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Frank has been running for hours, but he can't let himself stop.
He can still hear the hoofbeats of the horse and its rider behind him, tracking him with seeming ease even as he weaves deeper into the woods. His inability to lose him is the clearest indication of his fatigue; at full strength he should be able to carve a path no hunter could follow him down, especially at night.
He stumbles on the roots of a tree, regaining his footing fast but it's adding up, the gap between them shrinking steadily. Fear is coursing through his veins, adrenaline pushing him forward, but daybreak is also chasing him. He must somehow escape this threat now, or he has no chance at all.
The forest begins to thin out as he races through it, and he has a fleeting moment of panic about how much easier it will be to see him when there's a loud bang from behind him. A second later he feels the sharp, tearing pain through his hind leg. He howls in agony but forces himself to keep going, his movements erratic and desperate.
He bursts through the edge of the forest and finds himself in a large clearing, the worst possible place for him. He stumbles forward and finally collapses, flanks heaving with effort as he pants through the pain. It's radiating down his leg and up through his torso, and he closes his eyes and whimpers.
He wrenches his eyes open when he hears footsteps approaching. He may die here today, but he will force his murderer to look at him, to see what he's done.
The man who steps up to him and peers down at him doesn't look like much of a hunter, though. He's slight and wide-eyed, wearing a long sleeping gown and galoshes on his feet, a lantern clutched in his right hand. He's like no one Frank has ever seen before, but he doesn't look like he's about to hurt Frank. And that's enough for Frank to roll over onto his back, a low whine from the back of his throat escaping him at the pain, and bare his throat.
He hears the clatter of the man dropping his lantern as he gets on his knees next to Frank, and then everything goes black.
He awakens to the sound of voices arguing.
"You have to take it out—"
"I don't know anything about that sort of surgery, Gerard!"
"Well, you're the only chance he's got. Unless you feel like being the one to tell Doc Reynolds about what wandered out of the woods."
Frank opens his eyes slowly, vision swimming into focus. He's lying on his side in a dimly-lit room on a bed with sheets softer than he's ever felt before. He has no idea what time it is, but it must be past dawn, because he's human again.
He tries to shift a little and that's when his body registers that this pain is far beyond the aches and soreness of most mornings-after. A moan escapes from him as the sharp and searing pain in his hip flares up at the slight movement. Frank bites down on his lower lip and tries to keep silent, but he can't help the whimper that's torn from his throat.
The door to the room opens, and though every instinct is telling his body to move, to run as hard and as long as he can, he keeps still. Passing out from the pain isn't a good survival strategy.
The man who found him enters the room, followed by a taller man with the curliest hair Frank has ever seen. They both walk straight up to the bed, seemingly unafraid. Frank blinks up at them and then tilts his head up and back slowly, trying not to whine at the discomfort even that slight motion causes.
He's never displayed himself like this as a human before, but it was almost compulsive at the sight of the man from last night. The gesture seems to have some impact, because the man's eyes widen and he snaps his head to the side and looks at the other man.
The curly-haired man sighs in response. "Okay, fine, l believe you. Sit down and let him hold your hand or something. This isn't going to be fun."
Frank whines at the words, and the man from last night turns back to him, his face concerned and protective. Not taking his eyes off Frank's face, he pulls a chair away from the wall and drags it over next to Frank and sits in it.
"There's a bullet in your leg," he begins, voice low and soothing. "I think it's silver—" Frank whimpers at the word "—and Ray's gonna get it out, okay?" He leans closer, taking Frank's hand, his skin cool and dry. "You need to stay as still as you can. I'll be right here."
Frank's eyes flick down to the foot of the bed where Ray is taking out a variety of metal instruments from a black case Frank hadn't noticed when they first came in. He shuts his eyes and swallows hard.
When he feels a hand carding through his dirty hair, he opens them again and stares at the man. He smiles down at Frank. "You ready?" A slight squeeze of his hand is all Frank can manage but it seems to be enough. "All set, Ray?"
"Keep him as still as you can, Gerard," Ray says from behind him, and the sheet covering the back of Frank's right leg is lifted away.
He feels the steady pressure of Ray's hand resting on his bare side. "What's your name, kid?" Ray asks.
"Frank." He swallows hard, trying not to tense up in anticipation.
"Okay, Frank. I'm going to need you to take a deep breath in and then let it out, okay? Can you do that?"
Frank nods a little and breathes in as steadily as he can. When he begins to release it, he feels the first pressure against the wound and he chokes on the exhale.
"Just keep breathing, Frank," Ray says as pain like a fire-hot poker stabbing into his thigh starts vibrating through Frank's body. He grits his teeth and tries not to twitch away, but god, the burning—
"Frank, look at me." Frank forces his eyes open and looks at Gerard, who's gazing intently at him, hand firm in Frank's hair. "You can do this, Frank. You're being so brave—"
Frank whines when he feels something shift in his thigh. "The silver burns, holy fuck—"
Gerard grips his hand tighter. "And that's why Ray's getting it out. You just need to hold onto me and breathe, and you're going to be fine. Right, Ray?"
"Maybe don't talk to me right now, Gerard." Ray's voice is tense and strained but there's still a thread of affection running through his words.
"See? Ray's gonna make you all better. Just keep looking at me." And Frank does, Gerard's voice almost hypnotizing.
"Can you talk some more?" Frank whispers, desperate for the words to continue.
Gerard smiles crookedly at that. "I can talk as much as you want. You're going to be fine. We're going to take care of you until you're well, get this bullet out and then put some meat on your bones. You just need to keep being so still, and brave, and good."
Frank lets the words wash over him, staring into Gerard's eyes, which are brown except for when they catch the light in a certain way and suddenly they're green. He keeps staring as he can feel Ray tugging the bullet out of his flesh, silver flaring against him as Ray finally gets the piece out. It's pain like he's never felt before.
But all he can think about is how beautiful Gerard is.
When Frank wakes up again, his hip and thigh feel sore and tender, but there isn't the same acute pain radiating out from the bullet wound. He gives himself a moment to take stock of how the rest of his body feels, noting the muscle fatigue in his shoulders and what feels like a strain along his left side, the result of compensating for his injured right flank, most likely. Then he attempts to sit up.
The action is exhausting but still possible, and he makes himself rest for another couple of minutes before he slowly swings his legs over the edge of the bed and prepares to stand.
He's wearing a pair of soft sleep pants, the fabric floating over his skin, not catching on his heavy bandages at all. On top he has on a loose button-down shirt made out of the same material, finery like he's never wore before. He wonders for a fleeting moment if it might be silk before dismissing the idea as preposterous. Even a household that would rescue and heal an unknown werewolf wouldn't waste such things on an animal.
Frank takes a deep breath and braces his fists on the bed, pushing himself up slowly. He finds his balance fairly quickly, which pleases him, and while his right hip is tender, it appears that this wound is healing as rapidly as most that he suffers while Changed.
When he takes his first step he groans in pain, reassessing how well he's healed so far. He shuffles across the floor, cautious and wary, and he pauses before opening the door of his room, unsure of what else he might find in this house.
He's fairly certain the sight that greets him would cause his knees to go weak even were he at full strength. The hallway he walks out into is like nothing he's ever seen before, walls covered in huge tapestries in reds and purples and black. Paintings and silver mirrors of all sizes are on display over them, with massive candelabras burning on tables lining the hallway, their light reflecting off the metal of the mirror frames. And many of the tables hold centerpieces of dried white and red roses artfully clustered around human skulls.
Frank is beginning to wonder if he might have been better off staying in the room.
"So you must be Frank."
Frank turns around at the words, staring back at the man who stands before him, face impenetrable. Frank suppresses the impulse to run; it seems unlikely Gerard and Ray would have bothered to heal him and then allow a stranger to do him harm.
The fact Frank is in no condition to be attempting an escape from a house he knows not at all also contributes to his decision.
He swallows and nods. "I am."
The man studies him through his wire spectacles, eyes steady on Frank's. After a moment he makes a satisfied little sound and nods his head. "Makes sense."
Frank is about to ask what he means when Gerard comes barreling down the hallway. "Mikey, where did you—oh." He stops himself upon seeing Frank, forehead creasing. "Frank! Is everything all right? Why are you out of bed?"
Frank shrugs, wanting to turn around and climb back into bed at the very suggestion. Gerard's probably right, he shouldn't be up yet. "I wanted to see if I could walk on my own. And I can, mostly," he adds, realizing as he says it just how fatigued he really is.
Gerard frowns harder. "Are you sure? You don't look—"
Frank interrupts him. "Can I have something to eat?"
Mikey turns to Gerard and hits him in the arm. "You haven't fed him yet? Gerard," he says reproachfully.
Waving his arms in the air, Gerard moves to walk towards Frank and then stops himself. "I was on my way to offer him that! If you would like, dinner is about to be served and I could have it brought to you in your room."
Frank shakes his head. "I would like to eat with others, if that is acceptable." He needs to find out more about where he is, one way or another, and a seat at the servant's table is as good a method as any.
Gerard's face lights up. "Of course! It's just down this way." He waits for Frank to walk up to him slowly and then matches his pace down the hall, Mikey meandering in front of them. "Ray had said you would heal quickly, but I wasn't expecting this."
Frank nods. "Usually it's even faster."
"Silver is nasty stuff." Mikey's voice floats back towards them.
They walk down the rest of the hall together, Frank stealing looks at the art and centerpieces they pass. Mikey quickly leaves them behind, but Gerard continues to keep pace with Frank, not seeming to mind that Frank needs to rest every fourth step.
When they get to a large spiral staircase, Gerard swings out and gets in front of Frank, walking down the stairs backwards and holding his right arm out in front of him.
"What good is that going to do if I topple over you?" Frank asks, smiling a little even as he grips the banister more tightly.
Gerard smiles back at him, his progress down the steps sure-footed and smooth. "At the very least I could cushion your fall."
Frank snorts. "Not like you've got much to cushion me with," he says, crooking an eyebrow.
Gerard holds out his arms from his body. "Like you're one to talk about size!"
"Please don't let go like that." The last thing Frank needs is the man who saved his life falling down the stairs and dying in an attempt to help Frank more.
"Ahhh, I'm almost to the bottom anyway." And Gerard is right, turning around and jumping over the last few steps. He looks back at Frank and extends his hand up to him.
Frank takes it without hesitation, his hand fitting in Gerard's so easily. He continues down the final steps and then makes himself release Gerard's hand. "Thanks."
Gerard's smile is small and a little crooked, nothing that should be attractive and yet somehow is. “Come on.”
Frank follows him down a smaller hallway that opens up on a large dining room. He sees Ray sitting there with Mikey and stops in the entrance.
"What—”
Ray cuts him off. "Frank, I didn't expect to see you up! Nothing's wrong, is there?"
Frank looks over at Gerard, still confused. Perhaps Gerard wanted him to check in with Ray before he headed off to dinner? "I'm doing okay. Still pretty exhausted, and I realized I should get something to eat."
Ray nods back at him. "Good, having an appetite is a very good sign. Have a seat!"
Frank is about to beg off, and then he realizes that Gerard is holding a chair out and looking expectantly at Frank. He may not understand exactly what's going on here, but he's too exhausted from the walk to turn it down.
He walks over to where Gerard is standing and tries to look natural when he sits and Gerard pushes him in towards the table. There are five settings but only the four of them in the room; he's about to ask when a fifth gentleman walks in.
"Hunting today was fucking worthless—oh, hello," he says upon seeing Frank. "You must be the mysterious houseguest I've heard so much about."
"I'm Frank," he says, wondering if he should stand so shortly after being installed in his seat by Gerard. He settles for waving at him.
"I'm James, one of Gerard's many minions." James flicks out his napkin and spreads it over his lap.
"Don't listen to him, I don't have minions," Gerard says, serving himself a big spoonful of what looks like a vegetable casserole, an absurdly casual meal for such an impressive room and place setting. "I have loyal acolytes, it's totally different."
"Yes, please do get our titles correct, James, you know how I hate inaccurate billing," Ray says.
"What, uh, what do you do?" Frank asks. "Are you a doctor?"
Ray laughs. "No no, not exactly. I care for the livestock and do some basic veterinarian care for all of them. I deal with animals all day long, basically."
"Yes, that's why we figured Ray was the best candidate to deal with your bullet," Gerard says.
Frank drops his fork of food, stomach rolling. He should have expected this, should have know that they just saw him for what he was, a—
"Gerard, you are such an asshole," Mikey says casually.
Gerard looks over at Frank, eyes wide. "No, I just meant that he's the only one of us who's done anything even like perform surgery on any living creature! Oh Frank, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. That's not what I think of you at all."
Frank hates this whole conversation, his chest feeling tight. The look of distress on Gerard’s face only makes it worse; Frank doesn’t know why it should bother him, but rather than taking pleasure at his discomfort Frank only wants to wipe that expression away. He changes the subject to the first thing he thinks of. "Why are there skulls all over the place?"
James coughs and then starts laughing, unable to contain it. Frank sneaks a glance at Gerard, wanting to see how he responds to awkward questions. Gerard’s face is a mixture of embarrassment and pride.
"It's not that weird, really," Gerard begins. "When Mikey and I first inherited this place from our Great-Uncle, I wanted to actually use the land to the south. If not for food, then at least plant some flowers there, or create a maze, or something. But it was just barren and open." He pauses, pushing around his food on his plate for a bit, and Frank is about to ask him what that has to do with skulls in centerpieces when Gerard continues. "The reason it wasn't used became apparent when we started digging and turned up a bunch of skeletons."
"Without any markers?" Frank asks.
Gerard nods. "Yup. Just scattered throughout the earth. And I didn't really want to just cover them back over, ignore these people and their lives, but I don't know who they are, either, so I wasn't sure what to do. But then I realized that even if I couldn't honor each of them specifically, I could still do so in general. And so I cleaned the skulls and brought them back to the house and put them on display," he says all matter-of-fact, like it had been the obvious decision to make.
Perhaps Frank shouldn't find this charming, or sweet, or anything even approaching normal, but there's something about the way Gerard looks right now, like it was the right thing to do, and so of course he did it. It's—enchanting.
The moment is broken by Mikey sighing quietly from across the table. "And so now everyone thinks we're into the occult."
"It's not my fault that old lady took away entirely the wrong conclusion from her visit. She didn't even really care at all anyway, just wanted to see what we'd done with the place since Great-Uncle Bernard died," Gerard says. He sniffs a little. "If people aren't willing to look below the surface, I don't care to know them anyway. Right, Frank?" He smiles over at him.
Frank is inclined to agree.
After dinner Frank can feel himself fading already, even the effort of keeping himself upright a challenge. Gerard notices and is at his side almost instantly.
"Time to get you back upstairs, yes?" Gerard says, supporting Frank a little with one arm under his.
Frank nods, too tired to even try walking on his own. He's never responded like this to an injury before; he's beginning to wonder if needs to mention something to Ray, but he seemed happy enough with Frank's progress. Better not to bother him unless he absolutely needs to.
As Gerard is helping him back up the stairs, he realizes what a terrible houseguest he's been. "Gerard, I haven’t yet thanked you for saving my life."
"It was nothing, truly," Gerard says, letting Frank rest once they reach the top. "Anyone would have done the same."
Frank shakes his head. "We both know that's not true."
Gerard stares at him, focus almost unnerving, but Frank finds the attention reassuring almost, more of a comfort than anything else. "Well, anyone who wouldn't have done that for you is a fool."
Frank has no idea what to say to that.
Once they make it back to Frank's room he collapses into the bed, legs giving out completely. "Whoa, are you all right?" Gerard asks.
Frank nods and then yawns, attempting to cover his mouth but failing pretty spectacularly. "I'm just tired. It's been a long day," he jokes, but it cuts too close to the truth for that.
Gerard looks at him, face pinched. "Tomorrow I'll just bring you up something, how about that." He brushes his hand over Frank's hair, and Frank moves into Gerard's hand, the touch soothing.
It's almost painful when Gerard pulls away again and starts to walk over to door, Frank's leg starting to register its disapproval of all the activity today.
"Sleep well, Frank," Gerard says quietly from the door, and when he leaves Frank expects to drop off into sleep quickly, but he must have really overdone it more than he'd realized, because the pain only increases. His sleep, when it comes, is fitful and restless.
When Frank wakes up the following morning his leg feels stiff and tight. The walk to and from the washroom loosens up his muscles a little bit, but on the whole he feels fairly awful, and it's a relief to be able to fall back into his soft bed.
Even better is when there's a knock on the door a few minutes later and Gerard walks in, carrying a covered tray. "Good morning, Frank! Sleep well?"
Frank decides not to lie. "Not particularly, actually."
Gerard frowns as he puts down the tray on the side table, sitting down on the bed next to Frank. "Leg hurting?"
Frank nods. "I think I just overdid it yesterday. I stretched it out a little this morning though and I think it helped. I'm already feeling a bit better."
Gerard smiles at that, the grin completely transforming his face. "Well, good! And I'm sure food will aid you as well." Gerard takes off the cover of the tray and lays it on the floor.
Frank is about to ask if he wouldn't mind just staying to give him a bit of company when he sees that there are two full plates on the tray. "Thank you for coming to have breakfast with me."
Gerard beams. "Of course! Have to make sure you're doing all right."
Frank eats as much as he can, his appetite this morning much better than it was last night, and once he's eaten his fill he's suddenly exhausted again, ready to sleep for another full day and night.
Gerard notices, smiling down at Frank when he flops back onto his pillows after eating the last bite of eggs and toast. "Ready for a nap?"
Frank nods, not sure how to ask his next question. Finally he just blurts it out. "Would you mind scratching my head again?" He blushes after the question leaves his mouth, the words sounding ridiculous even to his own ears. "It just felt very relaxing."
Gerard doesn't tease him, or pick up the tray and leave as quickly as he can, or anything like that. "Of course I will, Frank." He sinks his hand into Frank's hair, and Frank growls low in his throat at the contact, moving his hand into the touch. He breathes and sighs as Gerard works his hand through Frank's hair again and again, untangling snarls and brushing it back out of Frank's face, and Frank falls asleep to the sensation of being petted, of being cared for.
The next day Frank wakes feeling a bit stronger, and after walking around in his room a bit, testing his leg, he decides to venture back out.
When he finds his way to the main dining room, he discovers Gerard in there with Ray and Mikey. "Um, good morning."
Ray smiles up at him. "It's actually a half past one, but it's good to see you up, Frank. Gerard said that you had worn yourself out a bit two days ago—how are you feeling?"
"Better." Frank walks over to his chair and sits down, pleased at how much two more days of rest seems to have done for him. "Actually, much better."
Ray beams. "Good! Gerard was rather worried."
Gerard shrugs. "It's not weird to want your guest's health to improve."
That sparked a question that had been on Frank's mind for almost a week. "Which reminds me. I know that I was shot. And I know that you all rescued me. But what I don't know is why he allowed it." He swallows and forces himself to continue. "Why didn't he come after me on your land?"
Gerard and Mikey exchange glances, Ray's focus on his plate. "Gerard's reputation isn't always helpful, but occasionally it has its benefits," Mikey says slowly.
Frank stares at him. “His reputation?”
Gerard nods. "I've had remarkably few trespassers for being so new to this area of the country. I'm left alone. One might even say avoided. And it's not just because they don't like me." He shrugs, cutting a large slice of meat and stuffing it into his mouth, gesturing with his knife while he chews and then swallows. "Fear has a large part of it. And the fact that I would rescue a werewolf at all probably made the rumors seem true."
Frank still can't quite believe what they're saying. "So he just let me get away because I happened to come to you?"
Gerard smiles at him. "That’s my best guess. Aren't you lucky."
And Frank is pretty sure he’s luckier than he had any idea.
Frank's strength slowly begins to increase over the next few days, his legs starting to feel like he can trust them again. He stays inside the house, not yet interested in venturing out past the solid walls to confront the world again, but luckily the estate is large enough that there's plenty for him to explore. In addition to all of the paintings and tapestries and other pieces of art scattered throughout the house, there's a large music room on the first floor, the grand piano taking up one corner of the room.
He's in there one afternoon when Gerard walks through the door and then stops upon seeing Frank. "I didn't expect to see you in here."
Frank shakes his head, wanting to hide or apologize for being in here despite Gerard’s assurances that he can go anywhere in the house. He curbs that impulse though, heart beating faster at the sight of Gerard. He's wearing yet another outfit that Frank doesn't understand at all, a pair of short pants with boots laced up his calves and a floppy shirt on top. The materials are obviously fine, the construction beautiful, but Frank has certainly never seen anyone put together an ensemble like this before. He fingers over the cloth of his shirt, suddenly conscious once more that everything he's wearing is something he owes Gerard, and cannot repay. He glances back up at Gerard and realizes he's been waiting for a response. "Do you play?" he asks, unwilling to voice any of his true thoughts at the moment.
Gerard laughs. "Oh no. My Great-Uncle was a great pianist, and Ray is quite talented, but I never had the natural aptitude for learning scales and lacked the patience to make up for it." He sweeps his hand over the top of the instrument. "If you play, you're welcome to use it any time."
Frank shakes his head. "No, I never learned the piano, just the—no. But I would be happy to hear Ray play at some point, if he's willing."
Gerard's face lights up at that. "I am sure we can convince him. How are you feeling, by the way?"
Frank shrugs, unable to figure out how to say "better when you're around" without sounding like a complete creep. It's nothing he can figure out; Gerard is a good caretaker, to be sure, but eating soup in his presence should not be as fundamentally more soothing than when he eats with Ray or Mikey. He settles on, "Better," and from the way Gerard beams at him he's happy he didn't mention his strange attachment.
"Good! I was hoping that you were continuing to do better. You seemed like it, from what I had seen, but you never know," Gerard says, flapping his arms around. "Ray has a tendency to not mention an injury until he's practically dead, so I've gotten a little wary of trusting how people act around me." He moves closer to Frank, face open and earnest, and Frank matches his steps forward until they're almost touching. "Not that I wouldn't have believed you, just I was hoping you were better so I was glad to hear it," he continues, reaching out to stroke Frank's jaw as he talks.
Frank closes his eyes at the touch, tilting his head back a little. He doesn't breathe, the sound of his heart thumping already loud in his ears, all of his focus on the feel of Gerard’s fingers dragging across his skin. And then Gerard's hand disappears as quickly as it arrived.
When Frank opens his eyes again Gerard isn't looking at him, fingers tapping on a couple of the piano keys. "I should—I should really go check to see where Mikey is," Gerard mumbles, and before Frank can respond he turns on his heel and leaves the room as quickly as he entered it.
Over the following days this happens more than once—Gerard finds him in a room, talks with him, and then as soon as Frank makes any motion towards him he makes an excuse to leave. It drives Frank crazy, feeling like Gerard can't stand his presence beyond a certain amount, and it makes him even more determined to continue healing and then leave. He doesn't wish to be any more of an imposition than he already is.
When he mentions to Ray almost two weeks after the full moon that he's hoping to be able to stop relying on their generosity soon, Ray stops mucking out the horse stall he's in and just stares at him. "Frank, you only started even coming outside yesterday."
"And?" Frank leans over and picks up one of the barn cats, stroking over the fur on the top of her head. By this time next week he won't be able to step into the barn at all without her hissing at him, but for now she'll tolerate him.
Ray rests his pitchfork on the side of the stall and crosses his arms over his chest, studying Frank closely. "So you really think that you'll be fine walking the five miles from here to the nearest town in no time, huh?"
"Five miles?"
Ray nods. "Well, and I can't exactly offer to give you a lift, given that you don't want to depend on our generous natures."
Frank sighs. "I'm not trying to reject anything—"
"Uh-huh."
"—I just don't like feeling as though I'm a burden."
Ray looks at him steadily. "Frank. You're not a burden. You're someone who needed our help, and we can give it. And I don't know what your story is, or whether you were running from just that hunter or something bigger than that, but please don't leave out of some misplaced guilt. We all want you to stay. Gerard especially."
Frank shakes his head. "I don't know about that."
Ray's smile is wry. "Trust me."
The next night at dinner Frank notices that Gerard is barely touching his food. He watches him pick up a piece of meat with his fork, then put it back down again and cut it into a smaller bite, and then he puts it down altogether and just takes a sip of water. And then again with the potato, and then the green beans.
He's about to ask Gerard if he's feeling well when Gerard puts down his cutlery with a clang and looks over at Frank, blinking widely when he realizes that Frank had already been watching him. "Oh! I was just thinking about something." Frank waits to see if he'll elaborate, and just as he's opening his mouth to say something Gerard continues. "I haven't ask if there are others that you need to contact, to let them know that you're here and safe. I'm sorry I didn't think to offer that sooner," he says, looking down at his plate once more and poking at a piece of potato accusingly.
Frank focuses on his own plate of food. "There's nothing to apologize for."
"Yes, there is, I should have thought—"
Frank looks up at Gerard. "Even if you had offered that to me, there isn't anyone I could have contacted anyway." Gerard's eyes are wide, and Frank forces himself to continue on. "That hunter wasn't just after me. He's spent the last few years going though packs, picking us off one by one. He knew how to separate us while we're Changed, how to draw us out so that he can kill the Alphas first and then go after the rest." He forks a green bean and shoves it into his mouth, tasting nothing as he chews. "I've been on my own for a while now. He's chased me a long way."
"Why doesn't he just leave you alone?" Gerard asks, voice hushed.
Frank's answering laugh is hollow. "Why did he go after any of us? Because he can. And because every time he kills a wolf and brings back the body, people applaud him, tell him he's done them a service."
"That's fucked up." Frank looks over at Ray, whose face is stony and cold. His eyes flick to Mikey who also looks angry and concerned, mouth turned down at both corners.
He tries as always to keep the rage from bubbling up inside of him, from consuming him whole. "People have good reason to fear werewolves."
"Some werewolves, surely, but you're alone! You're vulnerable and isolated. And it's not like you're that big of a werewolf, anyway," Gerard says, his fork nearly flying out of his hand when he gestures in outrage.
Frank stares at him, a smile crossing his face unwillingly. "Did you just suggest that I should be allowed to live because I'm so tiny?"
Gerard stares back at him, a look of panic taking over. "I didn't mean it that way! Just, you're so small I'm not really sure how much of a threat you really could be—"
Frank puts his head down onto his arms and starts to laugh, full body cackles that leave him weak. He looks up and catches sight of Gerard's face and that sets him off again, barely staying on the chair.
"Gerard, sometimes you're better off not pleading your case," Mikey notes, spreading a thick layer of butter on a roll and taking a bite.
"I just—" Gerard stops himself, looking frustrated. "I just don't think it's fair for a man with a gun and a horse to be picking on you."
"Okay, Gerard," Frank gasps out. "Point taken. I'll be sure to argue that when he comes back."
The silence that drops over the table is thick. "You think he'll come for you again?" Gerard asks quietly.
Frank nods. "Has every month for a year now."
Gerard smiles. It's not a pleasant look. "Well, then we'll have to be ready for him."
Frank continues to test himself and his leg more and more, going for gradually longer walks outside each day. He still spends more than half of each day and night in bed, requiring both a morning and an afternoon nap, but his strength is slowly but surely coming back to him.
The site of the bullet wound still hasn't completely healed the way he's accustomed to, the skin surrounding it inflamed and slightly swollen. It seems to be going down a little each day though, so he tries not to worry too much about it. He's never known anyone who's been shot by a silver bullet and lived for more than a few minutes after; he has no first-hand knowledge to rely on. Frank just tries to trust that it's normal.
What doesn't feel normal, what makes Frank feel increasingly like he's going to jump out of his own skin, is the way Gerard looks at him after Frank told him about the hunter. He's always watched Frank, but now every time Gerard looks at him Frank’s entire body heats up from the attention, pooling from the middle of his belly and spreading outwards. The last time he'd ever felt something like this was when he still had a pack, and that scares him more than anything else he's experienced since being alone.
This isn't his home, or his pack. He can't keep letting his desire for it to be mask that fact.
And then he catches Gerard's glance again and it's impossible to remember anything else.
He's in the music room reading one of the novels he keeps stealing from Gerard's library about four days before the full moon when Ray comes in. "Hey, Frank."
"Hi, Ray. Did you want to use the piano?" Frank closes his book and is about to get up when Ray puts his hand out to stop him.
"No, I'm fine. I actually wanted to know if you'd let me take a look at your bullet wound. I managed to find a book on silver poisoning yesterday and I want to make sure you're healing right."
Oh. Frank swallows hard, pushing down the fear that immediately surfaces. "Sure. Can we do that in my room?"
Ray smiles at him. "Of course. Wherever you'd feel most comfortable." They walk up to Frank's room, and Frank tries to quash the anxiety he feels. This is Ray, he's just trying to make sure he's okay. That's all.
Once in the room Frank strips off his pants quickly and gets up onto the bed, face down. He pillows his head in his arms and tries to relax. He can hear Ray moving towards him and then a soft "Hmmm," as Ray sits down on the bed next to Frank.
"I'm just going press down on the skin around the wound, okay?" Frank nods his head and feels Ray's hand, cool and firm, touch down on his thigh. "Does that hurt?"
Frank frowns for a moment, trying to find the words to describe it. "It doesn't hurt, not exactly, but it feels weird. Like—like your hand isn't supposed to be there," he mumbles out.
Ray withdraws his hand immediately, making another interested sound. "Does that normally happen when you're recovering from an injury?"
Frank shakes his head, and when Ray stands up from the bed he grabbed the covers and got under them, suddenly not wanting to be half-naked. "To be honest, not much about this has been like other gashes or cuts."
Ray is standing near the door, arms crossed over his chest. "What else has been weird?"
Frank shrugs. "Just how long it's taken to heal in general. Usually you can't even see where I was hurt while Changed two or three days afterward." He hesitates for a moment. "What are the other side effects of silver? Aside from the lethal one," he adds wryly.
Ray moves back towards the bed, taking a seat in the chair Frank usually thinks of as Gerard's. "The sensitivity you’re experiencing is one of them, but it looks pretty mild and I have hope it will disappear completely. More seriously, it tends to do pretty terrible things to an entire pack, not just the wolf afflicted.” Ray coughs, his face a little flushed. “And, well, it makes a wolf choose a mate, basically, even if they're already mated, and so it can rip apart the whole pack with jealousy and broken bonds." He looks down at his hands. “That’s possibly the only good part about you being on your own."
Frank can barely think over the pounding of his heart. "Yeah. Good thing."
The next time he sees Gerard he tries to convince himself that it isn’t true, can't be. But he immediately feels better just from being near Gerard, feels more centered and—himself in a way that's the most comforting sensation Frank's ever experienced and the most terrifying.
He can't stay here much longer.
Ray and the others have made it clear that any attempt to leave before his Change won't be allowed, but that doesn't settle what will need to be done the actual night. He brings it up the night before the full moon at dinner.
"So, do you have any strong chains? Or perhaps shackles will work best. A room with an iron door would also probably suffice but I don't imagine even this house has that," Frank says, cutting into his vegetable lasagna. He waits to hear what they have planned for him.
When the silence has gone on a bit longer than he was expecting, he looks up to find all four of them staring at him. "What are you talking about, Frank?" Gerard finally asks.
Frank waves around his fork. "For tomorrow. If I'm free in the house I'll jump through a window to get outside, so I'll need to be restrained." He feels pinned by the look Gerard is giving him, unable to look away.
"Frank, you're going to be outside." Frank makes a sound to interrupt but Gerard continues on. "You'll be outside, so that you can run. And we'll be with you."
Frank can't let this happen. "What if I hurt one of you?"
"Did you feel like you would hurt me the last time you were Changed?" Gerard's eyes are bottomless, his focus enveloping Frank's whole body. Frank shakes his head. "Then I don't believe you'll hurt us this time."
"Gerard—"
"I'm not locking you up, Frank. None of us are. That's not who you are."
And the only thing Frank can do is lower his head and say, "Thank you."
"Good!" Gerard says brightly. "Mikey, would you like more peas?"
The day of the full moon dawns, and Frank is already nervous and edgy. He hasn't slept well for the last three days, thinking about what might happen, what he might do.
Gerard is still watching him constantly, still studying him every time Frank walks into a room and finds Gerard there. It happens more and more often; it seems like he can't go anywhere in the house without encountering Gerard.
The fourth time it happens that day Frank spins on his heels to leave the room when Gerard calls out his name. "Frank."
Frank stops, chest heaving as he tries to get in enough air. He doesn't know what's wrong with him, why he can't be around him anymore. "What is it, Gerard."
He can feel Gerard stepping closer, the heat of his body up against Frank's back, so close and yet not touching. "I wanted to know if you need anything before you Change. If there's anything we can give you to make it more comfortable, if you want to be alone or would rather company."
At that Frank laughs hollowly, giving into the urge to turn around and look at Gerard fully. "Gerard, my Change isn't something people want to see, trust me."
Gerard doesn't move. "I wouldn't mind."
Frank shakes his head. "You won't be saying that in four hours." He stares up at Gerard, who finally blinks and steps back, rubbing his hand over his face.
"Well, I imagine it would be nicer for you to be outside when it starts, at least." Gerard looks at the far wall, eyes avoiding Frank's. "I'll let Ray show you where, if you'd prefer that. Or he can even stay with you instead of me."
Frank swallows. "That would be fine."
"Okay." And Gerard leaves the room, his absence cutting through Frank. He forces himself not to follow, just sits down on a couch and stares into the middle distance, trying not to think of anything at all.
The light in the room changes, grows dimmer and dimmer, and Frank can feel the pull in his blood, can feel that she's going to be cresting soon, so soon, just soon enough. He already wants to run, to not be in this prison, this cage. He's about to stand up and find Ray, the urgency growing too strong to ignore any longer, when Ray pokes his head in.
"You ready?"
Frank nods, afraid of what will come out if he tries to speak at this moment.
He follows Ray out to the estate, down near the forest that Frank came out of a month ago. Ray stands and watches Frank, his face lit by the dying sun, and Frank keeps his body still with some effort, clenching his hands at his side. He tries not to focus on the rifle Ray’s carrying, tries to keep himself calm, but it’s difficult.
Finally Ray clears his throat. "I don't know if they just like, fall off or whatever, but if you wanted to get out of your clothes now, that's fine. I can turn away."
Frank growls at that, the sound escaping his throat. He holds out a hand in apology and shakes his head. "You don't. You don't have to look away." Ray nods slowly at that, and Frank pulls his shirt up over his head and shucks his pants off after, folding them carefully. He leaves his underwear on, deciding that the debt of a piece of cotton is worth not being completely naked. "Would you give these back to Gerard?" He holds out his clothes, arms shaking a bit from the strain of the moon's pull.
"I'll be sure to hold them safe for you, Frank."
Frank's entire body is suddenly wrenched back. He moans and then swallows, needing to say this quickly while he still can. "Don't—don't let me hurt someone, Ray. Shoot me if you have to, just—" He gasps as the bones of his body begin to shift under his skin, the joints popping out and then back into place, formed anew. "—Just don't let me hurt him. Please."
Ray's response is lost in the roar in his ears, the moon on him fully now, in his blood. He tumbles to the ground and shudders, still Frank and yet—more at the same time. It consumes him, and he wonders for a fleeting second if he's not going to make it this time, if the silver will kill him now.
And then he's lying on his side, tongue hanging out of his mouth a little as he pants, and he lifts his head up and—
That smell—
He needs to find that right now.
He gets to his feet, stopping to investigate the man standing in front of him (Ray, a part of his brain that's muted but still there says. His name is Ray. Pack.), and while he likes this man and doesn't fear him, he's not who Frank needs; not who he's looking for.
Frank takes off on a run, breathing in the scent and letting his feet follow his nose, howling as he realizes he's getting closer. He hurtles towards the house up on the hill, and about halfway between him and the house is a figure in the field. Frank yips as he recognizes the source of the scent, and he attempts to pull back on his speed a little but doesn't quite make it, leaping up and knocking over Gerard.
Gerard laughs, the sound free and ridiculous to Frank's ears, and Frank howls in response. He lets Gerard sit up, takes his paws off Gerard's chest, but then he headbutts him in the shoulder before jumping back, ready to play.
"Oh, you want to play now, is that it? Glad to see your leg isn't exactly bothering you," Gerard says, running his hand down Frank's right flank and patting over his hip. It feels strange, not exactly bad but not what Frank wants to think about or focus on right now. He moves away and pushes his side against Gerard's shoulder, toppling him over onto the grass. "I get it, hold your horses."
Frank crotches down, legs extended in front of him and tail in the air, and watches as Gerard gets back up onto his feet. And then he launches himself at Gerard again, overcome with joy.
He's not exactly sure why Gerard bothered to get up, given that he's back on the ground again, but he licks over Gerard's face. Gerard is laughing helplessly, the high-pitched version that Frank doesn't understand at all, but he can smell that Gerard is happy, which is all that matters. And then Gerard flips them over until Frank is on his back, but Frank wriggles out as quickly as he can and fights back.
Frank opens his mouth and grabs hold of Gerard's arm, his jaw carefully loose around the limb. He looks up at Gerard's face, and when Gerard meets his glance he’s smiling, white teeth glowing in the moonlight.
"See, I knew you wouldn't hurt me," Gerard murmurs, running his hand through Frank's fur. Frank makes a sound low in his throat and releases Gerard, rolling over onto his back, paws hanging limp in the air. He blinks back at Gerard, feeling warm and safe in that gaze like never before.
And then he feels the hoofbeats in the earth, coming closer and closer, and that scent fills his nostrils. In an instant his whole body tenses and he prepares to run.
"Wait, Frank." Gerard puts his hand over Frank's chest, a hold Frank could break without even trying, but it halts him. "Let me handle it.”
Gerard turns away from Frank and stands, arms outstretched, as Frank scrambles to his feet. He crouches low, hackles raised, but he stays behind Gerard, waiting.
"Greetings!" Gerard calls out, voice echoing over his land. "You are most welcome here! Or at least you would be, were you not aiming a rifle at someone whom you shall not be allowed to harm."
"Move, or I will kill you first," comes the reply.
Frank growls, not about to allow Gerard to die protecting him, but before he can move Gerard laughs, the sound bright and dangerous. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But you're not about to kill a lord on his own estate. Especially not when there are two other witnesses. Who happen to have rifles of their own trained on you." Frank flicks his eyes to the right and then the left, spying for the first time Ray and James, each standing with a rifle cocked. "Now, you might be able to kill me before they could kill you, and you could take that chance, I suppose. But you would only have seconds to enjoy my death, I'm afraid, before your brains were splattered against the trees."
Frank can see the horse through Gerard's legs, its stance uneasy as it rocks back at the tension. Its rider speaks. "This need not concern you at all, Way."
"Oh, but it does now, you see. The moment you came back, it concerned me. And perhaps you didn't know before who you were dealing with—although I doubt it—but let me make it perfectly clear to you: I am a man who willingly keeps company with werewolves. There is a reason wise men avoid my path. And if you don't turn your horse around and get the fuck off my land right the fuck now, you will wish I had only put a bullet through your head when you had had the chance." Gerard takes three steps forward. "Go."
Frank holds his breath until the hunter finally turns his horse, heading back through the trees. Frank stays low to the ground, concentrating on how the hoofbeats get fainter and fainter until eventually he can't feel them at all. And then he lets out a low whine.
"Hey, hey." Gerard gets to his knees in front of Frank. "It's okay. He's gone, and I'm pretty sure that asshole isn't coming back."
"Yeah, you actually sounded like an occult master there, Gerard. For a moment even I was pretty scared." Mikey's voice floats over Frank, but he can't do anything other than focus on Gerard's face, his hand on the nape of Frank's neck, squeezing gently.
"Well, I am pretty scary, Mikey. We established this long ago," Gerard says, the pressure of his hand constant but not enough to completely stop the way Frank's body is shaking from the adrenaline. "Now we'll just have to go nocturnal once a month from now on."
"Yeah, because that'll be such a big shift for us." Ray walks up to them just behind Gerard, his gun slung over his shoulder. "He okay, Gerard?"
Gerard nods. "I think so. Just a little worn out from the excitement, yeah?" Frank twists his head and licks the inside of Gerard's wrist in response. "Yeah, that's what I thought. We should get him inside." He stands up, still looking down at Frank steadily. "Come on, Frank. We're right here." And Frank trots back up to the house with them, his side right up against Gerard's leg the whole way.
Everything starts to seem harder and harder to focus on, the exhaustion of both the night and the anticipation of it beginning to take its toll, and when Gerard sits down on Frank's bed and pets the surface next to him and says, "Come on up, Frank," there's nothing in his mind that can find anything wrong with that suggestion. He leaps up onto the bed and flops down, head resting on Gerard’s thigh.
It's the only place he could be.
Frank wakes up the next morning slowly, stretching out his limbs and letting his body luxuriate in the support the bed offers it, cradling him. And then he begins to register things, one after the other.
He's naked. Which makes sense, it's a morning-after. But he's under covers, even tucked in—
And Gerard is lying across from him, face still lax in slumber.
Frank stares at him, studying Gerard’s face in a way he hasn't allowed himself to since he first started to recover and realized the danger there. His eyes trace over Gerard’s eyelashes against his cheek, the small mark right below his right eye, the weird yet perfect shape of his lips. Frank reaches out with his hand, lightly brushing a fingertip over Gerard’s cheekbone and then down around his jaw, thumbing over his chin.
Gerard's eyes open. "Hi, Frank," he says, a smile crossing his lips. And Frank leans in and kisses him.
He gives himself a moment after making contact to enjoy it, the feel of Gerard's mouth against his, how soft it is. And then he makes himself pull away, bowing his head a little. "I'm sorry, I—"
"Frank." He looks up at Gerard's voice. "Don't apologize. I've wanted to do that for a month."
"Then why haven't you?" Frank asks, the question ripped from his mouth, and Gerard grabs his face with both hands and kisses him again.
It's nothing like the first kiss, hesitant and sweet. This is possession, an attack of the senses like Frank has never known before, Gerard taking him over completely. He gasps into Gerard's mouth, his body arching up towards Gerard's, and he holds on to both of Gerard's arms and just tries to keep up.
Gerard finally breaks away, kissing down over Frank's jaw and neck, and Frank tips his head back at the contact, rolling back so that he's on display for Gerard. His heart pounds as he feels Gerard look at him, gaze traveling down his neck and over his chest, one hand slowly pushing the sheet down to reveal more of him.
"You're so beautiful," Gerard says, and Frank moans, his body flushing hot at the words. "So lovely, and I didn't want to overstep my bounds, Frank, you were already dependent on me for so much, I didn't want to take more than you wanted to give—"
"Not possible," Frank tells him honestly, and Gerard rolls over on top of him at the words. His body covers Frank’s completely, and he feels pinned and safe and overwhelmed, the pressure and contact making him melt back into the bed. He groans and grabs Gerard’s ass, pulling him down against him.
Gerard’s hands are busy running up and down Frank's sides as he kisses him again. "Tell me," he says between sucking Frank's lower lip between his teeth and then releasing it, "tell me what you like."
"Anything," Frank gasps out, his hips pushing up against Gerard's body. "Oh god, fucking anything."
"But I want to know, Frank," Gerard says as he kisses up to Frank's ear and then whispers. "I want to make it good."
"I don't exactly have a list to give you, Gerard," Frank says finally. "Not really what I've spent the last few years doing." At that Gerard pulls away, his face surprised. Frank feels his cheeks get red and he forces himself to keep looking at Gerard. "More time spent running than on, uh, romance."
"But surely sometime—"
Frank shakes his head.
He had anticipated a number of different reactions to that news, but Gerard moaning out, "Oh god," and sliding down his body to take a long lick up Frank's cock wasn't one of them.
"I'm the first to do this, then?" Gerard asks before taking the head of Frank's cock into his mouth, tongue swirling around the head.
"God, yes," Frank says, hands clutching the bed sheets. The heat and pressure is more intense than he’d ever imagined, the impulse to thrust forward immediate and strong. It’s just so much more than his hand had ever been, and the fact that it’s Gerard whose mouth is tight and hot and wet around him makes Frank feel like he’s going to break open.
He whines when Gerard pulls off, choking on his breath when Gerard’s hand replaces his mouth, the slide slick and intense as he strokes him. "What about this, then?" Gerard asks as he moves down a little further, sucking on Frank's balls and biting the inside of his thighs.
"Fuck, Gerard," Frank moans, head shaking back and forth against his pillow at the overwhelming amount of sensation.
Gerard kisses his thigh right where Frank's ass meets his leg. "Then I'm sure no one's ever gotten the chance to do this for you." And he pushes Frank's legs up and out and licks right over Frank's asshole.
Frank lets out a long moan at the feeling of Gerard's mouth, the way he's spreading Frank open with his tongue. He's pushing up against Gerard’s mouth already, gasping in breaths as best he can but feeling a bit light-headed.
He whines when Gerard pulls away, but Gerard just says, "It's okay, sweetheart, I've got you. Can you hold your legs up for me?" And when Frank reaches his hands down and grabs his legs behind the knees, pulling them up against his chest, Gerard takes Frank's cock in his hand and says, "That's my good boy," before licking into him again.
Frank's whole body is shaking from the feeling of Gerard's mouth and his hand at the same time, his feet tense as he chases his orgasm. He tries to focus on what exactly Gerard is doing to him but he can't, just feeling like he's about to break apart and can't stop it.
"I—Gerard, that's—oh, God," he makes out when he tries to speak, tries to tell Gerard what he's doing to him, but Gerard just hums against his ass and somehow gets deeper, one finger and then two joining his tongue inside him. Frank gives up on trying to sound intelligible and just groans loud and long as he comes, ass clenching down around Gerard's fingers as he spills all over his stomach and Gerard's hand.
When Gerard pulls away a little he lets his legs go with a gasp, splaying them out against the bed. Gerard's fingers are still in Frank's ass, pushing in and out, and Frank whines at the pressure, still so sensitive.
"God, you taste so good, Frank," Gerard says. He swipes a hand through the come on Frank's belly and brings it down to join his other hand. "So good I can't even take it."
"You're the best thing I've ever smelled in my entire life," Frank confesses, and Gerard laughs at that and bends over to kiss him, fingers still working inside him.
"You're definitely the first person who's ever told me that," Gerard says.
"Well, good," Frank says, wrapping his arms around Gerard's back. His body is still completely keyed up, vibrating with need as he pushes his hips up in time to Gerard's movements, and he lifts his head up to kiss Gerard again.
"You want me to fuck you, Frankie?" Gerard whispers into his ear. "Fuck you so hard until you can't remember anything else?"
"Yes," Frank gasps out, cock getting hard again at just the words. "Come on, fucking fuck me, Gerard."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Frank sighs as he lifts his arms above his head and turns his neck, baring his throat to Gerard. "Take me."
Gerard growls against his neck, biting down on his shoulder when he slides his fingers out and then starts to push in with his cock. Gerard gets his arms under Frank's legs and pulls him towards him as he thrusts in, filling Frank completely.
Frank can hardly breathe as Gerard claims him, pounding into him again and again, mouth busy against Frank's neck and ear and face. Frank can't follow all of his words, just hears the want and need and desire there.
Gerard shifts up a little and Frank cries out, completely undone. "Oh fuck, Gerard, yeah," he pants.
"Do you know what you are," Gerard answers back, breath hot against Frank's ear.
"What, oh god—"
"You're mine, Frank, mine and no one else's, I'm not going to let anyone hurt you—"
"Yes yes yes, yours, holy fuck." Frank's legs kick up as he comes again, the pleasure so intense it's almost painful, his entire body covered in sweat.
Gerard pulls out of him fast, shoving the fingers of his left hand back inside Frank as he jerks off over his body. Frank can't take his eyes off Gerard’s hand working his cock, and he lifts his hand and pets over Gerard's chest.
"Yeah, come on, do it Gerard, come all over me, mark me, I'm yours." And Gerard groans as he comes on Frank's chest, watching as it adds to Frank’s come that was smeared across his skin by Gerard’s chest. Gerard slumps back, looking over him, eyes hot. Frank brings his hand up over his chest, rubbing their combined come into his skin.
Gerard leans down and licks up a stripe of it off Frank's chest before kissing him again and smiling. He pulls back a little, face suddenly looking shy in a way Frank’s unused to. “What is it?”
Gerard shrugs, eyes getting distracted when Frank lifts an arm back and tucks his hand behind his head. Frank lets himself enjoy that, basking in the glow when Gerard finally speaks. “Will you stay?”
Frank’s heart seems to skip a beat, his stomach fluttering at the words. He swallows and gazes back at Gerard, studying his face. All he can see there is love and hope. He still can’t quite believe it, though. “Seriously?”
Gerard nods. “I know we can’t replace what you’ve lost, but we want you here. Me most of all,” he adds, one hand stroking over Frank’s hipbone.
Frank sits up, getting his arm around Gerard’s neck and kissing him deep. “As if you could get rid of me.”
They spend most of the day in bed, filthy and covered in come and sweat, but eventually Frank can't ignore the rumbling in his belly any longer. He pushes Gerard into the bath, discovering that the sounds Gerard makes when Frank strokes him off, hand slick with bath oil, are some of the best in the world.
Somewhat cleaner, they stumble into the dining room together, Frank's hand clasped in Gerard's. The others are halfway through eating, Ray and James both focused on their food, but Mikey looks up to give them a tiny smile before spearing another asparagus.
"I always think these look like tall trees," Mikey comments before taking a delicate bite.
Frank nods. "If you had them with some broccoli it'd be like an entire forest." Mikey hums his agreement as Frank and Gerard take their seats, Gerard's hand resting on Frank's knee.
"Frank's decided he's gonna stay here. For awhile, at least."
"I'm shocked," Dewees deadpans, while Ray just beams.
“That’s great, Frank. We were gonna miss your face if you left.”
Frank smiles back at him. “Yeah, sure. You can’t fool me, Ray, you’ve been trying to push me out that door since I arrived.”
“You got me,” Ray says, holding his hands out.
“I knew it!” Frank replies. He takes a deep breath before speaking again, trying to settle his nerves. “Thank you all for what you did last night. It wasn’t just nothing, no matter what you try to tell me now, okay? So thank you.”
“Hey.” Mikey’s looking over at him, face serious. “You’re family now. That’s what we do for family. You’d do the same for us, right?” Frank nods, not trusting himself to speak. “So okay then.”
Frank glances over at Gerard, who leans in and kisses him briefly before pulling back away. “Welcome home, Frank.”