Fic: Everyone Comes To Pan's Part Three
Everyone Comes To Pan's
Part Three
“You’re going.” Bob stood in the middle of Frank’s bedroom, hands on his hips, one eyebrow arched menacingly.
“I don’t wanna, I mean, it wasn’t really an invite, you know?” Frank sat on his bed, hand between his knees, trying not to look Bob in the eye. “Besides, like, the planters really need dusting, and I was going to soak the curtains...”
“‘You should come play with us some time, like tonight,’ is an invite, Frank. And I can dust my own goddamn planters, for Christ’s sake. You’re fucking going.”
Frank sighed. He never should have told Bob that Gerard kind of semi- maybe invited Frank to games night at Ray’s house.
Frank shrugged on his jacket and trudged out into the hall. Bob followed him and when he stopped in front of the door way, Bob reached around and pulled the front door open.
Frank trudged slowly out. On the door mat he turned around and looked up at Bob. “You’re not going to dust the planters at all are you?”
“Non,” Bob said, and shut the door in Frank’s face.
The El ride to Ray’s wasn’t far. Frank felt kind of dorky coming empty handed, but Gerard had been pretty emphatic about that. “Ray likes to play host, dude, just like, come as you are.”
So that’s what Frank was doing, standing on the porch outside the strange little cottage in Oak Park that Gerard’s directions had led him to, just arriving as is. He pulled at the hem of his tee shirt, and tried to pat down the fluffy tuft of hair at the back of his head that just refused to be tamed.
He knocked at the door.
The door flew open a few seconds later. “Eyebrows!” Ray cried. He had a beer in one hand, what looked like some kind of bearded dragon-lizard-thing draped over his shoulders, and grin on his face. “Awesome. Come in immediately and tell Way he’s wrong.”
Ray drew Frank by the elbow into the cozy little living room, crowded with his work mates, their freinds and a small menagerie of animals. Two cats, three dogs, including Raisin, a monkey and Ray’s huge fucking lizard. Frank suddenly missed Peppers a lot.
Mikey nodded at him, and shifted over so he could sit on the sofa too. He had a fat, grinning green-eyed cat in his lap, that licked it’s paw at Frank as soon as he sat down.
...
“This is Dewees,” Mikey said. The cat put out one paw and promptly dug it’s claws into paw from Frank’s knee. Mikey unhitched Dewees’ paw from Frank. “Say hello nicely.”
“Hello, Nicely,” Frank winced.
“I was talking to the cat,” Mikey said.
Brandon came into the room from what appeared to be the kitchen and handed Frank a beer.
Zach held out a bowl of chips to him. “Keenan made them. They’re really good,” he said. And behind him Keenan preened.
Gerard was kneeling by the coffee table, over which was spread a map of what looked a little like Chicago, if Chicago had been laid out by acid casualties and psychopaths. There were little hand painted figures on the map, and in front of Gerard was a screen made from open books.
“I rolled a six and a nine, and a sixteen,” Brandon said, kneeling next to the table and handing Gerard a coke. Brandon stroked his chin and surveyed the board. “I go to the bank and make a term deposit.”
Gerard squinted at a pile of notes behind the screen. “You go to the bank,” he said, looking at Brandon. “But bump into an old friend who tells you about a pyramid investment scheme he’s just started. You consider giving him all your money.”
“I do not,” Brandon said indignantly.
“Brandon. You do.”
Frank frowned and turned to Mikey. “Um, what the hell are you guys playing?”
Mikey dragged his eyes away from the board. “B&A,” he said. “I know, it’s kind of dorky, but Gee and I used to play it when we were growing up and, like, it’s kind of nostalgic fun. I guess.” He frowned and looked back at the board. “You never played.” He said, not a question, a statement. But he looked a little stricken when he said it.
“I’ve never heard of this game.” Frank said, and felt a little sorry about it when Mikey rubbed his eyes, and looked forlornly at Gerard.
“Yeah, I figured,” Mikey stood and went over the Gerard, saying something to him before going into the kitchen and rummaging around in the fridge.
Gerard smiled at Frank. “Hey!” he said. “Come sit over here with me and I’ll show you how to play.”
Frank went over and knelt next to Gerard. There was a big, fat book open in front of him, covered in notes and scrawls, and a stack of papers next to that covered in numbers and names Frank had never seen and lists of skills Frank thought were odd: Holds driver’s licence. Has traveled abroad. Multiple partners. Married. On the next sheet was listed Can cook, and Babies like you.
“You’ll have to go slow,” Frank said. “This is like totally weird to me.”
Gerard rewarded Frank’s naivete with one of his coy half smiles. “It’s cool. It’s just like riding a bicycle.”
Frank frowned. “Yeah, but--” Gerard put a hand on Frank’s arm and interrupted.
“I mean, what I mean is, it won’t take you long to catch up.”
Frank nodded and shifted closer to the table.
Brandon had the dice again. He rolled and Gerard gave him some directions, which sounded to Frank like the rules for having the world’s most boring office job. He frowned down at the book Gerard was reading from. ‘Basements and Attics’, the game was called. And suddenly Frank realised what it reminded him of.
“This is - this is like Dungeons and Dragons, only really shit!” Frank said, way louder than he’d intended.
Twelve pairs of eyes stared back at him. Mikey shook his head. Frank’s heart sank like a fucking stone.
Raisin yapped.
Nice one ass hat.
“Okay guys, let’s take a break for, um, more snacks!” Ray said, and the guys all stood and trooped into the kitchen, grumbling, followed by their pets. Frank winced.
“Smooth, Frankie,” Gerard said, and started shuffling through his pile of papers. Raisin licked his balls, and then lept up and tried to lick Frank’s face.
“Yargh!”
“Raisin, knock it off, go ask Ray for a chew.” Gerard said, not really looking up.
Frank was still trying to wipe all the dog-ball-scented dog spit off his arm, and didn’t notice Raisin trotting off into the kitchen at all.
“I’m sorry, man,” Frank said finally, picking at his nails and biting his lip. “I just - Why play a game about real life? Like, it’s so boring.”
Gerard sat back on his heels and gave Frank a pensive look. “Is it?”
Frank rolled his eyes. “Fuck yeah it is. I mean, I go to the bank, and I go shopping. But, like, I’ve never fought a Dragon, or, or cast a spell.”
Gerard smiled. “Like in Dungeons and Dragons?
“Exactly!” Frank said, and waved at the table. “Like what about the dragons? What about the mages and the half elves?”
“You think this real life is boring, Frankie?” Gerard looked thoughtful.
Frank nodded. “It’s fucking insanely dull. I mean, It was before I started working at Pan’s anyway. It fucking sucked. Getting fired, getting kicked out of my flat, begging for work from people I should have been punching in the ear. No money, no future. I mean. Most men lead lives of quiet desperation, right?”
Gerard laughed. “Right.”
“So why play that?” Frank rubbed his eye. Things were getting a little blurry. Maybe it was the beer. Gerard’s skin looked funny, kind of brazen, flowey almost. Frank shook his head.
Gerard smiled. “Why do you think we play it?”
Frank blinked. “This is what I’m asking you.”
Gerard leaned forward and whispered. “Don’t tell the other guys I told you, but in real life Dragons are lazy. It’s practically impossible to get one to fight you.”
Frank shook his head. He never got a straight answer from Gerard and apparently, he wasn’t going to get one now.
Gerard leaned back and waved his hand around airily. “Half elves are stuck up. I mean, hello, they’re immortal. You don’t want to hang out with those guys. Ditto Mages.”
“Gerard.” Mikey was standing by the table, a glass in one hand and a plate in the other. He had a face like thunder, but sometimes it was hard to tell with Mikey.
Gerard just smiled and shrugged one shoulder. “Game time, kids!” he chimed and turned back to the table. “Okay, Zach, it’s your roll, and before you ask, no, you may not use your own dice. I know you of old, sunshine.”
Frank, no less confused about why there even was a game time, sat back on his haunches and sipped his beer.
*
After coming home from the game night Frank hadn’t been able to sleep so well. He’d tossed and turned, feeling out of sorts in a way he never usually felt at home in his basement.
At first light he gave in and got up. He read for a while, fucked around on the internet and finally, when he could resist the urge no longer, snuck up the basement stairs into the kitchen.
Frank opened the cupboard and pulled out Bob’s breakfast bowl and mug, and nearly threw both in the air when Bob, sitting at the kitchen table said, “Dude, this has got to stop.”
“Jesus, Bob!” Frank wheezed, clutching his chest, the mug hanging from one finger.
“I mean it,” Bob said, sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, arms folded across his chest. “You are not my, my you know. You’re not. So, knock this shit off.”
Frank was speechless. “Bob,” he began, swallowing. “I don’t. I’m not, like. Crushing on you or anything.” Frank’s face got hot and he winced even saying the word crushing out loud.
“Jesus Christ Iero,” Bob said, rolling his eyes. “I fucking know that much.”
“Okay, God, good,” Frank said, chest heaving in relief. “I’m just, I’m not. I’m not doing anything,” he finished, pathetically, looking down at the bowl and cup in his hands and placing them on the counter.
Peppers trotted into the room and sat looking up at Frank.
"You know, she's really your dog," Bob said.
“How can you say that?” Frank’s stomach sank. “Peppers is, she’s your girl.”
Bob raised his eyebrows at Frank, and Frank looked down at Peppers.
Love Frank. Frank love Peppers. Love Frank. Love Frank. Frank play?
“Bob, man...”
“It’s okay. Just, stop making my fucking breakfast and take your dog for a walk.”
He stood up and left and room, and few minutes later Frank could hear the sounds of Call of Duty revving up in the living room. Peppers’ tail thumped on the floor.
“Okay, kid,” he said. “Who’s your daddy?”
Peppers sprang up onto her hind feet, dancing about and yapping.
Frank!
Frank crouched down. “Well, alright then,” he said, scooping her up and heading out into the hall.
He put her little jacket on her, clipped her lead to it and headed out to walk.
They ended up walking a lot further and longer than Frank had expected to, and by the time he turned them around for home, Frank realised he was going to be late.
If Gerard was allowed his dog in the café, and Ray his bearded dragon and Mikey his cat, then Frank didn’t see why a little peach like Peppers couldn’t come too. They hopped the nearest El and headed for Oak Park.
I want to get off the train and chase birds
Frank looked around for who spoke and noticed at the woman sitting across the aisle smiling at him.
“Well, It’s nice weather for it?” he said to her. Man, city people were kind of fucked up.
Frank went back to his own thoughts. Simplest explanation for Bob’s behavior was that he was just not cool with Frank doing everything round the house, and that was fine. Probably it wasn’t normal to want to iron your room mate’s underwear. Frank snuggled Peppers up in his arms. What the hell was he thinking. Of course it wasn’t normal to want to iron your room mate’s fucking shorts. Jesus.
I love snuggles! I’d snuggle all day if I could.
Frank determinedly did not look at the lady across the aisle this time, sheesh. The train pulled up at Oak Park. Frank let Peppers down an stood up. The lady gave him a half smile as he walked past to the doors. Frank half smiled back. “Thanks for the TMI, Lady,” he muttered under his breath, and hopped off the train.
*
Peppers disappeared between the tables as soon as they arrived at Pan’s and a gaggle of rabbits, dogs, geese (!), mice and monkeys ambled after her. As Frank watched them all sniffing, licking and grooming each other it occurred to him how great it was there were never any fights. He guessed Pan’s pets were happy pets. Peppers looked happy, playing with Raisin and Dewees, so Frank left her too it and got to work.
In the kitchen Frank got stuck into a pile of courgettes and red peppers getting ready for the lunch time rush. The radio was playing lightly in the background, something he’d never heard before that sounded like a crazy cross between Thelonius Monk and Ke$ha.
“Saturjazzzzzz,” Keenan hissed at him over the prep table, and started juggling his paring knives.
Frank laughed, but the rhythm of the jazz seeped into his chopping and soon he found himself zoning out and humming along. He reached past Zach for another pepper, just as Zach passed Adam a courgette, the three of them working in synch, like some kind of veggie juggling act of their own. Frank threw a pepper up in the air and sliced it into little pieces on it’s way down. Awesome! He didn’t even know he could do that. Some of Keenan’s frankly freaky looking chopping tricks must be rubbing off on Frank.
When the song finished, Frank looked up and discovered he’d chopped twice as much as he thought and the lunch prep was done and dusted. He stood back from the prep table, hands on his hips and smiled. His kitchen-fu was really, truly back.
“That is some impressive cuttin’, Frankie, ” Gerard said, cocking his hip against the prep tables and he small pile of empty red pepper boxes.
Frank grinned. He was even getting used to Gerard’s habit of sneaking up on people. This was a good day.
“There’s someone in the café asking after you” Gerard said. “Figured it was okay to get you since Peppers said he was okay.”
Frank’s eyebrows went up and Gerard cleared his throat. “I mean, you know, she was yapping and jumping up on him, so I figured you knew him.”
“Huh,” said Frank.
“So yeah, anyway, there’s a guy,” Gerard gestured over his shoulder, and then studied the pile of empty red pepper boxes closely, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.
“Thanks,” Frank said, taking off his apron and heading out into the café. He glanced back at Gerard just as he went out the door, and saw Keenan patting him on the shoulder and Gerard shaking his head. Frank skipped out to the café, kind of glad thinking that Gerard might be bummed a dude that Peppers knew had come in asking for Frank and what that might mean.
He pushed open the café doors and was met with a stony silence. Which was totally creepy and weird considering every table was full.
And staring at a big blond guy standing near the door, clutching a jacket to his chest, scanning the room from under his brows.
“Bob!” Frank cried and set off, winding his way through the café towards his friend. The noise level started to creep back up again as the customers went back to their lunches and their conversations. But Frank could feel their eyes following him as he passed. He guessed it was odd to see a stranger at the café. Pan’s kind of thrived on regulars.
Brandon grabbed Frank’s elbow as he passed. “Who is that guy?” He asked, voice low and eyes wide. “He said he had your jacket.”
Frank smiled at him. “He’s my roommate,” Frank said. “Guess he figured I needed it.” Frank shrugged, and tried to sidle past Brandon.
Brandon grabbed his arm again. “Are you sure, Frankie?” Brandon said, and bit his lip.
Frank glanced at Bob who was in the middle of what looked like a staring contest with Ray’s bearded dragon, which was sitting in the top branches of a big, old fashioned hat stand. It’s yellow tongue darted in Bob’s direction. Bob took the smallest step back.
“Um, pretty sure, dude,” Frank said. He slapped Brandon on the shoulder and moved past him towards Bob.
“Hey!” he said cheerily, remembering how out of sorts Bob had been that morning. “You found us! Come to check out our kitchens?”
Bob’s eyes went wider. “Nope,” he said, his eyes cutting left to the kitchen doors swinging open and shut as waiters came and went.
“Well, you want lunch?” Frank gestured at a table over to one side that had just come free.
Bob’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. “Eat here? No,” he said, shaking his head.
Then he took a deep breath, visibly fought to relax his shoulders and smiled at Frank. “I already ate. I just,” he began again, taking another deep breath and glancing around the room before fixing Frank with a level stare. “I brought you a jacket. You’ll need it before coming back to the flat tonight.”
The room went strangely silent again. Frank looked over his shoulder at a table full of people all staring at him. He raised his eyebrows at them and reached out to take the jacket. Weirdos.
Bob let out a long breath and smiled at Frank.
Frank held up the jacket. “Oh, hey!” He said. “This, this isn’t mine.” The thing seemed a little too big for Frank, but way too small to be Bob’s. Frank shrugged it on anyway. It fit him fine.
“Thanks Bob!” Frank said. And actually the jacket felt good on his shoulders; light and comfy. Frank grinned. “I don’t know where it came from, but I’m not gonna look a fashionable gift horse in the mouth.”
Bob grinned, and Frank felt like he’d relaxed in some way. “You’re always welcome in my house, Frankie,” he said.
Frank frowned. “Um, I should fucking hope so. I pay half the rent.”
“Of course,” Bob said, pointing a finger at Frank. “That’s what I meant.”
“Hey, man, I gotta,” Frank gestured over his shoulder at the kitchen. “Lunch rush is about to kick off, you know how it is.”
“Sure,” Bob said. “Hey, you want me to take Peppers home for you?”
“Nah,” Frank said, scanning the room until he found her. She was asleep in a little puppy pile, curled around the Angry Raisin, with Mikey’s big fluffy, tortoise shell cat wrapped around them both. “I think she’s fine where she is. Oh, hey, don’t like, mention the animals to anyone, okay?”
Bob’s eyes were getting wide again. “Uh, okay.”
“Yeah,” said Frank, picking up the bearded dragon which was making a lunge for Bob, and slinging it over his shoulder. “I don’t know how Pan gets away with it, but the customers seem to love it.” He shrugged. “Catch you later man.”
And Frank turned and went back to the kitchens to get the grill hot and ready for lunch.
*
“Nice Jacket, Frankie,” Mikey said.
They were hiding out in the storeroom. Ray was having one of his manic, ‘A Man Obsessed’, moments and Frank had learned it was best to get the hell out of his way, unless he wanted an accidental ladle to the face, or a lecture on how to correctly scrub under one’s nails.
“Bob gave it to me,” Frank said, reaching up from one of the top rungs to put a case of sardines away.
Frank clambered down the ladder and grabbed another case.
Finally Mikey said, “Dude, that's mega.”
Frank looked over his shoulder. “It's just a jacket, not an engagement ring. Come on.”
Mikey picked up another box of sardines and brought it to Frank. He sighed.
“I thought this would be easier. But it’s just, it’s getting harder” Mikey said, frowning ever so slightly.
Frank bit his lip. God, was Mikey talking about the job? Frank thought he was doing so well at Pan’s. “You, like, you think I’m screwing up?”
“What?” Mikey said, shaking away whatever he’d been thinking to focus on Frank. “No, I think, I just think you should, you know, open you eyes to the - the possibilities, Frank.”
Frank was really confused. What the hell possibilities did Mikey mean exactly? The sardines were in the right place, and what’s more, Frank was in the right place. The triumphant return of his kitchen-fu had made that clear earlier.
“You know,” Mikey said emphatically. “Stop,” he waved his hands about a little. “Repressing.”
Oh. “I’m not repressing anything,” he said, jumping down from the ladder and grabbing Mikey’s hands and squeezing them before stepping back and holding out his arms. “I’m not into Bob. Honestly. This jacket is not a big deal.”
Mikey peered at him over the rim of his glasses.
Frank smiled. “And before you ask, yes, I am totally out. You can tell anyone. I’m queer. I’m here. I couldn’t give a fuck about it."
Mikey closed his eyes slowly and pressed his fingers up under the lenses. “That’s - that’s great,” he said, and wandered back to the wall for another round of listless leaning.
*
Frank decided to stay in the store room for the rest of the day after Mikey finally went back to work. Ray’d come get him if they needed him on prep.
At some point in the afternoon he uncovered a box of seasonal decorations stuffed at the back of the biggest set of shelves. Only, they weren’t for any seasonal holidays Frank had ever celebrated before.
“What the hell is Lammastide?” Frank said to himself as he unfurled a banner with the word painted on it in big, corn-yellow letters. He wondered if Gerard knew. He wondered where Gerard was, he hadn’t seen him much today. Frank started pulling the banners out and unfurling them; Ostara, Mabon, Yule. The Lammastide one was the biggest and had pictures of pumpkins and wheat and apples all over it. It was pretty well done.
“It’s the Harvest festival. For baking bread,” Gerard said, sending Frank about a foot in the air. He hadn’t even heard the store room door open. He was getting better at coping with Gerard’s sneaky ways, but every now and then, he caught Frank a good one.
“Jesus!”
“Sorry, Frankie,” he said, and sounded anything but sorry. A smile twitched the corner of his mouth. “I shouldn’t come in here without asking your permission.”
Frank took a few deep breaths and let his heart slow back down to normal again. “You, you’re like, you always have my permission, but like,” He took a deep breath and shook himself. “Maybe you should wear a bell, like Mikey’s cat?”
Gerard laughed. “On a little collar? I don’t know about that.”
Frank felt his face flush, and the started futzing with the banners trying to get them straight so he could roll them all up together.
Gerard, ran the banner from Frank’s hand through his fingers. “Lammastide isn’t for a couple of months,” he said, letting the banners drop and bending down and rifling through the box. He came up with a dark blue banner with red flaming letters on it. “Beltane is next,” he said.
He was standing really close, Frank was only just realizing. He felt the ghost of Gerard’s breath on his cheek. “You know what Beltane’s all about, Frankie?”
Frank didn’t know, but the word kind of made him feel uncomfortable. He took a step back, rolled the banners and put them back in the box. He didn’t know what to do with his hands suddenly, so he picked up a can of beets and fidgeted with it. “That, that more of the Gaelic your granny taught you?” He said, without really looking at Gerard.
Gerard chuffed a laugh and moved closer to Frank again. “Nah, it was part of a seasonal food thing,” Gerard said eventually, gesturing to the box of decorations. “Pan came up with it. You know, vegan, only serving food that was in season. We, um, we still do, sometimes.”
He stepped closer again and took the can out of Frank’s hand. He shook it a little. “But, like, everyone loves beets though, right?”
Frank looked up. Gerard was so close, his eyes were so golden and he smelled like... like something good from Frank’s childhood; something really good. Like the sharp tang of mint, the blossom of a honey apple tree, and something else, something... smokey.
He leaned forward.
“Frankie,” Gerard breathed.
The storeroom door flew open and light flooded the room. “Oh my god! Guys! You better get out here!” Zach stood in the doorway flapping a hand at them to follow him. “Raisin is shagging the little tea cup Chihuahua!”
“What the fuck?” Frank pushed past Gerard and Zach and made for the café.
On the little rug in front of the fire place the Angry Raisin was leaping around in circles trying desperately to get behind Peppers, who, much to Frank’s relief, was having none of it.
Every time Raisin got behind her, Peppers would leap away and round on him, dropping into play position and wagging her tail furiously.
“Dude, your dog is molesting my dog,” Frank wailed. He knelt and whistled for Peppers, who ran a little way towards Frank and then stopped still, waging her tail and - Oh dear God - backed up to Raisin and wriggled at him.
“Now Frank, we have a no slut shaming policy in this work place,” Brandon said with mock solemnity. “Pan’s is a sex positive working environment.”
“Amen to that,” Zach said, and he winked at Keenan who went bright red and dropped his cleaver.
“I’m not slut shaming my goddamn dog, Bran’,” Frank said, giving up on calling her and just grabbing Peppers up out of Raisin’s lascivious reach.
“You want ten million puppies around this place? C’mon, Peppers, didn’t your mama ever teach you to play hard to get?” Frank scritched her ears and tried to stop her yapping at Raisin.
This is true love. True love! I am his, and he is mine, for all eternity!
“Thanks a lot, Zee,” Frank said. He was impressed inspite of himself that Zach did such a good impression of a female Chuchu.
“Dude,” Zach said. “I’m no biologist, but I think that’s called bolting the gate after the horse has been knocked up.”
“Zach, shut up,” Gerard said. He put his hand on Frank’s shoulder and squeezed, and suddenly Frank remembered Gerard’s scent, and the storeroom, and the fact that Gerard had called him ‘Frankie’ and almost kissed him not a minute ago.
“Oh my God, can you imagine what the puppies will look like?!” Zach cackled, ignoring him completely.
“Shut the fuck up, Zach,” Gerard snapped. But he wasn’t looking at Zach, he was staring at Raisin. And Frank wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn Raisin winked.
*
It was the first time Frank had been pleased to leave Pan’s at the end of his shift. And to be honest, he wasn’t really that pleased, although he was glad he wouldn’t have to put up with anymore puppy-mama jokes from Zach and Keenan for a few hours, anyway.
Gerard had left early, taking Raisin with him. And the sparkle had kind of gone out of the evening after that.
Not even Adam super-gluing all the wooden spoons together and watching Mikey try to calm Ray down as he ranted and raved over them could cheer Frank up.
He’d spent most of the rest of his shift in the storeroom, with Peppers curled in one of the empty boxes, while he dusted and stacked and ordered things.
The café had been closed up when he’d finally left. Only a couple lights were still on, the one in Ray’s office, and the one over the prep table.
He’d turned that one off and headed out with Peppers in tow, locking the front door behind him.
Frank was halfway to the El when he realized he’d left his new jacket back at Pan’s. The weather must really be turning, because he hadn’t even noticed; it’d been so warm when he left the café. But it was new, and a gift from Bob, and he didn’t want to go back to the house without it.
They turned back, and Frank left Peppers tied up to the gate as he clambered over the fence to the back door he knew was still open. Ray’s light was still on.
“I’ll be right back, babycakes,” he said, scruffing her head through the chicken wire, and Peppers licked his hand.
He’d thought Ray was still working, but when he snuck into the kitchen - with every intention of scaring the shit out of him in his office, Brandon would be so proud - the light above the veggie prep area was back on. And although he couldn’t really see anyone in the gloom, he heard pots knocking together, and what sounded, vaguely, like feet slipping on linoleum.
Moving around the prep station, behind the patisserie station, Frank could see two figures, shadowed, moving in the half light.
He could tell immediately that one was Ray - the head chef didn't let his impressive mane out all that often in the kitchens, but when he did, it was hard to miss.
What was also hard to miss was that Ray was shirtless. And grappling with someone, pushing their arms out behing them, looming over them.
Frank paused and ducked down behind the prep bench. That someone was also shirtless.
That someone was also Mikey.
And they weren’t grappling.
The sound of the gasps and rasping breath hit Frank then. He was watching his friends fuck. He slapped one hand over his eyes. Oh god. Frank had to get out of there and fast. He shouldn't be... well, not that they should be, in the frikken kitchen, but still. Frank didn't want to intrude, and he sure as shit didn’t want them to know he’d seen them.
Mikey was his friend, and Ray was his, his, well, supervisor, he guessed, and in the weeks he’d been working with them he’d never once had an inkling that they were anything more than work mates. So either this was new, or they’d been keeping it real secret. Whatever the case, Frank had to get the fuck out.
“You can feel it, can’t you?” Ray was saying, his forehead pressed to Mikey’s. “It’s nearly here. It’s so, so fucking hot.”
“God, yeah,” Mikey breathed. “Oh - oh, Ray.”
Frank yanked his hand away from his eyes and clamped two hands over his ears. He could not, could not, hear his friends’ dirty talk. < i>For the love of God. He started to crab walk back the way he came, but had to let go of his ears and balance himself or risk falling on his ass.
He edged round the back of the prep station and had the doors in sight when the sound of something clipping and clopping hollowly on the concrete floor made him glance back - and stopped him in his tracks.
Frank could see both of them now, Ray pressed against Mikey, between the stations. Mikey was naked, his legs up around Ray’s waist. And he was glowing. Not the kind of ‘glowing’ you read about in romance novels, but actual fucking light was coming from him. His skin, silver and white in the muted light seemed to ripple and shimmer, like fish scales only lit up, from within, like nothing Frank had ever seen before. He blinked. Was that body paint? Without thinking Frank edged a little closer.
Ray leaned over Mikey, one hand at his waist and the other gripping Mikey's wrist, his face buried in Mikey's neck. Mikey arched and bit his bottom lip, pulling his legs up higher around Ray's waist, hooking his ankles together. His muscles flexed and Ray hoisted Mikey up, pulling him back down to meet his hips. Mikey moaned.
"Fuck," Ray whined as his hips kicked forward. And he stomped. His cloven. Hoof.
Frank jammed a fist in his mouth to stop himself from shouting. Because Ray had hooves. Where his feet should be. And haunches, and a tail: short, furry and flicking wildly back and forth. In fact there was hair all over his legs, and - and...
The words 'goat boy' flitted into Frank's mind and he had to fight to hold back the panicked giggle welling up in his chest. Ray was mother fucking goat boy; he had fucking horns and everything. And Mikey, God, Mikey was - what the hell was Mikey? As Frank watched, Mikey dragged his shimmering leg up and down through Ray’s fur and purred.
Jesus christ. Frank's skin was burning; his head swimming.
What the fuck was he seeing? He crawled forward. This wasn't fucking... fucking cosplay. They were actual fucking hooves, and Mikey had actual fucking scales and he was glowing. Glowing and rising up from the counter Ray had him sprawled over, as Ray buried his, his fucking, goat cock in Mikey's body. Again and again. God.
Mikey kept rising, rising along with the sound of Ray grunting in time with every thrust of his hairy hips and the wet sound of his cock pushing into Mikey.
Mikey was silent now, teeth clamped down hard on his lip. The light from his body kept rising in intensity too as Mikey writhed, his hips kicking, his muscles tightening and releasing with each thrust.
And Frank was aware of the sound of Ray's hooves scrabbling at the floor as he was lifted too, the dark, shiny tips kicking at the concrete as he rose, buried so deep in Mikey, buoyed up by him, it seemed.
Then they were both hovering a few inches above the counter and the floor, and the light from Mikey’s body began to pulse and sharpen, and grow and grow. And Mikey was calling to Ray, calling his name over and over as if he was in pain. Only Ray wasn't hurting him. It wasn't pain.
Frank stood up then, was dragged up and forwards towards them. Gerard he thought, crazily, desperately. Gerard. His heart was racing; his breath came in rasped, frantic gasps; his fists were clenched tight. And as the light from Mikey’s body touched him, Frank realised he could feel it, feel what Mikey felt. Oh, God.
And then Mikey called out, his head thrown back as Ray drove into him, harder and deeper, and there was a blinding flash which Frank felt in every cell of his body.
And then there was nothing.
*
“Is he breathing?”
Ow
“What do you mean ‘Is he breathing’?”
Frank’s teeth hurt.
“I mean is air going in and out of him, what the fuck do you think I mean?”
His face hurt, kind of, too.
“Yes, dickhead, he’s breathing.”
He couldn’t see, but much to his relief, that was only because he couldn’t open his eyes. He could hear though, if the muffled-sounding voices going to and fro over him was anything to go by. So that was good.
“We shouldn’t move him.”
Gerard. Frank knew that voice. It was Gee. Where the fuck was he? What the hell... oh... Oh.
“I didn’t hit him with my car, Gee.”
There was silence then, which Frank imagined contained some loud eyebrow shouting between Gerard and the second voice - Mikey.
Frank wiggled his toes in his sneakers, they seemed to be fine. But he was just going to lie here and hopefully hear something that would make sense of whatever the fuck he’d seen.
“Well, if you hit him with the same thing you hit me with, baby, he’s gonna be out for a couple more minutes at least.”
Ray, thought Frank.
"This is him?” Ray said. “The last one?”
“the last one,” Mikey said quietly, and Frank felt someone’s hand brush his hair back from his face gently.
“Christ!” Gee again, sounding exasperated, or frustrated maybe. “This is exactly the kind of screw up we do not need. If he can’t remember on his own then we’re all fucked. No magic, Mikey. Remember? That was the deal.”
“That’s rich, coming from you, Mister ‘Dragons Are Really Lazy.’ Also, could you be any more obvious?”
Gerard made an annoyed sound.
“He knows one thing, you’ve still got a massive boner for him,” Mikey said.
Frank sucked in a gasp, just a tiny one and he felt like he caught it in time.
“Um, guys?”
Frank’s skin went icy. How was he the last? What was he supposed to remember? How were they fucked? Magic? Boner? He tried to calm down a little. The boner thing was pretty interesting, though.
“I think he’s awake,” said Ray.
“Frank?” Mikey said, and Frank felt a hand slide under his neck and squeeze him gently. “Frankie?”
Frank sat up slowly with Mikey supporting his head.
“Where am I?”
Mikey’s face swam into view. He was holding Peppers who yapped as soon as Frank opened his eyes.
Frank! Frank you’re awake! Love you so much Frank! I was so worried! Want to lick you better, want to heal you Frank!
“Hey baby girl,” he groaned, touching his head gingerly, and then reaching out for Peppers. Mikey handed her over. His face was pretty grim for Mikey, who was usually much harder to read. “Mikes,” Frank said.
“You okay?” Gerard said, crouching down and reaching out to stroke Peppers. His fingers ran lightly over Frank’s and Frank shivered.
“I-I’m fine,” Frank said, and started to push himself up.
“Don’t stand up too quickly,” Ray said. Frank looked at Ray’s legs. They just looked like legs, the ordinary, non-goat kind. Frank blinked a and looked up in time to see Gerard and Mikey exchanging dark looks.
“I’m fine,” Frank said again and stood. He leaned heavily on the counter behind him and his head swam a little. “I have to go.”
“I’ll give you a lift,” Gerard said.
“No! No, thanks,” Frank said frantically. “I’ll get a cab. Okay. I’m...” He pushed himself away and through the front doors to the street, ignoring the sound of the guys calling to him.
His head was still swimming by the time he made it to the end of the block. Feeling dizzy, he sat in the gutter and put his head between his knees. Peppers curled up next to him, whimpering.
“Okay, honey. Gimme a second and we’ll get a -”
Frank looked up and Gerard’s little green Mini was stopped in front of him, the passenger door wide open.
“I said I’d give you a lift,” Gerard said, leaning over the passenger seat and pushing the door open a little wider.
Before he could stop her, Peppers had jumped up and trotted over the the car and into the tiny back seat. Frank sighed. Traitor he thought, and got up to get in the car.
*
Gerard had been pretty silent for most of the ride, and Frank was kind of grateful. He had no idea what he’d say anyway, ‘So, I thought I saw your brother getting nailed by the head chef, who is also a goat boy. What’s that all about?’
Frank shook his head, he was just not equipped for that conversation.
He realized Gerard was looking at him a few seconds later.
“So, what happened back there?” Gerard said, glancing in his rear view mirror at the two dogs sitting up in the back seat. Raisin, Frank noted, was being a bit more of a gentleman now. Peppers was watching Frank intently, with her big dark eyes.
“Blood sugar,” Frank said, lying a little more easily than he usually could. “Low, yeah, blood and whatnot.” He turned a little in his seat and stared out the window. “It happens sometimes.”
Gerard hmmmed. “You’re feeling okay now?”
“Sure,” Frank said. He had this overwhelming desire to just turn to Gerard and tell him what he saw, but he couldn’t. He didn’t have the words.
They pulled up a few minutes later in front of Frank’s house. The lights were on and Frank was pleased Bob would be there. He needed some normal right now.
“You gonna be okay?” Gerard said, hand tight on the steering wheel.
Frank turned in his seat and reached for Peppers. Raisin was licking her ear and her little eyes were all closed and blissful. Frank stopped and looked back at Gerard.
Their eyes met and Frank felt fixed there, under Gerard’s stare. He heard his breath rasping, felt the heave and pull of the air his chest.
“I’ll be fine,” Frank said after a few seconds and pushed open the car door. He called Peppers and she leaped out of the car. Frank scooped her up and without looking back, he rushed inside.
He raced through the door and then walked to the window, watching Gerard sitting in the car, not leaving, staring up at the house.
Eventually Gerard started the mini and pulled away. Frank felt cold panic, suddenly. He threw open the front door and ran out onto the porch. The tail lights of Gerard’s car disappearing round the corner did nothing to quell the feeling he’d made a terrible mistake.
*
The red haired man walked towards him across the park. His pale, brazen skin was shining in the moon light, and the breeze lifted his hair, blowing the scarlet bangs into his eyes.
“Hello Frankie,” he said, and it sounded like a whisper straight into Frank’s ear, although the man was still so far away.
The closer he got to Frank the further away he seemed and Frank started to get agitated. “Come here!” Frank shouted, but it came out garbled and wrong.
He kept walking forward with that steady swaying gait, at once infuriating and mesmerising. Frank tried moving towards him, but he just got further away.
To Frank's horror the man stopped, raised his hand, and started to turn away.
Frank ran then, scrabbling through the long grass and grabbing weeds and clinging vines - why were there vines? And wet sand sucking at his shoes, and hands reaching up from the dirt, dragging him down. And all the time the man was getting further and further away.
"No!" Frank sat bolt upright in bed in his own room, the clock telling him it was time to get up even though the pitch dark basement always felt like the middle of the night.
The pillow behind him was soaked; so were his sheets. But he knew who he'd been dreaming about for what seemed like forever. He knew who the red haired man was.
Frank dragged himself out of bed, pulling the sodden sheets off after him, and got ready to head to Pan’s.
*
The mountain of unchopped mushrooms stared at Frank, and he stared back at it. He didn't even know where to start. He picked up his chopping knife and started slicing slowly.
Zach had already finished with the red peppers and was moving on to green beans. Frank glanced at him and noticed the way every movement of Zach's hands had a rainbow sparkle lightshow behind it. Frank blinked and Zach's hands went back to normal. He glanced away and back, and the rainbow sparkle returned.
Frank's own hands didn't seem to know which was left and which right today. The mushroom he was slicing crumbled into little pieces and Frank gave up.
He turned to Keenan, who seemed to be throwing glitter on the grill from a little pouch at his hip which sparked and burned with vermilion and magenta flames. Frank sighed. How had he never seen this stuff before?
There was Ray over by the fridges, his little horns plain to see, talking to his beared dragon. There was Ray's bearded dragon, talking back.
Adam floated, literally, into the kitchen to pick up and order.
And Mikey? Mikey was watching Frank from across the room, the light glinting off his delicate scales and opalescent skin.
Frank plastered a smile on his face and concentrated on the mushrooms. This wasn't happening. He was having a psychotic breakdown. That was it. A mild, totally alarming, but in no way outside his own head, psychotic breakdown. And all he had to do was ignore it all and he'd be fine.
When the doors to the café opened next, Frank felt a prickling all the way up his spine, like fingers trailing over his skin. His heart kicked in his chest and he turned. Gerard.
He was standing by the grill, his tray held up high, a copper bright smile on his burnished face. Colors flowed over him, green and red and white and pale, pale lilac, and his hair was flame red. Brighter than Frank had ever seen it. He lowered the tray, holding it out for the plates Keenan had prepared, and tiny, dimond white stars flowed from the movement of his arm. When he turned slowly towards Frank, billowing rills of stars flowed off his skin. Their eyes locked.
"Frankie," Brandon hissed and sidled up to him. Frank turned to Brandon, and when he glanced back, Gerard was gone.
"It's time for a little prankie!" Brandon said. His skin looked like leaves, papery and thinly veined. The ink on his arms was moving. He showed Frank a realistic looking rubber chicken. Frank nodded and kept on slicing mushrooms, as well as the odd finger.
"Dude, seriously, this thing is magic! You put it in the oven and it starts shooting fire!" Brandon said with hushed urgency. "I double quadruple triple dare you to swap it out for one of Ray's roosters. Go for gold!"
"I got a lot of work to do, Bran, ah Brandon." Frank cut a glance left at Brandon's beetle brown eyes. He tried not to flinch.
"You do, huh?" Brandon said, looking deflated. He shrugged. "I guess I'll see if Zach's keen."
Frank nodded and tried not to wince too visibly when he narrowly missed chopping the end off his finger. Luckily he wasn't bleeding, but he scooped up what he'd been chopping and binned it anyway. This was total bullshit. He couldn't concentrate. He didn't know what the fuck was going on. He brought the knife down hard on a fresh mushroom and sliced deeply into the palm of his hand.
"Motherfucker!" Frank shouted and clamped down on the welling blood.
"You okay, Eyebrows?" Keenan said, clip clopping on his little flame red hooves over to Frank. Jesus.
"I'm fucking fine," Frank hissed. "And my name is Frank, not Eyebrows, not Littlie, not, not fucking Frankie. Just..."
He barged past Keenan, into the sanctuary of his store room.
*
He'd retrieved the first aid kit from a box of dried newts, of all things, the first week he'd been in the storeroom. Newts. And he hadn’t bothered to ask... never mind. He was pretty glad he'd stored the kit in a more obvious place since then.
His hand wasn't bleeding too badly, but it hurt like a bitch. He wound a little gauze around it, tied it off, and slumped down onto a pile of boxes he'd yet to tackle.
God, what was going on? Why had he even come in today. He felt sick about it. He also felt incredibly sick about leaving Peppers at home. It was like he couldn't do this day right.
He looked down at the boxes beneath him. He'd have to go out an apologize to Keenan eventually. It wasn't his fault. Frank was the one who’d been dreaming about Gerard for months before he’d even met him. Frank was they were waiting for, whatever the hell that meant.
Frank wanted to do something physical and brainless. He stood up and opened one of the boxes. More boxes. Okay. This, Frank could deal with, that was for fucking sure.
*
Part One/ Part Two/ Part Four/ Part Five/ Masterpost