked like it would leave a bruise.
Frank had the urge to accidentally twitch and lay open the man’s throat. If he was fast enough about it he could duck away from the woman, too. He could probably work it out so she wouldn’t have to die- assuming Kobra or Jet didn’t shoot her- but the man... that one had to die. Frank needed to see his blood on the grungy floor in the next thirty seconds, period. There was no other option.
Poison sniffed a few times and squinted up at the man with a death grip on his hair. “Elijah?”
“How do you know my name?”
“You’re the only asshole out here that smells like fuckin’ strawberries. Let go of me goddamn it!”
The pressure on the flasher eased up a bit. “Ger-“
“ -My name is “Party Poison” now, and I’d really like it if you let the fuck go of my fucking hair before you uttered another fucking syllable.” Poison’s head snapped forward as it was released. The flasher had left a small round burn on his temple.
“You always did overuse that word, Party Poison,” the man pulled off his crash helmet. His white-blonde hair was stuck down against his head with sweat.
At the same time Poison was released, the woman reached around Frank to latch onto and twist his wrist back towards her. He dropped the knife, swinging around and pulling out his flasher. Kobra grabbed the collar of her shredded shirt, jamming his gun into her cheek. Jet Star shot at Elijah, intentionally aiming off-center to graze his bare arm. The smell of fried flesh was instantaneous.
“Shit!”
“Jet! Kobra! Chill!” Poison was clambering to his feet. “And damn it Pepper let go of Fun Ghoul right now!”
Like a crashed harddrive they all stopped moving. Elijah cradled his wounded and slightly smoking arm.
Kobra was the first to speak, growling at his brother. “Who are these people?”
“I told you about ‘em, Kobra, a long time ago. They run Junk Punks. They helped me out when I first hit the Zones. They know Pony and D.”
“You people sure know how to roll out the welcome mat,” Jet Star interjected, lowering his gun but keeping his finger on the trigger. “I mean, really, you’re treating us like royalty.”
“I can’t imagine how they greet their families,” Kobra finished the thought for him.
“What’s there to prove to us that you aren’t spies?” Pepper glowered at them from behind her cat’s eye glasses.
Frank might have laughed at the irony of that but he was a little too busy trying not to jump on this “Elijah” character and turn his cranium to a watery pulp. He hadn’t just threatened Poison- he’d marked him. That was unacceptable.
“Look, I know that it’s a foreign concept out here but I really need you guys to trust us. We’ve got the static on us like acid on rain in July.”
“Pepper,” Elijah said, “this is that one guy. You remember him? The twitchy one from BC with the freaky Scarecrow eyes?”
A hostile silence followed. She curled a lip and headed through the door they’d burst through minutes before. “If they screw things up this is on you.”
Frank squatted and picked up his knife. He headed straight for Elijah, backing him up against the wall with the blade pressed into his stomach before the blond could react. “You know there’s only a quarter inch of skin and muscle between my knife and your internal organs? That’s shorter than a fingernail.”
“Call off your pet, Poison-“
“Fun Ghoul,” Poison set a hand on Frank’s shoulder.
He leaned up against Elijah, glorying when the taller man winced and he felt skin give just a bit under the pressure. “If you touch him ever again I’m gonna see exactly what your insides look like. You crystal, joyboy?”
“Ghoul! Relax- he didn’t know! You’d have done the same.” Poison pulled him back quickly and peeled Frank’s hand off the knife like a child who wasn’t to be trusted. He interlaced their fingers then flipped the knife shut. He tugged Frank towards the door. “C’mon, you’re gonna love this place. Lemme show you around, find us a room or something.”
The broken down door was only a facade. A heavy steel grate slid down behind them, followed by a two-way mirror made of something that must have been laser proof. Elijah vanished through the first doorway they came across, eager to get away from Frank, who’d fixed him with a solid death glare. Poison started rambling on about the House and its many “luxuries” to fill the awkward silence. He didn’t release his grip on Frank’s hand for a second.
Frank didn’t process a word Poison said. He didn’t really want to. He let himself be led down a few ominous flights of stairs and into the belly of a cave network. Most of it had been redone to look like a planned out bunker. There were communal spaces, several bathrooms complete with showers (Jet and Kobra had left to bathe when they noticed them) and a mess hall, too. It was a whole town underground. Poison mentioned something about there being separate housing for the genders, like college dorms but bigger and without the keg parties. Too many turns here and there brought them to what appeared to be the men’s sleeping quarters and a few failed attempts found them an empty room. Frank was wondering why he didn’t feel more impressed by it all.
His eyes were focused on the angry burn Elijah’s flasher had left on Poison’s skin. He could see blood in the wound and didn’t doubt that some skin was still melted to the gun’s muzzle.
“… home for the time being,” Poison sat down on the bed in the middle of the room and smiled up at Frank. “And the bed is bigger, too. No more cramped twin-sized mattress. Isn’t that great?”
He wanted to return the smile but he couldn’t. The image of Poison with a gun to his head was stuck in the front of his mind. His heart was pounding against his eardrums. The momentary flicker of fear he’d seen cross those bright eyes... He could barely feel the smarting wound on his arm or even relief from the oppressive heat which had faded when they went underground.
Frank untangled his hand from Poison’s and cupped the red head’s face. He bent and kissed him hard, forcing his tongue between Poison’s lips. He straddled him, ignoring the surprised sound of protest that he made. Frank couldn’t have cared less. Screw logic and sanity and the uncomfortable possibility of getting walked in on again. His brain had malfunctioned. He was afraid. He wanted to tug Poison into his chest cavity and stitch him up there because maybe then he might be able to do something to protect him.
Poison’s hands fluttered a bit then settled on Frank’s hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. He murmured into the violent kiss. “Frankie?”
He tugged at Poison’s lower lip with his teeth. “What?” He left a trail of open mouthed kisses down the other man’s jaw and bit into his neck. Probably a little too hard, judging from the yelp it earned him. Elijah had burned Poison, had left a mark on him. That was not okay with Frank.
“What’s gotten into you, Frankie?”
Less than half an hour ago, I thought you were going to die and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. It fucking terrified me beyond words. That’s what’s gotten into me, Gerard.
“Is this a problem?” He licked at the bite mark he’d left in Poison’s neck.
He hummed and slid his hands up the back of Frank’s shirt. It took him a moment to reply. “Not at all,” he breathed, “it’s just not normal for you.”
That stopped him cold, reality slapping him across the back of the head. Frank pulled back and let his hands drop. “You’ve known me for less than a month. You don’t have any idea what’s normal for me.”
He slipped off of Poison’s lap and left the room before the other man could even begin to argue with him. He walked through the House with his eyes trained on the ground. Some areas he passed through were crowded, others were empty. A few nice-sounding people in bright colored clothes said hello to him. He saw a few children. Once he thought he heard Jet Star shout his name. He walked until his legs felt weak and there was no one to be heard anywhere near him. He ducked inside a door and let it slam behind him.
The room was full of wooden crates but was otherwise empty. He sat on one of them, folding his legs and leaning back. He fumbled in the inside pocket of his vest and came up with a cigarette and lighter. There wasn’t much more satisfying that than first drag of chemicals into his lungs. It burned a bit and it was so very nice. His head quieted immediately. The confused rage was still there, bubbling under the surface, but he could think about it in words once the nicotine hit his brain.
God that asshole Elijah… I should have killed him. I should have fucking killed him. I want him dead. He flicked the ash off his cigarette.
Why does it matter? I barely know Poison or Gerard or whatever the hell else he goes by! If anything we’re glorified fuck buddies. It’s not like we’ve had any discussion about a relationship…
He drew another lungful of smoke. He makes me feel so…. I like being with him but I don’t think we’re on the same page. Maybe not even the same book. It’s like this is a joke for him. And this makes two people to call me his fucking “pet”. Frank failed at blowing smoke rings and settled on a fancy French exhalation instead.
But what he said that night, about Korse and all that… He must trust me. That must mean something, right?
He groaned. Everything hurt, inside and out. His arm, his head, that weird little organ inside his chest that kept his blood circulating- thinking was the enemy of contentment.
There was a shuffling of small feet. He looked up and almost fell over. Grace stood in a far corner of the room. The crate behind her was open and had packing peanuts littered around it.
“Mr. Ghoul?”
“Grace what are you doing here?”
She flinched and he realized that he’d shouted.
“You’re not in trouble,” he added quickly, lowering his voice, “you just startled me, that’s all.”
“Oh. I didn’t want to stay with Show Pony and them. I mean Kandy is nice and all and Dr. D is a lot of fun but I missed you guys before you even left. I got in the trunk then snuck down here before Elijah locked the door.”
His eyebrows were arched high on his forehead. Damn this kid was good at evasive tactics- he’d been the last one to get into the trunk of the Trans Am and he hadn’t noticed a thing. She was small enough- he supposed she could have slipped past Elijah during the scuffle... “That’s… impressive, kid.”
She beamed at him.
“But you can’t make a habit of doing that.”
Her grin fell.
He went on, “That’s only because you could get hurt, Grace, and we don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Oh.”
Frank ground out his cigarette, feeling guilty about polluting the air Grace had to breathe. The overprotective sibling instincts that he never knew he had kicked in when she was around.
“Are you okay Mr. Ghoul?”
“What makes you think I’m not?” He kept his tone light, hoping she wouldn’t press the matter. Though the last thing he wanted to do was unload this stupid wreck onto a child he couldn’t let himself lie to her.
“You seemed really sad when you came in so I was wondering what was wrong.”
“Oh, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“Is it Party Poison? You like… like him don’t you?” She took his stunned silence as a ‘yes’ and kept talking. “Show Pony told me some stories and Faerie tales and stuff. If you’re worried that he doesn’t like you back maybe you should give him flowers or jewelry or something like that. That’s what they did in the stories and it seemed to work.”
Of course, Show Pony. Shallow, corrupt Show Pony filling this innocent kid’s head with false ideals and romantic bullshit. Naturally the right thing to do.
“I might try that sometime Grace, thanks.” It wasn’t a lie if he said ‘might’, was it? “So, are you hungry? I’m sure I can find you some food around here somewhere.”
She nodded, her big eyes suddenly ravenous. That made Frank smile a little and he stood up, leading her out of the room.
Author:iron_fist123 and vinvy
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: R (for language)
Summary: "If you touch him ever again I’m gonna see exactly what your insides look like. You crystal, joyboy?”
Warnings: profanity, violence, angst, entirely serious threats.
Disclaimer: Wash before wearing so our insane fallacies won't be seen by the public. We own nothing.
(Previous Chapters)
Act 5
“Hey, you two have hardly been up to eat or anything in a whole day. Let’s go. It’s time to wake up.”
If it hadn’t been a woman’s voice so gently shaking him from his dreams of pre-killjoy life he’d have thrown something at the intruder. He tugged the blankets over his head instead.
“C’mon, Kobra’s worried about you.”
“Bullshit.”
“Well, he’s worried about Poison and that means you by association, since you two are practically joined at the hip.”
Poison gave a sleepy laugh and untangled his limbs from Frank’s. “Understatement, Kandy.” He pulled the blanket off of Frank’s head. “You heard the lady, Fun Ghoul. She’s tryin’ to make an honest bunch out of us and I don’t have the heart to tell her it’s a lost cause.”
Frank groaned when Poison crawled over him and out of the bed. The strategy of ‘ignore it and it’ll go away’ hadn’t worked like he’d hoped.
“I smell real food. Kandy, you beautiful woman, don’t tell me you cooked somethin’?”
“Just bacon and eggs. What can I say? Power Pup is not what the baby wants. You’d better get it while there’s still some left.”
“I can see why my brother loves you.”
Frank pushed himself into sitting position when he heard Poison leave. Kandy was still standing by the door, smiling at him.
For some reason he found that knowing look irritating. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
“Just some stitches, bruises and stubble. Nothing abnormal for a Killjoy.”
“What’re you starin’ for?”
“It’s just that you two are... cute.”
He slid off the bed and tugged his boots on, ignoring the sting in his arm as he did so. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
That smile still wouldn’t go away. She pointed to the pair of boots sitting beside Frank’s. “You know, for all the years I’ve known Poison, he’s always slept with those on.”
“Maybe now they hurt his feet.”
She let out a light chuckle and shook her head. “Yes, Fun Ghoul, I’m sure that’s it. Hurry up- they’ll eat all the food before you get out there.” Kandy turned and left, her multi-colored hair swinging behind her.
Frank groaned, putting his head in his hands. She was so lovely- Kobra really was a lucky guy. Frank wondered briefly where they had met, what the circumstances were. The Zones weren’t exactly prime territory for matchmaking. He slung his holster over his shoulder, hissing as the wound on his arm burned suddenly. He cradled the limb to his chest, breathing deeply until the pain dulled into an aching throb. Fucking Frog Lady and her fucking teeth. He stood and stretched a bit then meandered into the main part of the diner.
“Its his damn fault for not getting up early enough to eat!”
“No!” Poison yelled at Kobra around a mouthful of toast, shoving a plate far away from him on the bar. “You already ate.”
“Yeah and I called dibs on what was left of the eggs.”
“Too bad,” he shoveled a few spoonfuls of egg from his own plate into his mouth.
That’s… disgusting. Can he even taste it?
“Yo, Ghoul, eat that before Kobra shoots you over it, yeah?”
Frank dumbly sat and did as he was told. A cup of coffee was set in front of him by a hand sporting bright blue fingernails.
“You better hurry, too,” Kandy smiled, “we’re rollin’ out in about ten minutes.”
What is it with these people and deciding they have to hurry just as soon as I wake up? He pouted, picking at his breakfast and sipping the coffee. This was admittedly one hundred times better than what Poison had served him that first day but he just wasn’t hungry. Not being included in the decision to leave somewhere was starting to bother him. In an alternate universe he’d probably unplug the Trans Am’s ignition fuses so they’d be incapable of leaving without consulting him first.
Poison got up from his seat at the bar and went to help Kobra, Show Pony, and Jet. They were packing D’s van with boxes from the kitchen, going back and forth like a trail of ants.
“Where exactly are we going?”
“You guys are going to a place called Junk Punk’s,” Grace answered, appearing at his side, “but Poison says I have to stay with Dr. Death Defying and Show Pony.”
She frowned a little, not looking pleased by the idea. There was a strip of medical tape wrapped around the crook of her arm that was colored in rainbow. While he and Poison had been sleeping off their wounds Jet must had drawn her blood for the BLI researcher. That meant a cure for the Zone Virus was in the works. It made Frank anxious to think about.
Knock it off- this is a good thing! Be happy about it. Somehow it just did not sit well with him.
~~
The road trip out to the far west side of Zone 6 had given Frank a certain sense of anticipation about his time at the next Fuck You House. Even the name Junk Punk’s called up images of, at the very least, something resembling an actual house. At the most he’d imagined another warehouse like Smoke and Sound- maybe two or three all connected like a fortress- with lots of color. A gas station half-buried in sand from too many wind storms was no where near the top of his expectations list. As they pulled up to the front of it the Trans Am made a sad, gravelly sound before the engine cut out completely. Why the hell hadn’t they brought an extra gallon of gasoline?
“It’s a good thing we’re at a fucking gas station,” Frank muttered, not trying to hide the miserable glare on his face. This was absurd in so many ways. This supposed to be the magnificent Fuck You House where they were supposed to stay safe in? Really? His arm had been throbbing for the last hour straight. It felt like getting bitten by Psycho Frog Lady all over again every three seconds.
“Shut up, Fun Ghoul,” Jet replied.
There was much slamming of doors and leers passed all around. The sour mood that had started with Frank had spread to all of them. Kobra was pissed because he’d had to let Kandy go with D, Jet Star was still treating Frank like getting injured was a grave crime and Poison was… Frank didn’t know the red head’s damage. He hadn’t said a word since breakfast, though, and had spent most of the drive staring at Frank in the rearview mirror. It was annoying as fuck, especially since he had no clue what to do about it or if he was supposed to do anything at all. The other night’s conversation had left him feeling much closer to Poison and more distant at the same time- how should he treat him now? Did this mean something had changed? Was it a good thing that Poison had opened up to him? Was he supposed to act normally? Because Poison sure as hell wasn’t...
The interior of the gas station was about as dusty and empty as the desert around it. It was also about ten degrees hotter. Sweat trickled down the side of Frank’s face. I hate this place.
Kobra folded his arms across his chest. “This is anti-fucking-climactic.”
Jet Star snorted, flipping through a rack of magazines. They looked ancient and had titles like Time and Rolling Stone. Frank grabbed an issue of Alternative Press. Underoath was on the dry and faded cover. He flipped through the pages without really reading the neat print on them- if he did that he might not have a chance to pull out of this confused funk and be useful to the Killjoys. This gas station must have been standing uninhabited since he was a freshman in college. Had Poison lost his mind? There was nothing here for them.
“They must be around here somewhere…” Poison rummaged about behind the counter, stuffing a pack of cigarettes into his pocket and running a hand along the wall. “I remember there was something…”
“Yeah well you better remember right ‘cause we’re out of gas and this place ain’t got a working fuel pump.”
“Don’t talk to me like an idiot, Kobra. I know that.” He had moved towards a door at the back of the room. It seemed to be locked but that didn’t deter him much when it came to trying to open it.
Kobra Kid just slumped against the doorframe, looking more the bratty younger brother than ever.
Frank flipped open his butterfly knife and used the tip of the blade to dig the dirt from under his fingernails. It was a poor use of his favorite weapon but what else was he going to do? Poison didn’t look like he was about to ask for help looking for whatever it was anytime soon. When his nails were pristine he jumped up beside the cash register, swinging his feet back and forth. He rubbed the edge of the knife against the thigh of his jeans rhythmically, scraping up a fine film of blue cotton. He could feel the friction from the motion on his skin. It would probably leave a raw welt. It made him feel a bit better.
A crash almost made him slice into his leg.
Poison let out a shout. The locked door was open wide. He’d been forced to his knees. A man in a full-face helmet had a hand twisted in his bright hair and a reclaimed BLI flasher pressed to his temple.
“Hey there bitches, one move and we get to see if pretty boy’s brains match the tile!” The helmet sounded thrilled about the prospect.
Frank was off of his perch before he finished speaking and had the knife pressed against the man’s jugular.
“Ooh, an attack-trained Pomeranian. Little guy, didn’t your mama tell you not to bring a knife to a gun fight?”
“What d’ya wanna bet I won’t saw your head off with it?” He let the blade slip a little, drawing a trickle of blood. In a second a flasher was primed and pressed into the base of his skull.
“I know better than to make bets on your type,” a woman’s voice said, popping out of nowhere.
Frank was seeing red. He wanted nothing more than to get a good look at this guy’s esophagus. There was a panicked look in Poison’s eye- it had only been there for a second but it had been there- that shut off almost all sense of logic and mercy he had.
The sound of two more guns being drawn came from Frank’s right.
“No one is allowed to dust Fun Ghoul but me and he ain’t given me a good enough reason to yet,” Kobra spat.
“Don’t be stupid- you’re out numbered no matter who you kill,” Jet said in a slow voice. “You alright, Poison?”
“Yeah, I’m just fuckin’ peachy. Thanks for asking.” The nose of the flasher digging into his temple looked like it would leave a bruise.
Frank had the urge to accidentally twitch and lay open the man’s throat. If he was fast enough about it he could duck away from the woman, too. He could probably work it out so she wouldn’t have to die- assuming Kobra or Jet didn’t shoot her- but the man... that one had to die. Frank needed to see his blood on the grungy floor in the next thirty seconds, period. There was no other option.
Poison sniffed a few times and squinted up at the man with a death grip on his hair. “Elijah?”
“How do you know my name?”
“You’re the only asshole out here that smells like fuckin’ strawberries. Let go of me goddamn it!”
The pressure on the flasher eased up a bit. “Ger-“
“ -My name is “Party Poison” now, and I’d really like it if you let the fuck go of my fucking hair before you uttered another fucking syllable.” Poison’s head snapped forward as it was released. The flasher had left a small round burn on his temple.
“You always did overuse that word, Party Poison,” the man pulled off his crash helmet. His white-blonde hair was stuck down against his head with sweat.
At the same time Poison was released, the woman reached around Frank to latch onto and twist his wrist back towards her. He dropped the knife, swinging around and pulling out his flasher. Kobra grabbed the collar of her shredded shirt, jamming his gun into her cheek. Jet Star shot at Elijah, intentionally aiming off-center to graze his bare arm. The smell of fried flesh was instantaneous.
“Shit!”
“Jet! Kobra! Chill!” Poison was clambering to his feet. “And damn it Pepper let go of Fun Ghoul right now!”
Like a crashed harddrive they all stopped moving. Elijah cradled his wounded and slightly smoking arm.
Kobra was the first to speak, growling at his brother. “Who are these people?”
“I told you about ‘em, Kobra, a long time ago. They run Junk Punks. They helped me out when I first hit the Zones. They know Pony and D.”
“You people sure know how to roll out the welcome mat,” Jet Star interjected, lowering his gun but keeping his finger on the trigger. “I mean, really, you’re treating us like royalty.”
“I can’t imagine how they greet their families,” Kobra finished the thought for him.
“What’s there to prove to us that you aren’t spies?” Pepper glowered at them from behind her cat’s eye glasses.
Frank might have laughed at the irony of that but he was a little too busy trying not to jump on this “Elijah” character and turn his cranium to a watery pulp. He hadn’t just threatened Poison- he’d marked him. That was unacceptable.
“Look, I know that it’s a foreign concept out here but I really need you guys to trust us. We’ve got the static on us like acid on rain in July.”
“Pepper,” Elijah said, “this is that one guy. You remember him? The twitchy one from BC with the freaky Scarecrow eyes?”
A hostile silence followed. She curled a lip and headed through the door they’d burst through minutes before. “If they screw things up this is on you.”
Frank squatted and picked up his knife. He headed straight for Elijah, backing him up against the wall with the blade pressed into his stomach before the blond could react. “You know there’s only a quarter inch of skin and muscle between my knife and your internal organs? That’s shorter than a fingernail.”
“Call off your pet, Poison-“
“Fun Ghoul,” Poison set a hand on Frank’s shoulder.
He leaned up against Elijah, glorying when the taller man winced and he felt skin give just a bit under the pressure. “If you touch him ever again I’m gonna see exactly what your insides look like. You crystal, joyboy?”
“Ghoul! Relax- he didn’t know! You’d have done the same.” Poison pulled him back quickly and peeled Frank’s hand off the knife like a child who wasn’t to be trusted. He interlaced their fingers then flipped the knife shut. He tugged Frank towards the door. “C’mon, you’re gonna love this place. Lemme show you around, find us a room or something.”
The broken down door was only a facade. A heavy steel grate slid down behind them, followed by a two-way mirror made of something that must have been laser proof. Elijah vanished through the first doorway they came across, eager to get away from Frank, who’d fixed him with a solid death glare. Poison started rambling on about the House and its many “luxuries” to fill the awkward silence. He didn’t release his grip on Frank’s hand for a second.
Frank didn’t process a word Poison said. He didn’t really want to. He let himself be led down a few ominous flights of stairs and into the belly of a cave network. Most of it had been redone to look like a planned out bunker. There were communal spaces, several bathrooms complete with showers (Jet and Kobra had left to bathe when they noticed them) and a mess hall, too. It was a whole town underground. Poison mentioned something about there being separate housing for the genders, like college dorms but bigger and without the keg parties. Too many turns here and there brought them to what appeared to be the men’s sleeping quarters and a few failed attempts found them an empty room. Frank was wondering why he didn’t feel more impressed by it all.
His eyes were focused on the angry burn Elijah’s flasher had left on Poison’s skin. He could see blood in the wound and didn’t doubt that some skin was still melted to the gun’s muzzle.
“… home for the time being,” Poison sat down on the bed in the middle of the room and smiled up at Frank. “And the bed is bigger, too. No more cramped twin-sized mattress. Isn’t that great?”
He wanted to return the smile but he couldn’t. The image of Poison with a gun to his head was stuck in the front of his mind. His heart was pounding against his eardrums. The momentary flicker of fear he’d seen cross those bright eyes... He could barely feel the smarting wound on his arm or even relief from the oppressive heat which had faded when they went underground.
Frank untangled his hand from Poison’s and cupped the red head’s face. He bent and kissed him hard, forcing his tongue between Poison’s lips. He straddled him, ignoring the surprised sound of protest that he made. Frank couldn’t have cared less. Screw logic and sanity and the uncomfortable possibility of getting walked in on again. His brain had malfunctioned. He was afraid. He wanted to tug Poison into his chest cavity and stitch him up there because maybe then he might be able to do something to protect him.
Poison’s hands fluttered a bit then settled on Frank’s hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. He murmured into the violent kiss. “Frankie?”
He tugged at Poison’s lower lip with his teeth. “What?” He left a trail of open mouthed kisses down the other man’s jaw and bit into his neck. Probably a little too hard, judging from the yelp it earned him. Elijah had burned Poison, had left a mark on him. That was not okay with Frank.
“What’s gotten into you, Frankie?”
Less than half an hour ago, I thought you were going to die and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. It fucking terrified me beyond words. That’s what’s gotten into me, Gerard.
“Is this a problem?” He licked at the bite mark he’d left in Poison’s neck.
He hummed and slid his hands up the back of Frank’s shirt. It took him a moment to reply. “Not at all,” he breathed, “it’s just not normal for you.”
That stopped him cold, reality slapping him across the back of the head. Frank pulled back and let his hands drop. “You’ve known me for less than a month. You don’t have any idea what’s normal for me.”
He slipped off of Poison’s lap and left the room before the other man could even begin to argue with him. He walked through the House with his eyes trained on the ground. Some areas he passed through were crowded, others were empty. A few nice-sounding people in bright colored clothes said hello to him. He saw a few children. Once he thought he heard Jet Star shout his name. He walked until his legs felt weak and there was no one to be heard anywhere near him. He ducked inside a door and let it slam behind him.
The room was full of wooden crates but was otherwise empty. He sat on one of them, folding his legs and leaning back. He fumbled in the inside pocket of his vest and came up with a cigarette and lighter. There wasn’t much more satisfying that than first drag of chemicals into his lungs. It burned a bit and it was so very nice. His head quieted immediately. The confused rage was still there, bubbling under the surface, but he could think about it in words once the nicotine hit his brain.
God that asshole Elijah… I should have killed him. I should have fucking killed him. I want him dead. He flicked the ash off his cigarette.
Why does it matter? I barely know Poison or Gerard or whatever the hell else he goes by! If anything we’re glorified fuck buddies. It’s not like we’ve had any discussion about a relationship…
He drew another lungful of smoke. He makes me feel so…. I like being with him but I don’t think we’re on the same page. Maybe not even the same book. It’s like this is a joke for him. And this makes two people to call me his fucking “pet”. Frank failed at blowing smoke rings and settled on a fancy French exhalation instead.
But what he said that night, about Korse and all that… He must trust me. That must mean something, right?
He groaned. Everything hurt, inside and out. His arm, his head, that weird little organ inside his chest that kept his blood circulating- thinking was the enemy of contentment.
There was a shuffling of small feet. He looked up and almost fell over. Grace stood in a far corner of the room. The crate behind her was open and had packing peanuts littered around it.
“Mr. Ghoul?”
“Grace what are you doing here?”
She flinched and he realized that he’d shouted.
“You’re not in trouble,” he added quickly, lowering his voice, “you just startled me, that’s all.”
“Oh. I didn’t want to stay with Show Pony and them. I mean Kandy is nice and all and Dr. D is a lot of fun but I missed you guys before you even left. I got in the trunk then snuck down here before Elijah locked the door.”
His eyebrows were arched high on his forehead. Damn this kid was good at evasive tactics- he’d been the last one to get into the trunk of the Trans Am and he hadn’t noticed a thing. She was small enough- he supposed she could have slipped past Elijah during the scuffle... “That’s… impressive, kid.”
She beamed at him.
“But you can’t make a habit of doing that.”
Her grin fell.
He went on, “That’s only because you could get hurt, Grace, and we don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Oh.”
Frank ground out his cigarette, feeling guilty about polluting the air Grace had to breathe. The overprotective sibling instincts that he never knew he had kicked in when she was around.
“Are you okay Mr. Ghoul?”
“What makes you think I’m not?” He kept his tone light, hoping she wouldn’t press the matter. Though the last thing he wanted to do was unload this stupid wreck onto a child he couldn’t let himself lie to her.
“You seemed really sad when you came in so I was wondering what was wrong.”
“Oh, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“Is it Party Poison? You like… like him don’t you?” She took his stunned silence as a ‘yes’ and kept talking. “Show Pony told me some stories and Faerie tales and stuff. If you’re worried that he doesn’t like you back maybe you should give him flowers or jewelry or something like that. That’s what they did in the stories and it seemed to work.”
Of course, Show Pony. Shallow, corrupt Show Pony filling this innocent kid’s head with false ideals and romantic bullshit. Naturally the right thing to do.
“I might try that sometime Grace, thanks.” It wasn’t a lie if he said ‘might’, was it? “So, are you hungry? I’m sure I can find you some food around here somewhere.”
She nodded, her big eyes suddenly ravenous. That made Frank smile a little and he stood up, leading her out of the room.