Chapter Text
Ray wakes up seven times during the night until he gives up on sleep, tossing the covers off and grabbing his battered old electric guitar. Plugging in his headphones, he plays to himself until the stars fade and the sun comes up to chase the shadows from his room. The ones on his face stubbornly remain though, and he resigns himself to a day on caffeine and starts to seriously consider asking for help.
He can go a long time without a decent night's sleep, can live quite happily on just four hours a night sometimes, but it has been so long since he got even that much he can't remember what it feels like, can't feel anything but the ache in his bones and the lead in his eyes.
Blowing out a long sigh, Ray rubs his eyes and heads through to the shower. The tiredness will fade as the day goes on and he will be fine as soon as he gets moving. Hot water, hot coffee, and he will be fine.
*********************************
Mikey Way is feeling... Odd. A little spacey. A little... stretched. Closing his eyes, he fumbles his phone to switch off the alarm and groans, throwing his arm over his head. It's weird, normally after an effort like the night before he would have a headache, the pain almost as familiar to him as his breathing, but today there's nothing. He's tired, hell yeah, his body melted into the mattress and not wanting to peel itself away, but his head-
There's no pain. The static of the world is still there, a little muted but at the same time somehow clearer. Like the volume has been lowered but the reception has improved. He can also feel the others, can feel Ray's tiredness, a flash of surprise and maybe glee from Bob, the strange murmur of dreams from Frank, even Gerard is there, just a heartbeat, no thoughts at all, but a presence in his mind where there used to be just a blank spot. It's as though he has been levelled up in a video game, his control suddenly greater, sharper.
It's bizarre, like when the optician changes his glasses and the world shifts around him, his body adjusting to new blind spots, new areas of sharpness. It's better but weird, confusing, and when he tries to sit up, his head spins, the room shifting around him. He feels drugged, drunk, not quite himself. It's not the first time he's felt like this but it's been months since he's had an 'episode' as his mom calls them, and this is the first time it hasn't been accompanied by the migraine of doom.
Groaning low in his throat, Mikey burrows back under the covers and pulls his cell in after him. Pain he can handle, easy peasy pumpkin peasy, no problem at all, but feeling like he's (quite literally) out of his mind? There's no way he should be dealing with steam and hot liquids today. Texting his boss, he tosses the phone back onto the floor and rests his head back on the pillow. Another couple of hours sleep should do the trick...
**********************************
Bob Bryar wakes up slowly, the light peeking in through the gap in the drapes shining directly onto his face and pulling him from sleep. Growling, he shifts, trying to block it with his covers by his head but he doesn't like sleeping with his face covered and can't seem to find the right angle.
“Fucking curtains.” Waving his hand at the window distractedly, he rolls over again.
The crash as the curtain pole falls to the floor, ripped clean off the wall, makes him bolt upright in bed, breathing hard as he stares at the wall. Huh. Usually he has to think really hard just to get them to pull across an inch or two. That time he wasn't even concentrating, just vaguely wanting the sunlight to go away.
Which, of course, it hasn't. In fact, it's much, much worse. Holding out his hand, he focuses on the pole and can't help grinning as it rises steadily back off the floor, wavering a little before levelling out and moving back to the wall, the screws returning with gritty complaints to their holes. It's shaky as Hell, and won't stay up for very long, pretty much until anyone touches the drapes again, but it's in place. He can even feel the screws twisting, digging in for whatever traction they can get, reburying themselves in the wall.
Letting out a laugh of surprise, Bob lowers his hand, the darkness solid again. That was pretty cool.
And as a bonus, he can now get some more sleep until he needs to head into the garage.
**************************
Gerard makes it into work just fine, no problems.
Mostly.
Okay, so he's ten minutes late opening, but nobody actually turns up for another half hour, long enough for him to set up a life support system of coffee in the back room and sneak out into the alley for a much needed hit of nicotine.
The online orders are less fun when he checks them; he's made a couple of mistakes that Charlie is gonna dock his wages for if he's not careful. Hastily arranging the redeliveries and returns, he heads back out into the shop and grins as his first customers come in.
It's just regulars, a kid from the junior high with a flush of acne along his jaw and a love of Marvel, and Mrs Geere from the elementary school. She is probably one of Gerard's favourite customers, if only because not only is she a fan of DC, he knows full well every comic she buys goes into a special library in her classroom and is lent out to pupils with an interest but without the money to keep up with a whole collection.
Nodding to them, he hugs his coffee as he watches them browse, then hesitates as he notices something he hasn't spotted before. It's a smear on her arm, just a tiny spot of darkness, disrupting the line of her light. It's so clear though, so sharp, he can't believe he hasn't spotted it before. Before he can stop himself, the mug is abandoned on the counter and he's gliding between the racks and reaching out to touch her arm. Her jacket is thick but that doesn't matter, not any more, he can feel through it-
“Gerard? Are you okay?”
Nodding quickly, he backs up, running a hand through his hair. Shit. Shit. “Sorry, I just, you had something on your arm.”
Laughing, she twists, looking at her sleeve and rubbing her other hand over it. “Probably poster paint again, did you get it?”
“I, uh-” He watches as she slips off her coat and drapes it over the racks, rolling her eyes at the flecks of paint on the sleeve.
“Ugh, I really need to give this a proper brush off.”
It's when she reaches out, her jumper sleeve riding up a little, that he spots it. The darkness in her aura is matched by a dark patch on her skin. He can't help it, even as he tries to hold back, he's reaching out and pressing a finger to the mole, feeling the flare of his energy flowing through and forcing the darkness away again instinctively.
“Gerard?” She isn't freaked, not really, but the look on her face is definitely questioning why the fuck he just touched her and with good reason really. Tactile as he is amongst his friends, Gerard is usually pretty careful to keep his hands to himself in public, the urge to heal every little injury so distracting they start to wander unless he holds himself in tight.
So, yeah, the look she's giving him is definitely warranted, and his brain is starting to point out that he's just standing there, with his fucking finger still pressed against her arm and oh God what the fuck are you doing you asshole?
“You should,” he starts quickly, throwing on an apologetic smile and pulling his hand back. “Uh, that mole, you should get it checked out.”
Laughing at last, she picks up her coat and regards him sceptically. “Okay, who put you up to this? Did Sally ask you to nag me?” Smiling, she shrugs her coat back on and reaches out to ruffle his hair. “Nice try Gerard, you're a good kid but subtle as a brick. And I know, I know I should, and I will. I just haven't had the time.”
“You... You should.” Gerard manages, forcing himself to step away again. “And uh, sorry, should've known you would see through me.” Grinning as much as he can manage, he backs away until he is behind the counter and hiding behind his coffee mug again. His fingers are shaking though and it takes most of the mug and a few minutes of deep breathing to calm down again.
It was cancerous. He is absolutely certain, it had been skin cancer. And he had seen it... Fuck, he had certainly never been able to detect that before, at least not before it was a Hell of a lot bigger, and definitely not in time to be able to do anything about it.
But he had this time. He was sure of it, he could see that it was fading, still a smudge but nowhere as dark, the attack dying out before it could spread any further, the pulse of it dying down to a dead, dark spot.
Swallowing his coffee, Gerard ducks behind the curtain and sinks down onto his stool gratefully, staring at his hands in disbelief. That was... That was insane.
Stifling a laugh, Gerard claps a hand over his mouth to try and hold back the grin. That was awesome.
******************************************
Frank stretches back to consciousness after a solid twelve hours sleep, feeling – there is no other word for it. Awesome.
Or just maybe there is another word, Frank thinks, as the delicious drag of his covers over his morning wood sends a shiver through him. Horny.
The exhaustion long gone, Frank just luxuriates in the comfort of his bed, his mind slowly reminding him that it's Saturday, he doesn't have to go anywhere, not for hours. Or maybe even at all, in fact – they hadn't exactly made plans beyond last night, the exorcism taking all their attention.
Linking his hands behind his head, Frank closes his eyes and grins at the memory. Everything after her leaving is a blur, but before that, the feeling... It makes him wonder if that is how Mikey feels, the connection to others running through him. It had been amazing, as though he was being filled with energy from his friends, from William, even from the girl herself. He could still feel them all in his skin somehow, Gee's love and protection, Ray's gentle wisdom and compassion, Mikey's patience and fortitude, even Bob's gruff strength and hidden loyalty running through his veins still.
And he'd thought sex with Gerard was intimate. This, that feeling last night, is a whole new level and yet not sexual at all, just... right.
“It's guy love, that's all it is,” Frank sings to himself before dissolving into giggles. He feels ridiculously happy, high even, and stretches again before sliding one hand back under the covers. After all, it's not like he doesn't have the time. A little fun, quick shower, some breakfast...
And then perhaps he might go see Gerard.
************************************
Gerard makes it to midday but only just, sighing with relief as he sticks up a “back in fifteen minutes” sign on the door, complete with Back to the Future Delorean on it. Eating at the counter, or behind his curtain, whilst the shop is open is fine but even he needs a quick break sometimes. He heats up some soup in the microwave whilst he uses the small bathroom, taking a minute to splash cold water over his face to try and wake up a bit more, and makes a beeline for the small back door and fresh air.
It's cold outside, getting bitter again, and bites through his thin layers but he won't be out here for long and contents himself with a scarf and pair of fingerless gloves to stave the worst of it off long enough to light up. The cigarette is warming and soothes an itch, even as he feels the slight smudge of its bad effects on his body. It takes only a moment to whisk the worst of it off, even as he feels a little guilty at indulging in such a bad habit without taking the same risks as everyone else.
Then again, there have to be some perks of being a Witch.
Inhaling deeply, he blows it out and leans back against the wall, letting his eyes close as his head tilts up to face the cloud filled sky.
A soft, low, whistle gets his attention but he doesn't turn, just lets a smile curve over his lips as a familiar surge of energy approaches.
“You know, I'm sure I've seen a porno that starts like this,” Frank calls softly, stalking his way over to Gerard with two huge paper cups in his hands.
“You've already used that line last night, Iero. You're slipping.” Opening his eyes, Gerard twists to look but doesn't move from the wall, just contenting himself to look. Frank looks better than he has for days, his eyes bright and body moving with a contented ease, but more than that his aura is bright and pure, no signs of the slow exhaustion that has been eating away at him since getting his powers.
Frank's dressed warmly, what looks like two different hoodies on and pulled up over his head, his pants for once intact across the knees and without the usual tears and damage from his habits of throwing himself around with complete disregard for sharp edges, floors, or brick walls. His gloves are fingerless too, wrapped around the cups with just the white tips of his fingers peeking through, and they bear skeleton imprints. Gerard grins wider as he recognises them as coming from the Halloween box that they keep for the Haunted House. Except he is pretty sure they weren't fingerless to start with.
Not to mention he's pretty sure that one of the hoodies is his too.
“What is it with you and stealing my clothes?”
Grinning back, Frank shrugs and hands him one of the coffees, leaning in close as he does so. As Gerard takes it and frees his hand, Frank steals his cigarette and takes a drag. He doesn't move back, instead crowding Gerard against the wall as he blows the smoke out slowly.
“Maybe I just like having you next to my skin. Hope that's not gonna be a problem for you.”
Laughing, Gerard steals back his cigarette and taps the stray ash off, rolling his eyes. “Okay, enough with the cheesy porno lines.” Turning serious, his smile fades to a small, gentle curl as he regards Frank carefully. “How are you feeling, I mean, you were pretty dead on your feet last night. Hell, we all were really.”
“All the better for seeing you,” Frank smirks, slipping his coffee onto the small ledge just inside the shop door and wrapping his arms around Gerard's waist. Gerard's coffee almost spills at the move, his arms stretching out on instinct to try and avoid burning Frank with either the coffee or the cigarette, even as he laughs again. Stretching back to put his coffee beside Frank's, and leaving one arm outstretched with the cigarette a safe distance, he wraps the other around Frank as best he can in an awkward hug.
“Seriously, what the fuck Frankie? Not that I'm not pleased to see you too, but- Frank!” Gerard cries out and bucks away as Frank's hand slips down to grab his ass. “Stop that, I'm supposed to be working!”
“Everyone deserves a break,” Frank murmurs against Gerard's jaw, kissing his way across it. “I'll be quick, promise.”
Twisting his way out of Frank's arms easily, a slight flare of blue pushing Frank back, Gerard stumbles to the side and stubs out the cigarette quickly, tossing it into an overflowing ashtray outside the door. “No. Not here, not... What's gotten into you?”
Shrugging, Frank leans back against the wall lazily. “It's not like it's nothing we haven't done before. Just thought I'd share my good mood with you, that's all. But if you don't want me-”
Frank grins as Gerard quickly grabs his arm, not too tight, just reassuring and holding him in place. “I always want you, I just... Not here. And not... I'm feeling a little out of sorts after last night and just...”
Frank's grin turns wolfish as he slips his way back into Gerard's space, tilting his head to the side to regard him. “Last night was... I can still feel you, you know,” Frank whispers, wrapping his fingers through Gerard's and bringing their joined hands up between them, fisted against his chest. “Inside. Under my skin, making me feel like I can do anything, like I'm invincible. I don't know how you handle it, so much power. It's incredible.”
Frowning slightly, Gerard tightens his grip on Frank's arm, holding his hand firmly. “You felt that? How? I mean, is that supposed to happen?”
“I dunno,” Frank admits, raising one eyebrow. “It's not like last night wasn't my first time too. I just know how I feel and I feel fucking amazing. Can't you tell?” Twisting, Frank untucks his fingers from Gerard's and places Gerard's hand flat against his chest. “Can you feel me?”
Swallowing hard, Gerard nods, flushing as he tries not to notice just how close Frank is, how much he wants him. “Always.”
“Good.” Frank keeps on grinning as he steps back, moving away and reaching for his coffee again and taking a long, slow sip. “Then maybe we can meet up later, find somewhere to go, somewhere nice and quiet...”
Nodding in spite of himself, Gerard grabs his coffee too and gulps some down, welcoming the distracting heat and bitterness of it. It's good, it's a good coffee, but it's not quite right. Glancing at it, he looks at Frank's.
“I think I got yours.”
Shaking his head, Frank frowns a little, his smile fading at last. “Nope, this is definitely mine. What's wrong with yours?”
“I don't know, it's just, I guess Mikey must have missed something out.”
“Oh, mystery solved then, it wasn't Mikey, it was that Jimmy guy. Mikey isn't there.”
“He's supposed to be,” Gerard frowns, patting down his pockets for his phone. “Why wouldn't he go in?”
“Maybe he is still tired from last night, doesn't he usually crash after heavy shit?” Shrugging, Frank finishes his coffee, flicking the lid off with a practised nudge of his thumb to get the last dregs out. “Sure he's fine.”
“Yeah, I guess...” Gerard hesitates, checking his phone for messages before putting it away again. “I just... I've been feeling a little weird today, like, I dunno, something's changed. Earlier I, it was more powerful than before, my skills I could-”
“I'm sure it's nothing to worry about,” Frank cuts him off, crunching up the cup with a sigh. “Look, if you're so keen to get back to work I'll catch you later I guess.” Tossing the empty into the bins in the alley, he starts to turn on his heel only for Gerard to snag his arm.
“Frankie, don't be like that, what's gotten into you today?”
“I just wanted to spend time with my so called boyfriend, okay?” Frank snaps, pushing him away again. “I feel like I'm coming out of my skin here, like I can smell you on me, like I can feel your eyes on me even when I'm alone.”
He can't meet Gerard's gaze, can't let on just how much his fingers are aching to just reach out and grab him, spin him round and force him against the wall and take him just to get the release, to try and get rid of the building pressure under his skin. It's gone from being a pleasant hum of contentment to being an all out craving, a need that's driving him crazy.
“Frank,” Gerard sighs softly and pulls him back, tucking him into a tight embrace, burying his nose in Frank's hair. “Fuck, I guess we have been a bit distracted lately huh?”
“No shit,” Frank mutters, burying himself in Gerard's scent, nuzzling at his skin as best he can through the layers of clothing covering his chest. “I just... Last night was incredible and I could feel you so clearly and I want, I just want-” Breaking off, he kisses up Gerard's jaw, ignoring the faint scratch of stubble (very faint, but hey, even Gerard can get a light dusting sometimes even if it's not as much as Frank gets in the same timescale). “I need...”
“W-What do you need?” Gerard asks at last, coffee long forgotten and dropping to the alley floor with a splat, unnoticed by either of them.
“You...”
Groaning loudly, Gerard runs his fingers through his hair and glances around the alley guiltily, as though expecting an army from the Westboro Baptist Church to suddenly appear at any second. Whether they would hate him more for the witchcraft, the gay, or just being an actual human being is debatable but then Frank's palm rubbing against his crotch pushes all such thoughts away. “You're fucking killing me here Frankie.”
“What do you think you're doing to me, Gee?” Frank whispers back and just like that Gerard's willpowers tucks its tail between its legs and skitters off into the distance.
“Charlie's going to kill me,” Gerard mutters, but then all thoughts of Charlie slip out of his mind as he fists his hand in Frank's (stolen) hoodie and drags him back into the shop, the door slamming shut behind them.
And his lunch break definitely takes longer than fifteen minutes...
********************************************************
Charlie doesn't kill Gerard, but his pay check most definitely gets docked – or, more accurately as that wouldn't exactly be fair, Charlie instead refuses to reimburse him for the paint he's using on Counsellor Troi. Which isn't so bad, and does just about equate to the cost of reshipping the orders he's fucked up. Or will be if he can ever master 'sultry gazing right at you ' eyes instead of 'creepy house of horror follow you round the room eyes'. It's not like he's had much practice with the former.
Still, by the time he's finished being reamed out for the wrong orders, and for shutting the shop for too long over lunchtime (and if he ever finds out who told, they are so getting their next comic 'accidentally' torn as he bags it), Gerard is exhausted again and can't wait to get out of there and see Frank.
Which doesn't happen as Frank's mom is, to put it mildly, still pissed with him. His ass is so grounded that he may as well have been chained to his bed – something he has thought about from time to time, but never with his mom in the picture. So after an apology text to Gerard, Frank resigns himself to Saturday night TV with her and a long talk about respect being earned and underestimating his powers and just because he got away with it this time doesn't mean he will always be so lucky, yadda yadda...
Still, the tingle in his skin is fading slowly but the memory of it remains, the feeling so unlike anything he's ever experienced. It can't have ever felt like this to her or she wouldn't have given it up, and yeah, he can feel the pull of it demanding he do it again and again, but just because she couldn't handle it doesn't mean he can't. She was alone, he has Gerard and the guys to keep him grounded. He can handle it.
And maybe next time it might last longer or at least he can time it for when he and Gerard can explore the after effects properly. In the interests of science of course.
Mikey sleeps most of the day, emerging at sunset with a jaw cracking yawn and still clear head. It's strange, the house silent but he can feel the traces of voices as though through an open window. They are soft still, less overwhelming, and for the first time in over a year Mikey feels like he can deal with this, that maybe he is strong enough to cope without his brother as a safety net. That maybe when he graduates he actually has a choice over what happens next, that he isn't tied to this town, to this life, to Gerard, forever.
Not that that would necessarily be a bad thing, Mikey loves him and all that, but he loves his folks too and doesn't want to live with them forever either.
Ray doesn't sleep, but he can still feel the nightmares at the edge of his eyes, lurking behind his lashes with every blink. By the time evening comes around he is almost dead on his sleep and, as much as he hates to resort to it, he swallows a couple of sleeping pills to take the edge off and help him get some sleep. They help him drift off, but the nightmares swallow him whole still, trapping him within them until the sunlight returns.
Bob finishes his shift at the garage and locks up with a whistle on his lips as he heads home, his 'home' tools and new fittings for drapes in the passenger seat. It's been a pretty good day, the work easy, his dad in a great mood, and generally life is good.