FicWad

Note to xXLaylaXx-Katlyn was/possibly still is Bob’s girlfriend/wife/partner.

Statements I concur with are in bold, just sayin

xo lorna

First of the Gang to Die
Sessantanove
Fairytale of New York

Frank awoke to two gentle sounds the morning of the twenty fourth; the rain pounding against the sturdy windows of the Ritz-Carlton, and his husband’s breathing.

Iero noticed with slightly surprised glee that he was wrapped up in Gerard’s arms, lying on their sides, his head tucked underneath the gangster’s chin. According to the gold watch on the tableside next to him, it was five minutes to seven. If the boy remembered right, they had gone to bed at around midnight, and the dull pounding of the punk rock club of the night two weeks before still pulsated a steady, sexy beat in his head.

The curtains were swept shut but he could feel the steady vibrations of the precipitation gushing against the glass. He grinned and snuggled against the chest opposite him again-this was cuddle weather. It was now his very own right to warp and bully Gerard into being another, as he so eloquently put it, “nancy boy.”

He flicked open his eyes fully, slightly groggy and fazed from the doze, and laughed quietly when he saw Gerard snoozing softly, his ribcage rising and falling as his breaths suckered in. His forehead was slightly creased, his brow furrowed together like he was troubled. Frank leaned into him and let their lips press together. The rabbit bit his lip and giggled as Gerard cracked his working eye open.

“Ugggh,” he groaned, yawning. “Sleeping.” The green slid shut again.

“Good morning Gee,” he chirped, kissing him again. He didn’t know why he was so upbeat-he never woke up this early at home. “Wake uuuuuup, Gee.” Frank pressed himself right up to the boss, and a hand pressed firmly into the small of his back, rings soothing his skin with cool, metallic aid. “I wanna snuggle.”

“You wanna, huh?” The New Jersey native questioned lazily, barely stretching muscles around his mouth. “C’mere, baby, come lie with me.”

Frank was pulled onto his stomach, now facing upwards, so that his ear was pressed to Gerard’s bare chest. He could hear the drawn thumps of his ticker, soft bleats emerging from his ribcage. Two hands cupped Frank’s ass lightly as his own lay on his husband’s muscular arms.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, honey.” He yawned, and the boy took note that one of his fingers nudged his entrance, the tender area only Way was allowed access to. “Ask whatever you want.”

“What age were you when you lost your virginity?” He had always wondered this question-Gerard had never exactly said he himself was abstinent, but that he would appreciate the twenty four year old’s participation. “When you had sex for the first time.”

“I’m aware of the meaning, babe.”

“Oh.” He blushed. “Sorry.”

“It’s no problem, doll, no problem.” He screwed his eyes shut and concentrated. “I engaged in sexual relations for the first time when I was...eighteen, I believe. Evan.” He cackled. “God, it was so awkward.”

“Was he good?”

“Good?” Another harsh laugh. For some reason-and Frank didn’t understand this, as he was normally such a polite and gentle soul-he found himself happy with the fact Gerard resented his ex. “When you’re that age nothing is good, you just fool around and do shit so you can talk about the next day. God, I remember our dirty talk.” He clapped a hand over his forehead. “I was so bad I could only go, ‘er, yeah, okay, thanks’. You can’t be sexy when you’re that age. Just painfully awkward.”

“So...you weren’t a virgin when you got married?”

“No.” He shook his head, and his finger dug a little deeper, jus testing Frank. The boy remained steady. “I am technically allowed to do as I please, since I am Don.”

“You don’t believe in abstinence?”

“Not exactly, no.” Gerard pushed his digit further in, and a quiet moan escaped the mouth. “But I think you should lose your virginity to someone you would be prepared to marry.” He opened his eyes-the cherry and the celery. “Why? Do you?”

“Well...I don’t know,” he said quietly, and one hand had travelled up to stroke his hair-the other still poised at his band of muscle. “I would have liked to lose my virginity to you, even if you had done it before. So I could be yours properly, not just...” his lip trembled. Tender kisses dressed his scalp. “Not just a slut who’s been fucked by every guy in the Romano family.” He snuffled. “Some fucking whore.”

“Bunny rabbit,” Gerard cooed, hugging him tightly, and his hand moved away from the boy’s entrance. “Don’t say anything like that, baby, you’re not something horrible like that, you got taken advantage of.” Frank hiccupped and suckled on his bottom lip. “You’re mine, darling, all mine. Poor kitty. Don’t be upset, honey. I know you get het up about being nervous, pet, but there’s no need to be. You know you’re my world, baby.”

Frank nodded.

“Do you have any specific plans for today?” Gerard asked him. “Speaking of which, may I ask what you have bought so far?”

“Make up, clothes, more clothes, food, stuff for Luciana...” he trailed off, twirling his finger along the curves and bumps of Gerard’s chest.

“May I ask what sort of clothes?”

“I got like shirts and trousers and shoes and stuff, y’know, stuff for the gang and whatever. And make up and food.” He glowed a little, ducking his head. “And really tight pants for me to wear...around you.”

Gerard smirked. “How tight are they, babe?”

“Let’s just say it doesn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination, Gee.”

“Good boy,” was the answer. Then: “Jesus, I’m starving.”

“We have breakfast in like half an hour, Gerard.” The gangster sat up, white tufts standing to attention, and tugged a black shirt over his head. Frank followed, now lightly resting on his thighs. “Can you wait?”

“No.” His stomach groaned, and he, in turn, let his jaw drop and pointed inside his mouth. “Gerard hungry. Need food. Now.”

“For me or for food?”

“I’m always hungry for you, sugar, but I could do with some nourishment right about now.” His grin was cheeky and unashamed. “Some sugar, to be exact.”

“We got chocolate yesterday,” Frank offered, and the killer nodded vigorously. “We could eat that.”

“Well, go on then. Feed me.”

Frank attempted to shift and get up, but his husband had a firm grasp of his hips. The boy pouted.

“I can’t until you let me get off you, Gerard,” he snapped childishly, and the spoken to laughed warmly, showing all his teeth. “My arm isn’t like four foot long.”

“What?” He asked sweetly. “The same height as you?”

Frank bashed him with a pillow as he shook with laughter, and took the opportunity to roll off the bed and attend to the selection of candy that had been purchased the previous day. He smirked when he realized what a golden moment this was to seize-he was fully naked, and he bent over, giving Gerard a close-up of his ass.

“Hmm, I wonder where it is,” Frank said aloud, smirking as he heard his husband mutter cusses under his breath. “Oh...maybe here...God, the bag is packed so tight, Gee, I can barely get my hand in it-“

“Frank. Get over here. Now.”

The twenty four year old stood up, a bar of Cadbury’s in hand, and crawled up the bed. When he reached Gerard, insane with lust, he cracked open the candy and broke off a square. The boss watched him intently, serious and stern.

Frank placed the chocolate on his tongue and let it melt ever so slowly, so tantalizing and soft to the feel. Velvety brown oozed over the light pink and slipped down his throat.

Gerard attacked him, pushing him onto the bed.

“Fucking God, Iero, you do not tease me like that ever again, you understand?” His rabbit giggled and swallowed the molten lump in his mouth. “Jesus, you are so fucking sexy, I just wanna-“

“What, Gee?” He lisped, an inch from his lips. “What do you want to do to me?”

Gerard growled again, giving in temptation, and flipped Frank over, now laying on his stomach. He leaned over the boy and sucked between his shoulder blades, the kid gasping and moaning, burying his head in the sheets.

“Gerarrrrd,” he whinged, bucking. “Do it now.”

“Oh fuck, Frankie,” he muttered in his ear. “You are so fuckable right now.” He shook his head. “All the goddamn time.”

“Ride me, Gee,” he said weakly, coughing. “My chest hurts and I want to feel better.” He sniffed, tears nearly coming. “Make me feel good, Gerard. I’m your bunny and you give me whatever I want. You’re always so good to me. Please do it, Gee. I want you.”

Way sucked in a huge gasp of breath.

“Oh baby,” he purred, spreading Frank’s cheeks wide open and poising himself at the ready. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

He suddenly rammed into him, hitting Frank’s prostate on the very first go, a guttural scream falling from the boy’s lips and, indeed, improving his feelings dramatically. Gerard continued to thrust and pound, his husband underneath him writhing and groaning with pleasure. The gangster smiled, kissed his hair, and collapsed again.

“Thanks,” Frank panted.

“No problem,” came the reply. Gerard pulled his husband over to straddle his thighs. “You looking forward to going home today?”

“I’m really gonna miss London,” Frank said, tracing circles on his husband’s pectoral muscles. “ But I can’t wait to see Luciana again. I feel bad just leaving her for two weeks. I mean, I know she’s in good hands with Bob and Kat and stuff, but...” he sighed. “I really miss her, Gerard.”

“You sound like her mother.”

“Shut up!” He scolded, and the other chuckled. “Anyway, I don’t mind looking after her. It’s fun, since our chances of having kids are pretty slim.”

“Try impossible, baby.” He shut his eyes again and licked his husband’s ear. “You’re wonderful with her, Frank, thank you. She adores you.”

“I know,” he replied happily. “The way she calls me Franco is so cute.”

“Indeed. And I think she needs some new books.” He rolled his eyes. “The only one my father gave her was The Bible. Like that’s a valuable account.”

“Can she...read?”

“Of course she can. She can talk as well as I can.” He rubbed his eye-sockets and yawned again. “I’d love for her to grow up and be some sort of academic or something, but my father probably brainwashed her already.”

“She wants to be Donna,” Frank said quietly, tracing Gerard’s lips. The older man sighed. “She said she wants to be head of the Famiglia-like you-and not of the Brigata.”

“I’m sure she does,” the killer replied. “I walked into her and the Romano children having a fight when we had her friends around. She was standing her ground and telling them to step off and be polite.”

Frank giggled.

“She’s like you. She reminds me of you every time I look at her.” He laughed again and closed his eyes. “She’s so polite and posh, and calm and stuff. But then she’s got this weird little humour complex like you, where she goes from being all respectful to being crazy.”

“Can’t explain the pride, eh?” Gerard joked. “Gimme the chocolate, will ya? Fricking starving.”

Frank handed the purple box to his husband, who instantly ripped it open and began tearing at the chocolate. The boy lay against him, kissing his jaw every so often, nibbling at the food.

“You’ve got chocolate on your face,” he pointed out, licking Way’s cheek. His lip slipped into a plush pout. “This was so great, Gerard. Just two weeks of you and me.”Fingers found each other. “Love you.”

“I love you, baby.” Gerard said, stroking the soft white flesh covering Frank’s chest and midriff, letting the tip of his finger trail the inside of his navel. “I’m glad you had a nice time. I thought it was awesome too.”

Gerard noticed the hazel orbs had slid to the window, where a louder, blunter thud was shocking the windows. It was snowing. Frank’s beam widened.

“Happy Christmas,Gerard.”



Luciana Way sat patiently in her seat as she listened to Signora Greco drone on about cubism spreading in Europe throughout the current twentieth century. She normally listened intently during Art, her favourite subject, but today her mind was astray. Gerard and Frank would be returning home today...she missed her uncle and his husband respectively.

“Luciana?” Her tutor questioned sharply. “Luciana! What did I just say?”

whenever a teacher springs this one on me I just vamp like in geography once my teacher was like

"LORNAIGH WHAT WE WERE JUST DISCUSSING IN GREAT LENGTH AND DETAIL"

and I just went

"GEOGRAPHICAL HARDSHIP IN THE HEART OF SOUTHERN AND WESTERN AFRICA FOCUSING MAINLY ON MALI AND CHAD AND THE SUPERVISING TIED AID FORCED ON THEM BY WEALTHY FIRST WORLD COUNTRIES"

and she was like

"em...it was actually what we did during summer break but okay then"

The six year old looked guiltily to the middle-aged Italian. Greco’s shaped black brow raised at her suspiciously.

“Uh...” she glanced at the notes she had taken throughout the whole lesson. “Something about...Picasso?”

“What about Picasso?”

“Umm...” her eyes swept along one line in her textbook splayed open in front of her. “How he went through the Blue, the Rose and then the African tribal influence periods.” She smiled politely, yet triumphant.

The teacher narrowed her eyes and scowled.

“Well...I...pay attention,” she said curtly, sniffing. Then she glanced at the over-head clock; thank God, it was seven. “Our class has ended. Your homework is pages eighty nine to ninety four to read about surrealism. Do the questions on his techniques and make sure you have the essay due on his political views completed by the time we return after the holidays.” She neatly folded her glasses and placed them in a solid black case. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, Signora,” Luciana said faithfully, writing down her homework. “Happy Christmas, Signora.”

“Many happy returns,” the woman said, standing up, long skirt swishing the floor, bundling books into her arms. “Tell Don de la Via I pass on my regards.”

“Yes, Signora.” The girl stood up, pushing her textbooks and copies into the drawer nearby.

“Oh...and Luciana?” The woman said as she opened the door.

“Yes?”

“The day I return I want to see you in a skirt,” Signora Greco ordered. “Slacks and braces are not suitable for a young girl. You look like a slut.”

Way frowned a little.

“No, I don’t. I asked Don de la Via and he doesn’t mind, so I don’t look common.” She continued to gaze sternly at her tutor. “I’m respectful all the time. It’s horrible to say that. I’ll tell my uncle that when he comes home.”

Elisa Greco’s face drained of its colour when this was uttered by the small girl.

“That is really not necessary,” she stuttered. “I really did not mean to offend-“

“Goodbye,” Luciana said lightly, smiling, stepping lithely past her to get to the kitchen. “The door is on the latch, I think.”

The teacher left the house quicky, leaving Luciana to gaze around the kitchen. She had been informed by Robert earlier that her uncle would be returning at a later hour with Frank, around ten in the evening. She had been granted permission to stay up until they returned, and she was very excited.

I know this is weird but I kinda imagine Luciana being like Matilda ya know (except in the mafia and in the thirties)

She pulled out a bag of rice, throwing on the switch and boiling the water, stepping up on a stool to stir the lump of carbohydrates round and round i the pan, the water mixing with a satisfying sizzle. She added in cuts of vegetables and meat-she was used to cooking, she didn’t mind at all. She liked it-she preferred being alone. She wasn’t sure if that was exactly normal, or if it was a subsidiary of living with her detestable grandfather. All she knew was that she liked the solitude; the independence. Within minutes the risotto was made, and she set the table neatly, lighting a candle as the night had settled in over sleepy Los Angeles.

She sat down, propping two cushions on top of the chair to tuck in. She propped up her uncle’s reading glasses on her nose and pulled a copy of today’s Los Angeles Times towards her.

5O Wealthiest Families in America, the legend proclaimed.

The girl, out of no particular interest, began to glance through the list as she chewed the rice happily. Then her small finger dotted to number two.

2; The Way Family/ AKA Famiglia de la Via

Since the late nineteenth century, the Way clan has been in one of the most heated, violent blood-feuds to ever have been recorded in the United States, in relation to do with the Italian-Ameircan Mafia. Unlike their counterpart, the Romano family (leader, Marcus Matthew Romano, see inset of Figure Eight) the Way’s have been lucrative and sly in their profits and earnings. The current leader, Gerard Arthur Way (soon to turn thirty years in April) is believed to be worth over twenty million dollars. The whereabouts of the Mafia boss are specifically unknown; some say he has returned to the Cosa home-ground of Italy, others say he is dead and has been for some time. Others say he is right here in the heart of Los Angeles, controlling this city’s every move.

Despite having been in a headlock with the Romano’s since circa eighty hundred and eighty, it seems the Way family have now become the breadwinners in the world of Italian organized crime. Way himself has yet to be caught, although records show a member of the Romano Youth movement was killed in July of this year, with the murderer’s initials carved into his dead body. (To those not in the know; Mister Way is famed for being a brutal and disgusting killer of all sorts.) The Romano family have not had such luck in the last few months-they have lost several key members and it is believed their leakages to the authorities have come from within the gang.

As it happens, Gerard Way is also the richest openly homosexual man in the country. If he were to ever be captured and brought to justice (highly unlikely in this author’s opinion) he would first be tried for his sexuality, and secondly for his crimes against humanity.

Because, as is everyone is aware, his crime against God and His Son obliterates his crimes to evil men.

Luciana withdrew from the newspaper article with duel feelings.

1. Celebration-not everyone’s family are the second wealthiest (after the Rockefellers) family in the United States.

2. Outrage-how the fuck does his sexuality beat the fact that he has killed over three thousand men? There is certainly no doubt-Gerard Way is an evil man-but not because of that.

“That’s stupid,” the girl muttered, turning the page and glancing through the daily news-two hundred people had lost their jobs in a local factory plant; the Mets beat the Yankees over in NYC, and a man who had connected to the Romano’s had escaped from Alcatraz. She gulped at the last one.

She sighed into her now empty bowl. She could never escape this-she was tied to her family. She was now and she forever would be. It wasn’t like her kin were involved in a healthy, well-meaning organization of moral beneficiary-they were in the Mafia.

The girl looked out at the city her uncle controlled.

One day, it would be hers.



Gerard and Frank arrived back at their mansion later than expected-the goddamn flight had been delayed, fuck it all. They shuffled in, exhausted, with bags and coats and assorted weapons in tow, at around ten to twelve. Gerard didn’t mind so much, although the tardiness of the plane had irritated him, but he was well aware his bunny rabbit was falling asleep, his eyelids threatening closure. They fell in the door, yawning and grumbling.

“Molfuckin pilot delayin the goddamn flight cuz a some road closure...shoulda popped a cap in his pansy ass...” Gerard muttered, rubbing his eyes and glancing at his watch. “Fuckin shit, fuckin tired...baby, you okay?”

“Wanna go to bed,” Frank yawned, stretching wide. “So...ohh...so tired.” He smiled a little hopefully. “Will you come snuggle with me?”

“Once I chat to Bob for ten minutes, I promise I will, darling,” he confirmed, accent refurbished again. They kissed slowly, carefully, and Way sucked on his lip. “Be up quickly, okay bunny?”

“Okay, Gee,” he answered, ascending the stairs. The gangster watched with satisfaction as his perfect little ass sashayed as he went up the stairs, squeaking and yawning.

Way walked into the kitchen, back cracking as he stretched. Bob, wheelchair bound for the rest of his days, looked up to the boss.

“Yo man,” he greeted, and Gerard bent to give him a one-armed hug. “Good to see ya. How was tha UK?” He laughed a little. “Nice hair.”

“Thanks,” Gerard replied, hitching up his trousers and yawning again. “It was great, really great. I trust your stay here with my niece was satisfactory.”

“Luciana’s a good kid,” the Chicago man said, and the boss nodded. “Real smart and stuff. She acts like you, sorta.”

“It’s been said.” Gerard, like Luciana with her friend a few weeks ago, noticed his buddy was troubled. “Is there...is there something wrong, Bob?” He eyed him up; the hair was unkempt, there was violet bags under his baby blue’s, he looked stressed and worn out. “I know this seems an idiotic question regarding your injury and your move back to Illinois but I-“

“Gerard.” Way was snapped out of his fancy leadership bubble by the reference of his first name. “Man, I need to talk to you one-on-one. No Mafia shit, I need your advice and your help. Please.” His voice was hoarse. “It’s real fuckin serious.”

Way nodded, eyes wide, though only one saw.

“Yeah...yeah, a course, Bob, you know it.” He pursed his lips. “Sure.”

“Just between you and me, right? You ain’t gonna tell no one?” He was afraid. Robert Corey Bryar was afraid. “It’s real private, ya know.”

“You got my word, man.” He gripped his shoulder. Bob’s eyes seemed to swell and tear up. “I won’t tell a goddamned soul.”

Bob rubbed his forehead and grimaced, sniffing. It took the twenty nine year old a few moments to realize he was crying. In all of Bob’s nine years of service Gerard had never seen him cry, even when his mother had succumbed to a brain tumour, when the blonde was only seventeen.

“Well...I don’t mean to be treadin on tender topics here but...yanno what happened to Frankie back in February or some shit?” Gerard shut his eyes-the rape. “I’m sorry man, but I just gotta ask. I know it’s hard for you and him, I’m real sorry.”

“My boy was fucking brutalized.” His tone was flat and black. “What about it?”

“I-I just-“ his voice cracked again. “The bastards fucking did it again, Gerard, they broke Kat.” He started sobbing into his hands. “They kidnapped er while she was on a raid or summat and fuckin-fuckin raped her!” Gerard put an arm around him. “They damn near fucking killed my wife!”

“Bob,” Way said in a hushed tone. “I cannot say how sorry I am.”

“I don’t deserve a goddamn thing,” Bryar said, pissed off with himself for crying. “It’s her. She won’t come out of the room or nothing, and she’s been back for two days. I told Luciana she was sick, but that girl ain’t stupid, she knows somethin is up.” Another deep snuffle. “I don’t know what to fuckin do, she don’t listen to me no more, she just stares at a spot on tha wall, shivering.”

Gerard thought deeply about the situation.

“I could ask Frank if he’d talk to her about it,” he said quietly. “Perhaps that might be a bad idea, or it might not. Whatever you think is best, Bob.”

“You think he’d do it?” The younger asked. “You think he would?”

“I think so,” the boss confirmed, hushed again. The house was extremely quiet-it would soon be Christmas Day. “He’s not very open about it but he would perhaps talk about to a fellow...” he couldn’t say the ‘R’ word. Couldn’t. “Victim.”

“I guess it could work or something.” His brow furrowed. “Those motherfucking cunts piece-a-shit rapists. That is tha fuckin lowest-o-the-low, I swear.” Gerard was silent again-if he ever got too deep into thought about his husband’s attack he would get so worked up he’d have to go punch something. “You mind if I ask you something else? Last thing, positive.”

“Yes, of course.” He nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Well...I know you ain’t one fer the whole sharin yer personal stuff with us...and by ‘us’ I mean tha men...but how’d’chu treat him afterwards? I can’t talk to Kat without her flinchin from me.”

“I’m just gentle with him,” Gerard said softly, nearly in a trance, trying to understand from Frank’s perspective. “It never quite goes away in my opinion, the fear, the vulnerability, the dependence. I just go slowly and soft-never ever make sudden movement, or sexual jokes.” He thought sadly on the pleads Iero would always pay before they engaged. “He begs me not to hurt him-and of course I never would, I’d never lay a hand on him,” he said definitely, Bob nodding. “But just...I still have to be so careful. He gets upset about it, even now, and I just hug him and tell him I adore him.” He finished calmly. “I tell him he’s the world to me and that I’d never do anything he wouldn’t like.”

“What if you wanna...” he trailed off-there was no need to continue, as Gerard understood. “And he doesn’t...y’know...want to?”

“Then you don’t,” Don de la Via said simply. “For you and Katlyn it’s different; she will now be more wary of men, because obviously...” again, no explanations were required. “But for Frank, he just fears any remote sexual contact. He is shorter and weaker than I am-and between you and me, he has had difficulties in the past, with eating disorders and such.” A sigh. “I can’t tell you it’s gonna be easy, Bob, ‘cause it’s not. But treat her with ease and a whole lotta respect about it-if she wants to talk to you, go for it, if she doesn’t, don’t press it. Lust can’t come into it.” The men’s gaze locked. “It’s her call from now on.”

Bob nodded.



“Baby? Frankie, it’s me, darling.”

The shorter answered the bedroom door, surprised to see Bob behind his husband, who he waved to, bleary red circles mooning his eyes. Frank smiled at him.

“Hey Bob.”

“Hey man,” was the cracked reply. Gerard slipped his hands in Frank’s and kissed him lightly.

“Babe, can we talk for a second?” His tone was soft and loving. “I know you’re so tired, honey, but just a minute.”

“Okay, Gee,” he replied, being pulled into the gangster’s lap, the door still open. Frank just smiled up at his husband, polite and adorable. Gerard caressed his cheek and rubbed their noses against one another-he wanted to make it as painless as possible; he didn’t like making his rabbit upset by bringing it up.

“You know I love you so much, sweetie,” he purred, and the boy nodded unassumingly. “You’re just the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“I love you too, Gee.” He nuzzled into the gangster.

“You know how I hate upsetting you, darling,” he reminded the twenty four year old. “I hate seeing you hurt and het up about things, sweetie, but I just wanna talk to you about something for a bit. Will you talk to me, baby?”

“Okay,” Iero replied. Slow horror dawned on him. His lip began to tremble and his eyes stung. “The...rape?”

“Yeah, baby,” he muttered quietly. “About that.”

The rabbit chewed his lip and began to snuffle meekly. He jumped to the wrong conclusion-he thought the day had finally come when Gerard would cease the understanding act and have a little fun.

“You promised, Gee,” his pet cried tenderly, slowly, every piece of his heart breaking. “You always said you’d never hurt me or fuck me if I didn’t wanna.” Way looked confused, and then apologetic. “Don’t do it, Gee, don’t hurt me. You always talk about being soft and-and you’re so good to me,” he whimpered. The boss put a hand to his head and felt that Frank was burning up-he got extremely stressed when situations such as these would arise. Gerard cooed to him and laid him down on the bed, leaning over him. “I’m sorry, Gerard, I’ve been a shit husband and I haven’t made you happy. But I always thought you made it so much better,” the boy squeaked, tugging at Gerard’s shirt and shaking from head-to-toe, tears streaming down his ample cheeks. “You’re always so nice to me and you snuggle with me and treat me like a pet.” He snuffled and pleaded. “I’d do anything for you, Gee. Please don’t change your mind now.”

“Baby?” Gerard traced his lip and ran a hand over his chest-his heart was positively jumping in his ribcage. “You think I’d do that, bunny? That I’d do all those horrible things to you? Of course not, darling.” The kiss they shared was ever-so-gentle; Frank was still shaking. “Poor bunny, you get so upset about it. I’ll never change my mind about you and that, baby doll. So precious to me.” He shook his head. “What do you think I was gonna do? Gang-rape you or something?”

Frank paused, and then nodded.

“Well, darling, that ain’t gonna happen.” They kissed again. “I was just wondering if you’d do something really kind for someone.”

“No...” he quivered. “No sex?”

“We ain’t gonna do nothin unless you want to,” the gangster promised in his ear. “It’s talking, baby. Y’know...the way the...others violated you?” Frank nodded again, and squeaked. “That’s what they do, sweetie, they do that as form of torture and hurt. They don’t usually do it directly to the members of the gang, mostly targeting their wives and in my case, husband.” His tone was so soft Frank had to strain to hear.

Gerard nodded ever so subtly toward the door.

“They raped Bob?”

Way looked somewhat pained.

“No, darling.” He cupped his husband’s cheek. “He’s too strong. Who do you think they would hurt to annoy Bob?”

Frank’s mouth opened just a little. Down the hall, Luciana yelped in her sleep. But then the twenty four year old stirred in Gerard’s lap and looked into both of his eyes, damaged and not.

“Kat?” The boss nodded gravely. “They did it to...Katlyn?”

A small sob came from the hall; Bob.

“Yeah, baby. That’s what Bob and I just talked about.” He looked both apologetic and humble. “They did it to Kat and now she’s really upset. She won’t talk to Bob and I presume she wouldn’t talk to me. So I’d like you to do something. Not just for me.” Their faces were inches apart. “But for them, baby doll, it’d be so utterly brilliant of you to do.”

Frank’s naturally good will sprang into action.

“I could talk to her if you like,” he murmured quietly, their hands linked. “But...on my own. I don’t...I don’t...” he struggled to find the words, and the twenty nine year old nodded.

“Course, darling. You wait here and I’ll get her.” They pressed together a little tighter. “Thank you, pet, this is so good of you. What can I do to thank you?”

“Can we sleep together tonight?” He asked in a hushed whisper. “Not...that...just...hugging.” He sniffed and continued to suck his lip. “Care for me.” He outstretched his short arms and hugged Way around the neck, stroking the white tufts. “I love you, Gerard.”

“I love you so much, darling. Most in the world, baby doll.”

He got up and went to the door, shutting it, talking in Italian ever so softly to the sandy blond outside. Frank dried his eyes and pulled sweat pants over his boxers, looking in the mirror and seeing the man who had begged James Romano not to rape or harm him. He shook his hair and reinforced the stigma of being married to Gerard Way-he wasn’t like that, not anymore.

A polite, tame knock rapped on the wooden chamber door. Iero grabbed his husband’s black jacket and shrugged it over his bony shoulders, sitting on the four poster.

“Come in.”

The woman claimed to be Katlyn Bryar but that accusation seemed highly controversial. Her skin was dishevelled and a shade of sickly yellow, her frame disturbingly frail and fragile. The smile shw wore to try and please her superior’s husband was fixed and forced. She wore a white nightgown and donned a black robe over it. Frank wore a friendly, encouraging beam and beckoned her over.

“Hi Kat,” he said brightly. He knew his way around delicate topics.

The woman smiled again, looking like she might break into a million pieces. She sat down on the ground.

“Don’t sit there,” Frank chirped again, holding out his hand. “It’s cold on the floor and you should sit up here with me.” Then, lowly: “You can sit as far away as you like, but Bob would kill me if you get sick.”

“I can’t sit up there,” she barely croaked, a dying whisper. “That’s-that’s Don de la Via’s-“

“Yeah, but it’s mine too, and I say you can sit up here,” he said defiantly, pulling her up gently. Katlyn was as weak and as light as a feather-Frank was as gentle as possible. “Are you cold? I can get the heating on if you want.”

“No, thank you,” she breathed as the boy smiled at her. She glanced around at the bed, the paintings, the wardrobe-this was the bedroom of her boss, Gerard Way, the most wanted and most feared man in the States and indeed across the world. Everything was black and luxurious-the dresser was covered in make-up, jewellery and ties. It looked like the nicest hotel room she ever saw. “Is this...is this your bedroom?”

“Uh huh,” Frank replied, nodding. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Some people think black is boring but I think it’s lovely. I know he acts all manly around you guys but once he gets in here he gets all girly and stuff.” He giggled and nodded proudly to the closet. “We have a walk-in wardrobe.”

“Y-you do?” Damn, even she didn’t have a molfucking walk-in wardrobe. “Really?”

“Yup,” was the answer. He pressed the button under his bedside table, and the doors swung open; suits and jackets and trousers were folded and hung from the shelves in a neat, organized fashion. Kat couldn’t help but gasp. “See? He’s as big a nancy boy as me.” Kat let out a slightly shaky laugh. “He’s such a girl.”

“Can I...can I ask what it’s like to be married to him?” She murmured. “You must understand it’s so weird talking to you without him here.” A tiny smile tickled her lips. “He’s been my boss since I was eighteen. He is...different, to say the least.”

“He’s wonderful,” Iero gushed, happy again. “He’s the best person in the world. He acts real different to you guys-he’s posh and cold and a hardass and all that.” A grin. “When he’s with me he talks in his normal accent-he’s from New Jersey, you see, and he talks differently to the rest of us.”

“How different?” She asked silently, pushing strands of thin black hair behind a pale ear.

“Like Bob,” he answered, and she looked shell-shocked. “He cusses and talks just like Bob.” He thought more about it-she only ever saw the gangster version of his husband. “And he paints and sings and reads and the room upstairs is full of all his artwork.” Another sharp inhale. Then he thought of something. “Did you know his middle name is Arthur?” He snickered, while Katlyn looked bewildered.

“No,” she breathed. “I don’t even know his first name. I presume he has one.”

“Of course he has!” The boy giggled. “His name is Gerard!”

“Ger-ard?” She cocked her head to one side. “Wow. I didn’t even think he had one, he’s just so formal. Do you have to call him Don de la Via?”

“Nope. I call him Gerard.” A triumphant grin. “He calls me his bunny rabbit.” He settled with ease into their bed. “He’s the best person in the whole world.” He decided to slip into the topic. “He treats me so well, he never does anything I don’t like. He protects me.” He then fucked it all. “And he damn near destroyed Andy de Luca when he...er...when he raped me.”

Her mouth fell open, revealing perfect white teeth, her dark globes bulging.

“Didn’t you...didn’t you know that?” He said quietly, gulping. “He didn’t tell you?”

“He only told Bob and Louis,” she whispered. “Bob came home-or, well, came up to our room in this house, I think this is home-and said he was sworn to secrecy about something. We just got told briefly that Cor-or, Don de la Via was furious with de Luca for unknown reasons.” She looked fearful. “He...he actually did that?”

“Yes. In our old house,” Frank said, matter-of-factly, nodding. “In our en suite. He pinned me to the wall and beat me and then raped me. Twice.” The tears flooded his eyes suddenly. He sniffed; he had promised he wouldn’t cry in front of her. “Y’know, normally and...orally.”

“Oh God,” she choked. “That’s terrible.”

“It is,” Frank confirmed. “But you can’t let it get to you, y’know? Bob’s gonna kill the bastard and then you just gotta hold your head high and know that you’re better than anything ever delivered to you by them.” He cocked his head. “You’re badass, Kat, really, you are. Just because of some rapist shitbag you don’t have to wallow away.”

“He said I deserved it,” the statement was barely audible. “That I dressed like a slut.”

“That’s bullshit,” Frank said defiantly. “It ain’t your molfucking fault. Even if you ain’t wearing a goddamn thing he ain’t got no right to fucking attack you.” He cleared his throat. “No one deserves to get raped. Not you, not me, not some Romano guy-nofuckingbody. It’s disgusting, it’s just as bad as murder. They just die inside.”

She looked at him, a little taken aback.

“Thanks,” she replied. “Bob is wonderful, he really is. But I...I can’t kiss him without getting fucking freaked.” She chewed a manicured nail, snapping the enamel with her sharp teeth. “You don’t have to answer, I-“

“Bob’s a good guy,” he said, choosing to ignore the fact that Robert was now handicapped and this in so ‘lessened’ his performance generally. “He knows you’re scared and stuff, that you’ll be a little kinda...reluctant at first. But it’s not as bad as you think. Once you really, really love the person, and you trust them, and they’re gentle...it’s fine. Much better than fine...really good.” He bit his lip and flexed the ring finger.

“Did you go to therapy?”

“No...I thought about it but I didn’t wanna share it with anyone.” A deep breath. “It’s not necessary but I guess it helps. You do whatever you want,” he said ever-so-softly. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Of course.” She sniffed and hugged him tightly. It felt weird; he had only been hugged by one man before, and the arms around him now were thinner and lighter, the hair long and curled. “Thank you, Frankie. Thanks so much.”

“No problem.” The smile returned. “Happy Christmas, Kat.”

“Merry Christmas,” she said in a hushed mummer, hand over her nightgown. “And a happy new year, Mister Way.”

She closed the door and returned to her own home with her husband. That night they talked and kissed and cavorted-she even laughed. When Gerard returned to his husband that night, they made soft, fervent love, free of squeaks, pleads and whimpers.

Frank lay in the dark for hours, twisting the wooden crucifix trailing his husband’s chest, hazel eyes fixated on the little figure weeping blood on the cross.

Yeah I know ending is weird but that comes up in #70-I Have Forgiven Jesus. The next chapter is a Gerard-being-a-badass-motherfucker-kicking-Romano-rapist-ass kinda one. Yep, it’s got gore.

People who don't like gore/rape/severe violence should not read the next one. And the one after that is really sad and stuff. Just, yknow, FYI.