Las Vegas, baby. Eight.
Title: Las Vegas, baby. Eight.
Author : heathermouth aka slashxyouxup
Pairing: Frank Iero/Greg Sanders (CSI)
Rating: NC17
Summary: Two men. Two worlds. One city.
A/N: The story which follows the one shot, Las Vegas, baby.
Disclaimer: Writers lie - just like your parents
Warnings: Language. Sex. CSI stuff.
Prologue. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
Frank slept at the hospital that night, curled up on the chair with a pillow and blanket the very helpful nurse brought for him. It was cold in the hospital room; he always remembered the cold from being a child. He kept all clothes and jackets on as he tried to curl himself in to as tight a ball as possible. The chair was still pretty close to the bed, just off to the side of the window, close enough so Frank could watch Greg as he slept, watch his chest and lips move as he breathed softly. He bit his lip every time Greg coughed, winced or even moved.
Greg’s friend’s had left not long after Frank had arrived, which Frank was more than relieved about. He had enough to deal with, without the added pressure of putting on his best please the parents’ act (which he was never all that good at anyway).
A few minutes after sun rise one of Greg’s coughing fits woke both of them up, Greg trying his best to sit up and Frank running to his aid almost immediately. Frank propped the pillows behind Greg’s back and handed him a glass of water, chewing his lip and watching as Greg drank.
“You don’t have to look like I’m about to die,” Greg whispered, placing the glass on the side table.
Frank smiled weakly, “sorry.”
“And you don’t have to apologise for everything.”
“Right, sorry - I mean-”
Greg laughed, a grin spreading across his face that Frank had missed so much in his time away.
“You don’t have to stay here y’know,” Greg said, looking down at his hands.
Frank took one, squeezing it with his as he lifted it to his lips and gently kissed the bruised skin, “yeah, I do. You need me and I love you.”
“The band needs you-”
“You need me Greg.”
Greg looked up and smiled, peering at Frank through the bandages and bruises with gratitude and love. He tugged Frank closed, motioning for him to lean in. Frank smiled and did so, nuzzling against Greg’s cheek before kissing him softly and quickly, no where near what he was dying to do.
“I wish my face didn’t hurt so much,” Greg sighed.
Frank chuckled quietly and kissed his cheek before drawing back, “I know. Don’t worry though; we can make up for it later.”
“Promise?”
Frank drew an invisible cross over his heart, “I promise.”
-
Frank stood at the pay phones leaning against the wall and yawning as he listened to the endless ringing. Just before he was about to curse and hang up there came an answer.
“Hey Frank, how the hell are you?”
“Ray? Why are you answering Gerard’s phone?”
“He left it in the bathroom.”
“Again?” Frank laughed.
“Yeah. Anyway, how are you? How’s Greg?”
Frank began to play with the chord of the phone, “Okay I guess. Greg’s doin good.”
“He look pretty bad?”
“Yeah,” Frank sighed “but he’s getting there. How’s Cortez doin?”
“Great yeah, no problems. Well Gerard’s a little sad he’s got no one to rub up against, and Cortez really doesn’t seem to be warming up to the idea.” Frank grinned. “Look Frank, I really gotta go now, I only came back to the bus for my ipod.”
“Yeah sure, I’ll talk to you later; tell the guys I miss ‘em.”
“We miss you too. Stay out there as long as Greg needs you, and don’t worry about a thing.”
“Okay, later.”
-
Frank sat by the coffee machine, plastic cup in hand, and gazed down in to the dark liquid as his thumb traced the rim. Another day had passed and the weight of his conscience was starting to get him down. If he wasn’t worried about Greg as he watched doctors and nurses tend to the countless bruises and breaks along his body he was worrying about the guys, wondering how tour was going and if he was missing out on much. He knew he’d be of little use if he were there, calling the hospital every five minutes and not getting much sleep, being moody and unhelpful in most if not all interviews.
Dumping the coffee cup in to the trash Frank shoved his hands in to his pockets and continued back to Greg’s room. When he arrived on the corridor his heart leapt in to his mouth. Greg’s friends were there again, and by the looks on their faces Frank could tell it wasn’t good news.
“Hey, it’s Frank right?” A woman who he vaguely recognised approached him, landing her hand on his arm. Frank nodded. “I’m Catherine, I work with Greg. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Her smile was weak but genuine, and so Frank smiled back. “This is Nick, who you’ve met before, Warrick and Sera.”
Frank stood and shook each of their hands, mumbling his hellos and thank you’s to their greetings and nice to meet you’s.
The door to Greg’s room opened and Grissom stepped out. He leant against the frame, looking out at the rest with a saddened expression. Behind him Frank could see Greg stood by the window looking down at the car park below.
“Is everything okay?” Catherine asked to which the saddened expression disappeared, being replaced by blank seriousness.
“Demetrius James, the guy Greg hit, died about ten minutes ago.”
Frank felt his stomach knot and tears prick in the corner of his eyes, “Oh shit,” he mumbled before pushing past Grissom and walking quickly over to Greg who turned as he heard Frank enter. With the look on Greg’s face Frank wrapped his arms around him, burring his face in Greg’s neck and shushed softly, even though Greg was making no sounds.
After a few moments Greg let out a shaky breath, “I killed him Frank, I-I can’t believe it.”
“No you didn’t,” Frank whispered, sliding his fingers in to the strands of hair at the base of Greg’s skull.
“I did. He’s dead, he’s dead and it’s all my fault.”
With nothing left to say Frank pressed his lips to the side of Greg’s neck and held on tighter.
[A/N: Short, late, sucks - I know. Sorry?]
Author : heathermouth aka slashxyouxup
Pairing: Frank Iero/Greg Sanders (CSI)
Rating: NC17
Summary: Two men. Two worlds. One city.
A/N: The story which follows the one shot, Las Vegas, baby.
Disclaimer: Writers lie - just like your parents
Warnings: Language. Sex. CSI stuff.
Prologue. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
Frank slept at the hospital that night, curled up on the chair with a pillow and blanket the very helpful nurse brought for him. It was cold in the hospital room; he always remembered the cold from being a child. He kept all clothes and jackets on as he tried to curl himself in to as tight a ball as possible. The chair was still pretty close to the bed, just off to the side of the window, close enough so Frank could watch Greg as he slept, watch his chest and lips move as he breathed softly. He bit his lip every time Greg coughed, winced or even moved.
Greg’s friend’s had left not long after Frank had arrived, which Frank was more than relieved about. He had enough to deal with, without the added pressure of putting on his best please the parents’ act (which he was never all that good at anyway).
A few minutes after sun rise one of Greg’s coughing fits woke both of them up, Greg trying his best to sit up and Frank running to his aid almost immediately. Frank propped the pillows behind Greg’s back and handed him a glass of water, chewing his lip and watching as Greg drank.
“You don’t have to look like I’m about to die,” Greg whispered, placing the glass on the side table.
Frank smiled weakly, “sorry.”
“And you don’t have to apologise for everything.”
“Right, sorry - I mean-”
Greg laughed, a grin spreading across his face that Frank had missed so much in his time away.
“You don’t have to stay here y’know,” Greg said, looking down at his hands.
Frank took one, squeezing it with his as he lifted it to his lips and gently kissed the bruised skin, “yeah, I do. You need me and I love you.”
“The band needs you-”
“You need me Greg.”
Greg looked up and smiled, peering at Frank through the bandages and bruises with gratitude and love. He tugged Frank closed, motioning for him to lean in. Frank smiled and did so, nuzzling against Greg’s cheek before kissing him softly and quickly, no where near what he was dying to do.
“I wish my face didn’t hurt so much,” Greg sighed.
Frank chuckled quietly and kissed his cheek before drawing back, “I know. Don’t worry though; we can make up for it later.”
“Promise?”
Frank drew an invisible cross over his heart, “I promise.”
-
Frank stood at the pay phones leaning against the wall and yawning as he listened to the endless ringing. Just before he was about to curse and hang up there came an answer.
“Hey Frank, how the hell are you?”
“Ray? Why are you answering Gerard’s phone?”
“He left it in the bathroom.”
“Again?” Frank laughed.
“Yeah. Anyway, how are you? How’s Greg?”
Frank began to play with the chord of the phone, “Okay I guess. Greg’s doin good.”
“He look pretty bad?”
“Yeah,” Frank sighed “but he’s getting there. How’s Cortez doin?”
“Great yeah, no problems. Well Gerard’s a little sad he’s got no one to rub up against, and Cortez really doesn’t seem to be warming up to the idea.” Frank grinned. “Look Frank, I really gotta go now, I only came back to the bus for my ipod.”
“Yeah sure, I’ll talk to you later; tell the guys I miss ‘em.”
“We miss you too. Stay out there as long as Greg needs you, and don’t worry about a thing.”
“Okay, later.”
-
Frank sat by the coffee machine, plastic cup in hand, and gazed down in to the dark liquid as his thumb traced the rim. Another day had passed and the weight of his conscience was starting to get him down. If he wasn’t worried about Greg as he watched doctors and nurses tend to the countless bruises and breaks along his body he was worrying about the guys, wondering how tour was going and if he was missing out on much. He knew he’d be of little use if he were there, calling the hospital every five minutes and not getting much sleep, being moody and unhelpful in most if not all interviews.
Dumping the coffee cup in to the trash Frank shoved his hands in to his pockets and continued back to Greg’s room. When he arrived on the corridor his heart leapt in to his mouth. Greg’s friends were there again, and by the looks on their faces Frank could tell it wasn’t good news.
“Hey, it’s Frank right?” A woman who he vaguely recognised approached him, landing her hand on his arm. Frank nodded. “I’m Catherine, I work with Greg. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Her smile was weak but genuine, and so Frank smiled back. “This is Nick, who you’ve met before, Warrick and Sera.”
Frank stood and shook each of their hands, mumbling his hellos and thank you’s to their greetings and nice to meet you’s.
The door to Greg’s room opened and Grissom stepped out. He leant against the frame, looking out at the rest with a saddened expression. Behind him Frank could see Greg stood by the window looking down at the car park below.
“Is everything okay?” Catherine asked to which the saddened expression disappeared, being replaced by blank seriousness.
“Demetrius James, the guy Greg hit, died about ten minutes ago.”
Frank felt his stomach knot and tears prick in the corner of his eyes, “Oh shit,” he mumbled before pushing past Grissom and walking quickly over to Greg who turned as he heard Frank enter. With the look on Greg’s face Frank wrapped his arms around him, burring his face in Greg’s neck and shushed softly, even though Greg was making no sounds.
After a few moments Greg let out a shaky breath, “I killed him Frank, I-I can’t believe it.”
“No you didn’t,” Frank whispered, sliding his fingers in to the strands of hair at the base of Greg’s skull.
“I did. He’s dead, he’s dead and it’s all my fault.”
With nothing left to say Frank pressed his lips to the side of Greg’s neck and held on tighter.
[A/N: Short, late, sucks - I know. Sorry?]