Fic: Everyone Comes To Pan's Part Four
Everyone Comes To Pan’s
Part Four
He didn’t know how long he’d been stacking and ordering the boxes, desperately trying no to think of Gerard, when he felt it - the warmth of someone standing close, just over his shoulder. Frank froze.
"You shouldn't be in here," he said, trying to ignore the heat coiling low in his belly, the way his body flinched and keened at the same time. “I didn’t invite you this time.”
"You called," Gerard said, voice high and light. Because of course, of course it was him. As if Frank could have been in any doubt, the way Frank'd felt as soon as he'd known there was someone else in the storeroom.
"You called and I came," Gerard breathed, stepping closer, right up against Frank, his chest flush with Frank's back, hips pressed against Frank's.
"I didn't..."
But Gerard didn't let him finish. He slipped his arm around Frank's waist and pulled him closer, buried his face in the crook of Frank's neck, breathing deep, taking in his scent.
Frank let his eyes fluttered closed, his arms hanging loose at his sides. God. His legs felt weak and a dull pleasure-ache rolled up his arms, into his chest, throbbing down between his legs. He’d been waiting for this, he realized. For Gerard's breath, warm against his tingling skin.
"Smell so good," Gerard breathed. "Coffee and chocolate and, Frankie, missed you...Frankie."
Frank felt the words buzz against his throat. He let his head drift back onto Gerard's shoulder and pressed his hands back behind him, clutching Gerard's thighs.
They shouldn't be doing this. Not here, not when - not when Frank was such a mess. Ensorcelled, Gerard had called it. 'Fuzzy headed’ and insane was Frank's term for it.
No, they shouldn't be doing this. Anyone could come in, Adam, or Brandon. God, Brandon could find them, touching.
The pleasure-ache sparkled in Frank's gut. He tensed his muscles and relaxed, rolling his head a little as Gerard suckled his neck. Frank's nipples tightened; he pushed out his chest, begging to be touched. Jesus, fuck.
Gerard pulled back a little and Frank whimpered. The back of his neck was chilled, bare. He reached up and cupped Gerard's head, fingers threading into his hair. He tugged. "C'mere."
Gerard laughed, lips damp and warm right next to Frank's ear. "You like that, Frankie. Like my mouth on you."
Frank moaned and rolled his head, mouth searching for Gerard's. "Kiss," he breathed, because he'd lost his words and only his hind brain knew what Frank wanted. The hand Gerard wasn't using to hold him up played across Frank's chest, massaging and caressing, stroking and pinching. Frank could feel himself starting to get hard, the buzzing, fluttering fullness in his cock demanding his attention.
Then there was Gerard's breath on his dry lips, the soft press of his wet mouth to Frank's, the tip of his tongue slipping between Frank's teeth.
Frank's knees buckled. He whined and Gerard laughed.
"Shhhh, shhhh, Frankie, that’s it. I've got you." His arm tightened around Frank's waist, and he pulled them back a few steps, towards the door. Frank felt Gerard land against it with a light thud, then felt his leg slip between Frank's, helping to keep him upright.
"That's it," Gerard breathed. "So good, Frankie. So good."
His voice. Frank had never heard him like that, desperate and drunk with it; rough and breathy and broken.
Something rolled tight and unfurled beneath Frank's heart. "Gee," he whispered. "Gee."
"Yeah, Frankie. Yeah." Gerard reached down and cupped Frank's cock through his jeans, pressing the heel of his hand in, then reaching down and tugging gently.
"Oh, fuck," Frank groaned.
Gerard massaged Frank's balls through the denim, then slowly slid his hand back to press against the underside of his cock, pushing up, hard in his jeans, again. Back and forwards, cupping and tugging on Frank until it was all Frank could feel, the pleasure-ache, slicing down through his body leaving him weak. Over and over; tugging and squeezing as Frank shuddered and writhed in Gerard's embrace, and tried, hopelessly, to grind down on his thigh.
"You call to me all day," Gerard breathed, and the hand around Frank's waist slid over his stomach, fingers splayed, bright points of heat over Frank's quivering muscles. "The way you move, the way you look. Think I can't see? Think I don't hear it?"
"I, I don't..." Frank stammered for the words because he didn't, he didn’t mean to, he didn't know he was doing it.
"Shhhh," Gerard sighed and bit down a little on Frank's throat. "Shhh, I don't want to hear anymore of your lies."
He slid his hand higher, and pinched Frank's nipple. Frank bucked, and Gerard hoisted him back up, higher on the leg he had braced against the door.
"No. More. Lies Frankie," he breathed, and pressed two fingers into Frank's mouth.
Frank couldn't help himself, moaning around Gerard's long, thin fingers, sucking them, laving at the salt-bitter iron taste of his skin. They felt smooth against his tongue, he sucked them hard, biting and pressing his tongue in between them, licking at the smooth curve between them. Gerard pressed them further back into his throat and Frank choked a little.
"Relax, that's it," Gerard breathed. "You can... that's it."
Frank relaxed and took it as Gerard's fingers pushed into him. His mouth watered around them, and his hips twitched.
Gerard trailed his other hand up Frank's fly and slowly tugged it open. He flicked the button open too, pushed his jeans out of the way and slipped his hand under the waistband of Frank's shorts. Gerard’s hand was cold and this was too much, too much. Frank wriggled and grabbed at Gerard's arms, scrabbling at his his biceps and digging in his nails. He pushed at the fingers in his mouth with his tongue, bit them. Pushed at Gerard’s arm, but he he was so strong. So much stronger than Frank.
Gerard hummed soothing sounds. "Uh uh, Frankie, calm down," he whispered. “Shhh. That’s it. Good.”
Frank felt cool-warm fingers on his cock, tight and firm, pulling Frank out of his clothes. Frank tried to look, but Gerard just pressed his fingers further back into Frank's mouth, keeping Frank’s head back against Gerard's shoulder.
"You want me to stop?" he sighed, nuzzling Frank's cheek. "Want me to leave?"
Panic gripped Frank. He struggled again, shaking his head and whining. He sucked hard on Gerard's fingers.
"Okay," said Gerard. He let his fingertips play lightly up Frank's shaft and dance over the head of his cock. He swirled the head in the palm of his hand and trailed his fingers down to the root again. His touch was feather light and nowhere near enough, not even in the same realm as enough. Frank felt the whine start in the back of his throat and his hips kicked forward, and Gerard's fingers slowed, skating almost ticklish over the skin of his cock.
Frank breathed through his nose in deep, frantic bellows. Please, please. His thoughts had become a cacophony of panic and lust and aching.
Gerard massaged the little knot of nerves under the head of Frank’s cock - tiny little circles of sensation on Frank’s over-heated flesh -- darting away just as the sensations started to coalesce, just before Frank could latch on to the sensation and ride it home.
Home. Frank moaned.
Gerard was relentless. His fingertips skated through the pre-come leaking from Frank’s cockhead. Dragging sharp arcs of sparkling pleasure up and down his cock, twisting and turning and massaging the pleasure-ache deeper and deeper into him. Frank was so sensitized he felt like the ridge of Gerard's fingerprint was as sharp as the scrape of a nail over his heated flesh.
Please, God.
"Soon, Frankie," Gerard breathed, swirling his fingers as he dragged them from root to tip, over and over again.
Frank felt it rising in him, felt his balls pull up, slowly, achingly, into his body. His hips twitched. He was coming. He groaned and bit down on the fingers stroking his tongue.
"Not yet, Frankie," Gerard said, squeezing the base of Frank's cock between his thumb and forefingers.
Frank screamed, or he would have screamed, if he hadn't been choking on the fingers in his mouth. Fuck, no. He sobbed and the tension drained out of his muscles and his orgasm sank back into the pit of his belly.
Gerard’s fingertips skated over him again. And Frank felt tears of frustration slip over his cheeks. Gerard licked at them, humming.
"Good," he sighed. “So good, Frankie.”
On and on it went, Frank rising and being pulled back under. On and on until Frank was nothing but the hand on his cock and the fingers in his mouth. He was a dead-but-twitching weight in Gerard’s arms, he couldn't loosen his fingers from their grip of Gerard’s arms, he couldn't release the sucking vacuum of his mouth.
He couldn't even get the little noises he was making, the little swallowed 'gah, gah, gah’s' in the back of his throat, to stop.
“Now, Frankie,” Gerard whispered, as Frank felt the glory rise up in him again, a spark of light from Gerard’s fingers into his cock, into all his flesh. "Can you see, Frankie? Can you see yet?"
But Frank couldn't see anything, he had trouble even understanding the words. He couldn't open his eyes; his head rolled on his shoulders; his skin tingled and ached.
"Open your eyes, Frankie," Gerard said. "Open them.”
But he couldn't; he didn't want to; he couldn't.
"Open them, Frank." Gerard’s words were sharp and loud in the silent room. He pulled his fingers from Frank’s mouth. His hand gripped Frank’s cock hard, jacking him tightly. "Look," he growled. “Fucking look.”
Frank blinked. The light hurt his eyes. Spots danced in his vision. He blinked away the tears, blinked the tendrils of dark light out of his eyes. "Oh God," he screamed.
The room was gone, the walls spreading out for miles in all directions, and there was nothing but wilderness and night-that-was-day and the throbbing, pounding of his flesh, and the stars singing and swirling above his head in time with the song-fire in his flesh. And there was Gerard, warm and tight and so, so warm around him.
Frank came in long hard jerks of pleasure that lanced through him, as his come arced out of his body.
"Do you see?" Gerard hissed, his voice hot and close. "Do you see, Frankie?"
Frank felt himself lift out of his body, and then felt himself slam back into himself hard. The world righted itself. The stars were silent. Four walls, shelves, sacks of flour and Gerard’s arms around him and the sound of them both breathing, heavy and hard in the oaty-clean scented store room.
Frank shuddered and shivered and shook. "I see," he sobbed. "I see."
*
Afterwards, dark and quiet was what Frank needed. The best place to get dark quiet was in a basement. They’d lain together on the floor of the store room for a long time. Quiet and wrapped in each other. But now Frank needed to be alone.
Gerard had driven him home and walked him to his door. Frank could tell he’d wanted to come inside too, but Frank needed silence to understand what he’d seen, what he’d felt.
On the way over, Gerard had been quiet, but the other thing Frank could tell was that Gerard was impatient. Frank didn’t know what for, not after what he’d already given him. Whatever it was, Frank couldn’t deal with that right now.
“I don’t want to - I need some time,” Frank had said, before Gerard could speak. They’d stayed there, clutching each other, panting in the store room. And Frank had felt it when Gerad retreated, like blood being pulled from his vein.
And now, at the door to Bob’s house, Gerard caught Frank’s face in his cupped hands and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “Come back to Pan’s when you’re ready, Frankie,” he said, and kissed Frank again, deeper, firmer - a kiss full of questions and the promise of answers. Frank slid his arms around Gerard’s waist and twisted his hands in the fabric of his shirt. “Come back and I’ll tell you everything.”
After a second Gerard pulled back. He looked at the front door, and back down at Frank. “You’d better get inside,” he said, his voice a hushed breath against Frank’s lips. “If you’re going.”
Frank shivered and untangled himself from Gerard. “I’ll - I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, and slipped inside.
Frank pressed his back to the closed door and took a couple of deep breaths. He still felt so weak, so shakey. He didn’t hear Gerard’s feet on the porch or the sound of his car starting, but when Frank turned a few seconds later and looked out the window, they were both gone.
“Bob?”
Frank sat down gingerly on the couch - his skin was still so sensitive, his vision was still swimming. Bob didn’t seem to notice Frank’s arrival; he was engrossed in blasting a bunker somewhere in the game. His face was fierce, but at the sound of his name he paused the game and shifted round in his seat.
“Holy fuck, Iero. Someone rough you up on the way home?”
Frank snorted. He had no idea what he looked like, but he could feel the hot flush still in his cheeks, and he figured his hair hadn’t come out of the store room the same way it had gone in. He reached up and smoothed it down.
He noticed his arms then. The ink was swirling - stars and words and signs bursting out and realigning and sinking back into his skin. Frank pressed closed his eyes.
“I need to tell you something,” Frank said.
Bob nodded and put the controller down.
“I think I’m having a mental break down,” Frank sighed, even though he knew, knew that wasn’t what was happening.
Bob took a deep breath. “Wait,” he said, standing. “I’m getting Peppers.”
He disappeared and few seconds later Frank heard the sound of Peppers’ little claws tearing up the steps from the basement. She flew into the room, and into Frank’s lap, yipping, and yapping and...
Oh Frank! You’re home! I Missed you. Don’t go away again! I missed you so much; you’re home! I’m really hungry. Feed me? You’re home! Peppers said.
“Bob,” Frank winced. Because that wasn’t Bob speaking.
“I told you; she’s your dog,” Bob said, standing in the doorway, hands on his hips.
I waited for you all day today, Frank. And then Bob came home! I’m really hungry. Is it dinner time? It’s definitely dinner time. I missed you. Did you miss me? Rub my tummy. I love you!
“Bob, Peppers is talking to me,” Frank said, looking up at his friend. “I think I need a doctor.”
Are you sick, Frank? Peppers said, and sat staring at him, still on high alert, her little tail thumping.
Frank blinked. “I’m not...” Frank started to reply to Peppers, but stopped himself and turned to Bob, desperate for some kind of answer. Preferably one that didn’t include the words ‘Oh, didn’t you get the memo? Animals talk now. Roll with it.’. “Bob? What the fuck?”
“It’s okay, Frankie,” Bob said, sitting down on the couch again. He scratched behind Peppers’ ears and she sighed.
“You know my dad was Irish?” Bob said finally, and scooped Peppers’ out of Frank’s arms. “And like, he had a bunch of crazy assed stories from back there, as you would, about the police and the troubles and bombs in his back fucking yard. But he had other stories too,” Bob fixed Frank with a stare.
“About?” Frank choked out.
“Faeries,” Bob said, without a flicker of humour.
“Fairies?”
Bob shook his head. “Faeries, there’s a difference.”
Frank realised he was wringing his hands, trying to stop the ink on them from moving. He put his palms flat in his lap.
“They’re - they’re different in Ireland. Not little fluffy things with wings and shit. My old man, he was genuinely scared of them. Respectful, you know? And that’s how he brought me up. And that’s why you’re always welcome in my house, Frank. Always.”
Frank shook his head. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t.
Bob put his big paw on Frank’s shoulder and squeezed. “At first I was just waiting for you to tell me, or, I dunno, show me or something. But then after you moved in, I knew there was something wrong.”
Frank shook his head. “What the fuck are you talking about,” Frank said, dropping his head into his hands and groaning.
“I’m talking about you, a fucking, fucking Faerie, stuck in Chicago with no clue who you are!” Bob said, raising his voice and throwing up both hands. “I’ve been freaking out about it for fucking months. Waiting for you to snap and fucking curse me or some shit.” Bob stood up again and stalked over to the book shelf by the TV. He pulled down a big, grey leather bound book.
“All the books in this house, and you never looked at this one. Not once.” He held it out to Frank.
The words on the spine were all twisted and strange and full of too many consonants to be English. They were like the words above the door of the City Library. Gaelic.
When Frank didn’t take the book, Bob opened it. “Look,” he said and pointed at the page.
There was a picture of a wood, dark and eerie, with tall gnarled trees in a half circle. And in the middle were Adam, Zach and Frank, rolling and playing in a mound of nut brown fallen leaves. Only they couldn’t really be Adam, Zach and Frank, because the book looked like it was a five thousand years old - well, a hundred or so, at least.
Only, there they were, three little, dark, painted men, peering out from the leaves.
“That’s not me,” Frank said.
“Frank,” Bob said, and he turned the page.
Frank had never had a portrait done, but if he had, he’d have been glad if it turned out like the one on the page in front of him. It had the weird arch of his eyebrows, and muddy hazel of his eyes, and even the little holes in his ears where he’d worn spacers. It was Frank, right down to the curling tail of the scorpion tattoo on his neck.
“This book was my grandma’s, and then my dad’s,” Bob said. “I’ve had this book for as long as I can remember. I knew who you were the day you walked into the Lobster Shack, Frankie. You’re one of them.”
Frank felt the hot warmth rolling down his cheeks. He was crying. He looked up at Bob and shook his head. “No,” Frank whimpered. No. I’m not. I’m not. I’m a real person. Just like you. I’m a - I’m a...”
Bob’s jaw went tight and he breathed deep through his nose. “When you said about Pan’s, and like, when Peppers was so attached -” Bob turned the page and there was Frank with a little dark brown dog, and again on the next page with a big old boxer. “I knew you had to leave here. Leave my place...”
“So you g-gave me the jacket,” Frank stammered, and sniffed back a couple of tears. “To set me free.”
“You’re always welcome here. Always. But, I can’t keep you here.” He waved his arm about. “You gotta go... cavort or some shit. I dunno what you guys do these days, but you gotta go do it. With them.”
He turned the last page and there was a bonfire, tall as the trees and raging, and round it were rings of little guys, a lot like Frankie, dancing and leaping and, yeah, cavorting.
“I don’t know why you’re here, in Chicago, I mean. But I know one thing. You’re not gonna get the answers from me. You’ve got to go back,” Bob said.
“To Pan’s, ” Frank said and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand.
*
All the lights were on when he and Peppers arrived at the little alleyway off Mornington Crescent.
Frank’s heart sank. He didn’t want to go in there. He didn’t want to see them all, and have them know that he knew, that he was a freak, like them.
He thought about running. Taking Peppers and just leaving. He could try Boston, or New York, or... but the thought of never seeing Gerard again... made his stomach ache.
Something welled up in him then, a protest. He’d seen them, Zach and Adam; seen them doing some sort of kitchen version of cavorting. He’d seen Mikey and Ray, felt Gerard, seen the stars. He’d seen the inked bats flying around on his own skin. None of them were normal. But whatever they were, it wasn’t freakish. It was something really weird, and really beautiful.
It’s okay, Frank, Peppers said. They’re our friends. They’ll know what to do.
“You think so, kid?” Frank asked, looking down at her. She yapped.
“Okay,” he said, and pushed open the back door into the dark kitchen.
Inside he heard the murmur of voices, lots of voices, from the café.
Frank took a deep breath and pushed open that door too. The room beyond went silent.
Adam, Zach and Brandon were sitting cross legged on a table near the center of the room. Next to them stood Keenan, his little ferret drapped over his shoulders. Mikey stood with Ray across from them holding Dewees, the Burmese cat. There were several other waiters and dish hands there too. There were regulars, and other staff Frank barely knew. And in the middle of them all, standing on the biggest table in the café with his hands on his hips and his feet spread wide, was Pete.
“You’re late, Frankie,” he said with a wink. “I might have to dock your pay.”
Frank stared. “Pete? What the...”
“Frankie,” Gerard said, coming across the café to him immediately. “Frankie -”
“It’s okay, Gerard, “ Frank said, his eyes still on Pete. He turned slowly, to Gerard. “I know what I am now.” Frank swallowed. “Why didn’t you tell me?” It was all Frank wanted to know. Because they must have known, mustn’t they? Why hadn’t anyone said?
“I - we...” Gerard reached for him and Frank felt that familiar tingle on his skin. He’d thought it was something special, just for him and Gerard. But it wasn’t, it was something else.
“What is that? When we touch, what is it?”
“It’s magic, Frank,” Pete said, leaping gracefully down from the table and walking over to them. He put his hand on Frank’s arm and the tingles zinged all over Frank’s body.
“We’re all enchanted,” Gerard said. “All of us. It’s...” He looked at Pete, who nodded. Gerard took a deep breath. “It’s why we’re here, at Pan’s.”
“Bewitched, ensnared, ensourcelled,” Pete said. “Oh, and I’m Pan, by the way. You got that, right?”
Frank rolled his eyes. “Jesus.”
“Okay, okay,” said Pete, holding up his hands. “Some of the other guys were a bit dense and didn’t get it the first time.”
“Hey!” Brandon said. Pete flashed him a huge smile.
“You mean, like, you’re all literally like me?” Frank said, taking in the room and all the dear, beloved faces watching him.
“Well, we knew we were different, Frankie,” Gerard said. “We just didn’t, you know, know how different.”
“But then Pan came. And we remembered,” Mikey said, walking over to them with Ray in tow, their hands locked. “Like you remember. You can remember, right Frankie?”
“Remember what?” Frank blinked. “I don’t remember anything.” It was really true. He couldn’t remember anything past a year ago. Not his family, or his home in New Jersey, neither of which were real, he realized; they never had been. He couldn’t remember the name of his high school or who his first crush was. Because they weren’t real. It was as if he hadn’t existed before the last 12 months.
Mikey bit his lip.
“Fuck,” Gerard said. “I fucking... fuck it.” He squeezed Frank’s hand, he turned to Pete. “Pan?”
Pete chewed his lip. “I’m not gonna say I told you so, Gee, but man, I frikken told you so. Sex magic is still magic. And the rules were...”
“NO MAGIC,” the whole room chorused. Gerard pressed closed his eyes.
“Wait , that was...” Frank lowered his voice, pitching it at Gerard and away from Pete whose ears were practically waggling. “That was magic, what we did?”
Gerard winced. “Frankie, I’m so sorry.”
Pete leaned in and touched his elbow. Frank flinched, but Pete didn’t move back. “Have you ever been homesick, Frankie?”
Frank rolled his eyes. “Can’t you just - does there have to be a story? Can’t you just tell me what the fuck is going on?”
Pete grinned. “There’s always a story Frankie. Answer the question.”
Frank nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been homesick,” Frank said, finally and tugged on Gerard’s sleeve. Gerard pulled him close and wound his arm around Frank’s waist. Frank felt safe there, like that.
“You know that sensation?” Pete continued, leaping up on to another of the tables. “The tug just behind your breast bone, pulling you, calling you?”
Frank nodded. He did know that. It had gone away a little when he was at Bob’s.
“You can feel it right now, can’t you?” Gerard put his hand in the center of Frank’s chest, and Frank closed his eyes.
“Yeah,” Frank sighed. “I, yeah...”
“Well, we all feel that,” Pete said, leaping from table to table. “Only, none of us can do shit about it.”
“None of us can go home,” Ray said and he exchanged a look with Mikey.
“Because you forgot who you are,” Mikey said.
“Because we all forgot,” Gerard corrected quickly. “And... you’re the last.”
Pete skipped over the backs of some chairs, down to the floor in front of Frank again. “Pan's is a halfway house for the lost, for what's left of us, trapped here, when we forgot.”
Frank’s heart sank. Pan’s was just some, some holding cell. “That’s ridiculous,” he hissed. “I’m not - Pan’s is amazing. It’s, it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“It is, Frankie, it is,” Gerard said, rubbing Frank’s shoulders. “But it's not supposed to be like this. It's a conduit, not a refugee camp. You need to remember so we can come and go as we please.”
Frank looked up at Gerard, he didn’t know what else to say. “But I’m no-one. I don't remember anything,” he hissed. “Besides, I’m happy how things are. I don’t want to go anywhere.”
Gerard chewed his lip. “You know one thing about enchantments, Frankie? It’s a bad sign when you’re happy.”
As if on cue a roar shook the building, setting the animals into a frenzy of cawing, and yowling and yapping and hissing.
“What the fuck was that?” Frank said, pulling away from Gerard and rushing to the café window.
“That?” said Pete, scowling. “Is the consequence of not playing by the rules.”
Mikey sighed and rubbed his eye. “And the rules were no magic, so now we're screwed because Gerard had to go sex magic you into seeing the wall between the worlds.” Mikey turned to Gerard. “Why can’t you keep it in your pants?”
Gerard held out his hands. “I didn’t... I couldn’t...” He put his hands on his hips and scowled. “He called to me, Mikes. Like, over and over. In his domain. How much longer could I go on like that? How?”
Frank turned away from that conversation and pressed his hands to the glass. He didn’t know how to process what Gerard was saying; that’d maybe, somehow he’d caused all this. Out the window, the proof was like a punch to Frank’s guts. They weren’t on Mornington Crescent anymore. Or maybe Mornington Cresent was gone? Frank didn’t know, but there were trees and a wild wood as far as he could see, which wasn’t far on account of the trees and wild wood pressing in against the goddamn glass.
“You said you’d tell me everything, Gee,” Frank said and Gerard, Mikey and Ray crowded around him to look out the window.
Pete landed on the window sill next to Frank. “To break the enchantment you had to do three things before midsummer's eve,” he said. “One was befriend a god.” Frank startled and looked up at him. Pete waved. “Hi! How are you?”
Frank shook his head. Fuck.
Mikey stood shoulder to shoulder with Frank. “The second was to find your familiar,” he said, glancing back into café. Peppers yapped.
“And the third, and perhaps most important...” Gerard said, stammering to a halt.
Frank looked up at him. Outside the window the trees shuddered. “What, Gee? What was the most important?” Frank asked.
“The third was to remember, unaided, who you were.”
The roar shook the glass in the window pane and made them all take a step back.
*
Frank was sitting in a chair with his head in his hands. “So can I go over this one more time? I’m, I’m thousands of years old, from another world and now, because my magical elf boyfriend sexed me up, I have to defeat a fucking Dragon.”
Suddenly the reason trauma victims and other disturbed people rock back and forth became achingly clear to him. Frank rocked a little harder. It was soothing.
“I can’t believe you didn't tell him about the dragon,” Mikey said not even looking at his brother. The taut line of his back spoke volumes.
“What was I supposed to say, Mikey? ‘You’re an ancient woodland spirit, the love of my life and potential saviour of the mystical world! Oh and by the way, you’re next in line to slay the mighty Golgorath!’ Because, to be honest, the opportunity never really came up.”
Mikey cold eyed Gerard. Gerard threw up his hands.
“I have to slay it?” Frank squeaked. “I’m - I’m a vegetarian, for fuck’s sake. I can’t slay anything!”
A roar shook the panels of the walls. Mikey sighed. “Frankie, think of it as self defense.”
“Oh my god,” Frank groaned.
After telling him he was going to face his worst nightmare, Pete had taken a few of the staff off to see to the defenses and to start helping the Faerie refugees, arriving in dribs and drabs.
It seemed that, with Frank still not able to remember, the wall between the worlds was crumbling, and not in a good, ‘welcome home!’ kind of way. If the wall fell, so did they all. Fae were coming to the café from all over the city. It was the safest place they knew.
“It’s almost Midsummer, Frank,” Pete had said. And Frank didn’t know what that meant, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t good.
Frank didn’t want to go outside and face whatever the hell that thing was. He didn’t want to be whatever the hell he was. He just wanted to go back to the part where he’d figured out that Gerard liked him, and he liked Gerard and there was finally kitchen-fu, and everything was awesome.
“Frankie?” Gerard was standing by the kitchen doors, his hand out towards him. Frank couldn’t seem to stop himself from rising and going to him. “You need to come with me,” Gerard said, taking his hand.
He led him to the storeroom, but Frank pulled back. “I- I don’t want...”
“It’s okay, Frankie,” Gerard said, opening the door. “It’ll be okay.”
It wasn’t the same room he’d left the night before. Or it was, only now there was so much more of it.
“Holy fuck,” Frank breathed. “It’s like the fucking TARDIS or some shit.”
Gerard laughed uneasily. “Sort of. I guess.”
The walls of the storeroom stretched away into dark recesses. Nearest Frank it was an ordinary pantry, with jars and cans and boxes of food, but the further away the shelves stretched, the more bizzarre the contents of them became. Tin cans gave way to steel lances, opaque jars to burnished breast plates. “This is our storeroom. Everything we ever need is here.”
“How?” Frank spun around. “Was this always here?” Frank asked. “How did I never see any of this before?” He picked up a small jeweled dagger which glinted and started to glow.
Gerard plucked it from Frank’s fingers, putting it gingerly back on the shelf. He cupped Frank’s face in his hands and smoothed his thumbs over his cheeks. “We don't see the things we don't want to see,” he said, and pressed a kiss to the corner of Frank’s mouth. “Now, take off your pants.”
*
Part One/ Part Two/ Part Three/ Part Five/ Masterpost