Chapter Text
When Gerry came home, he was greeted by the smell of smoke.
It wasn’t his home, technically. Michael was the one renting the flat, but Gerry stayed over often enough that it had become a shared space.
Michael was fussing over the barely-functional oven, which was the source of the smell. Gerry slid up behind him, settling his hands on Michael’s waist. He nipped playfully at Michael’s ear. “Honey, I’m home.”
Michael squeaked in surprise. “Gerbear! Don’t do that!”
“But you’re so cute when you’re startled. And don’t call me that.”
Michael had recovered from his surprise and gave Gerry a sly grin. “But it’s such a sweet pet name, Gerbear.”
Gerry sighed but didn’t push the issue. Truth be told, he actually liked the nickname, just a little bit. Not that he would ever tell Michael that.
“What happened there?” he asked, gesturing to the oven. Michael groaned. “This stupid oven, I swear. I was going to make cupcakes for work, but I think that’s out the window now. These are in no way salvageable.”
“Can’t you call your landlord, get the oven fixed?”
Michael raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Have you met my landlord? Marie wouldn’t call a repairman with a gun to her head. I’ll just have to make do.”
Gerry flopped down on the couch. “Probably for the best. Gertrude Robinson doesn’t deserve your cupcakes.” Michael frowned and sat beside him.
“I wish you wouldn’t talk about Ms. Robinson that way. She’s a very sweet woman.”
Gerry snorted. “Sunshine, seeing the best in everyone is gonna get you killed one day.”
Michael snuggled into Gerry’s side. “You love it.”
“Yeah. Guess I do.”
Michael hopped up from where he was sitting. “Oh! Before I forget, I bought something for the apartment.” He reached into a shopping bag sitting by the door, and pulled out…
The ugliest fucking blanket Gerry had ever seen.
It had stripes on top of zigzags on top of polka dots on top of geometric shapes. Each individual pattern was in a different neon color, and of course, of course the colors clashed terrifically. The thing hurt to look at. Michael cradled it like a baby.
“Isn’t it hideous?” he asked delightedly.
Gerry laughed. “Sure is. Where did you even find it?”
Michael curled back up on the couch and threw the blanket over them both. Appearances aside, it was a very nice blanket. “I stopped by a thrift shop on my way home from work, and saw it just sitting on one of the shelves. I just had to have it.”
Gerry smiled. “You know, I think it might have been made specially for you.”
—
“Hi, Gerry! What are you doing down here?”
Gerry felt himself melt a little in the face of Michael’s smile. “Gertrude wanted me.”
That was a lie. Gertrude had no idea that Gerry was in the Magnus Institute at all. Gerry was really here to steal Leitners from Artefact Storage again. But he didn’t want Michael to know that.
Gerry greeted Michael with a kiss. Michael giggled. “Oh, Gertrude’s out right now. Just let me put these back-” he gestured to the stack of statements in his arms “-and I can make you some tea while you wait for her.”
“If she isn’t here, I’ll just come back later.”
Michael pouted. “But then I’d miss you. Besides, there’s nothing for me to do right now and I am bored out of my mind. Please stay.”
Gerry softened. Sticking around wasn’t a great idea, considering he didn’t want Gertrude to know he was here. But, as always, he was weak for Michael. “Alright. I’ll stick around for a bit.”
“Yay! I’ll be right back.”
Gerry watched as Michael disappeared into the maze of stacked boxes before heading to the break room. The Archives break room was comically sparse, with only a table and a small kitchenette. It didn’t even have a couch.
Michael slid up behind him, wrapping an arm around Gerry’s waist and putting a hand in his hair. This close, Gerry could smell Michael’s shampoo. Michael, for some godforsaken reason, did not used normal shampoo, but instead favored a sickly-sweet bubble gum scented abomination. The bottle was a lurid pink with a picture of a grinning unicorn. But as much as Gerry hated Michael’s shampoo, he also loved it, because it reminded him of Michael.
“Hey there, sunshine,” Gerry said lowly as he turned around to face his boyfriend.
“Hey yourself.” Michael smiled lopsidedly. “I should make that tea now.”
Gerry hummed and buried his face in Michael’s shoulder. “Just a little longer.”
“A little longer” wound up being until Fiona walked in on them cuddling and being sappy. Gerry didn’t regret a thing.
—
“How upset do you think Marie would be if I painted the walls orange?”
Gerry looked up from the picture he was drawing to see Michael staring down the landlord-white walls of his flat. “I thought you wanted to paint the walls pink.”
Michael groaned. “I don’t know. I can’t pick a favorite color. Though, anything’s better than what I’ve got now.” He sighed through his nose. “What I really want to do is make each wall something different, but I’m afraid you’d never come over again if I did that.”
Gerry selected a yellow colored pencil from the cup on the coffee table. “I wouldn’t mind that, honestly.”
“Really? From the way you dress, I’d think you hated color.”
“I think you’re hot, don’t I?” Gerry said, looking pointedly at Michael’s tie-dye shirt, painted converse sneakers, and jeans with multicolor patches.
“Touché.”
“She’d be very upset, to answer your question.” Gerry slowly swirled the yellow pencil over the paper.
“Ugh, I know.” Michael sprawled himself dramatically over the couch cushions. “Someday, I’m going to buy a house, a real house, not a flat. Then I can paint the walls whatever color I want.”
Gerry glanced fondly at his boyfriend. “There room for another in this house of yours?”
“Oh! Um,” Michael’s face turned a brilliant shade of red. “Yes! Of course! I…I didn’t think you’d want-”
Gerry cut him off with a kiss. “You know I’d already be living here if I could, right? It’s just-”
“-not safe yet, I know.” Michael looked up at him with big, hopeful eyes. “But some day?”
“Yeah.” Gerry leaned his head against Michael’s shoulder. “Some day.”
—
After that, the dream house became just another facet of Michael and Gerry’s life. Whenever they got a free moment after work, they spent it planning out their fantasy home. Michael added a stripy couch, Gerry added blackout curtains. Michael added a sparkly pink vanity, Gerry added a duvet with little skulls on it. Gerry found it to be a lovely exercise, indulgent in a way he never let himself be. Laying out this future with Michael made their relationship feel more permanent, soothing the voice in his head that insisted that it wouldn’t last forever, that something would go wrong.
Of course, something went wrong.
“You’re what?!”
Michael was irritatingly calm in the face of Gerry’s panic. “I’m going to Russia with Gertrude to help her research a statement. I’m an Archival Assistant, Gerry, that’s my job.”
“No it isn’t! Your job is to help take statements and shit! At a desk! Not in Russia!” Gerry gripped at his hair in frustration. “Don’t go, Michael. Please. It isn’t a good idea.”
Michael crossed his arms. “Why not?”
Gerry bit his lip. He had never told Michael about the Fears. He wanted to, god he wanted to, but telling someone about the Dread Powers only drew their attention. Michael believed in the supernatural, but he had no idea about the Powers or the rituals, and Gerry wanted to keep it that way. He wanted Michael safe above all.
“What statement?” he said eventually. “What statement are you researching?”
“Um, she didn’t say? Something about a door-”
“See!” Gerry threw his hands up. “She won’t even tell you the statement! She’s planning something, Michael.”
“No she isn’t!” Michael burst out. “Gertrude Robinson is a sweet, harmless old woman and I don’t understand why you hate her so much!”
“She’s dangerous, M. She’s not who you think she is.”
“Oh my God, Gerry!” Michael dragged a hand down his face. “You’re so distrustful! Not everyone is out to get you!”
“Can you blame me?” Gerry said softly.
The fight rushed out of them both. Michael pulled Gerry into an embrace, his hand smoothing circles into the other’s back. “Oh, Gerbear. I’ll be okay. I promise.”
Gerry trembled. His tears seeped into Michael’s shirt. “I can’t lose you, M. You’re all I have.”
“I know, baby. I know.”
—
Later, when they were in bed, Michael’s head pillowed against Gerry’s chest, Michael said, “It’s only for a couple days. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Gerry stayed silent. Michael sighed. “I can’t just not go, Gerry. I might lose my job.”
“No, you won’t. You’re the only one keeping those archives together.”
“Still.”
“No, you’re right. Gertrude won’t get off your ass about it until you go. It’s probably just research, anyways.”
Michael smiled. His smiles always quirked up at one end, making them lopsided. Gerry loved it. “Well, if you miss me…at least you have this blanket to cuddle with when you get lonely.” He gestured to the ugly thrift-store blanket they were curled up in.
“Whatever would I do without it?” Gerry deadpanned. They stared at each other for a minute before bursting into laughter.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Michael said once they calmed down. “I’ll be just fine.”
Gerry didn’t respond. But after a few minutes, he began to sing. It was an old song, from deep in his memory, a remnant from the days of his early childhood when Mary was feeling a bit more indulgent than usual. He didn’t sing it well, but he sang it with love, and that’s all that mattered to Michael.
“You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are grey
You’ll never know, dear
How much I love you
Please don’t take my sunshine away…”
—
“You have your phone?”
“Yes.”
“And your winter clothes?”
“Yep.”
“And your-”
“Gerbear, I promise I’ve got everything. Who knew you were such a mother hen under all the spikes and makeup?”
Gerry pursed his lips. They were at the dock with Gertrude, waiting for the ship that would take Michael to Russia. “I just worry, okay?”
Michael dropped a kiss on Gerry’s cheek. “I know. It’s very sweet.” Gerry grumbled.
“Oh, don’t be like that. It’s just for a week. You’ll be so busy artefact-hunting you won’t even notice I’m gone.”
“Yeah, but- oh, hang on.” Gerry’s phone chimed. Someone had just posted a “haunted book” on Ebay. Normally, Gerry wouldn’t bother bidding on it until he got home, but the listing specifically mentioned a weird bookplate, and some of the bidders Gerry recognized as undercover Lightless Flame cultists. Shit. He could probably beat the cultists to the book without even bidding (the seller had put their address on the listing, like an idiot), but he’d have to go now. Which meant he wouldn’t be able to see Michael off. Gerry hesitated.
Michael smiled knowingly. “I’ll be fine here. Go save the world.” He kissed Gerry sweetly.
“Yeah, alright. Have…have fun, I guess. Be safe!”
“I always am!”
Gerry set off running. If he hurried, he could be in and out before the cultists even got there.
He didn’t turn back to the dock. If he had, he might have seen the Tundra emerge from the fog, as if lying in wait.
—
Michael came back today. Gerry was relieved, to say the least.
Maybe he would have been less worried if it weren’t for the fact that, while in Russia, Michael hadn’t responded to a single one of Gerry’s texts. Or calls. Or the two emails he’d sent out of desperation.
It was probably nothing. Maybe the reception in Russia was just shit. Regardless, Gerry knew a weight would be lifted with Michael home.
It was 3:30. If the ship hadn’t already docked, it was at least in close enough range that a text to Michael should go through.
bookburner: hey
bookburner: lmk when you dock
Gerry waited five minutes. And then five more. And then five more.
Radio silence.
No big deal. Gerry could just call him.
Hi! You’ve reached Michael Shelley…
It was fine. His phone was probably dead. Gerry ignored his sinking stomach. He’d just go and meet Michael at his flat.
Gerry had been given the key to Michael’s flat months and months ago, but he had never needed to use it before. Michael always let him in.
Gerry’s hands shook as he slid the key in the lock.
The flat was clearly deserted. Everything was just as Michael had left it a week ago. It was fine. Gerry would just wait for Michael to get here.
He wandered into the bedroom. He hadn’t slept last night, and he was dead tired. Might as well take a nap while he waited. He took off his combat boots and curled up under Michael’s ugly patterned blanket. It still smelled faintly of bubblegum shampoo.
Gerry fell asleep.
—
When he awoke, he immediately knew something was wrong. It was night. Gerry crawled out of bed and looked around, already knowing what he’d find. Nothing. No one. The day was over and Michael still wasn’t home.
Gerry should have known something wasn’t right. Michael always answered his phone, especially for Gerry.
Gertrude had done something