Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Powerless
A/N: Heads up; mini-chapter. I started writing it and didn't want to continue into the next scene. This is sorta a key event here... y'know.
“Well whadaya know.” Gerard laughed.
“What?” I said, sitting down beside him on the beat-up old couch.
“Check this out.”
He handed his phone to me, and on the screen was a news article titled “White House In Uproar After Burglary-With-Weapon”.
Oh, shit.
“On Thursday at approximately 11am, Angela Stone, 51, was held at gunpoint by an unknown perpetrator going by the name of James Wakeling, who threatened to shoot unless Stone got him into the government database.” I read aloud.
“Third paragraph. Read it.” Gerard said confidently.
“The FBI is trying to track down Wakeling, as well as determine the presumed changes made to the system files. If you know anything-“
“That’s good.” He interrupted. “See, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve completely covered your tracks; no fingerprints, no file change history, no profile. You’ve got this.”
“So now I have to stay on-the-run with you?”
“Might be a good idea. Someone identifies you physically, you’re screwed. And besides, I wouldn’t wanna leave my sidekick behind.”
“Oh, so I’m your sidekick?” I asked with a laugh.
“Isn’t that what they call it when the big guy makes the little guy do stuff to make his job easier?” He replied, his voice thick with narcissism.
“I see your point.”
I got up from the couch and made my way over to the bed. This is day 5 on the journey from the White House to Mexico, where apparently the main base is – strangely enough. I’m not even sure where we are presently; all I know is that this is the third former-hotel I’ve stayed in alongside Gerard since that day back in Chicago. He seems to have a thing for them.
“When are we leaving tomorrow?” I asked.
“Best leave around 7 or 8.” He answered, checking his watch. “Shit, it’s already 2am.”
“Come to bed!”
I definitely did not mean to say it that enthusiastically. Oops.
“Down on the floor, I gotta handcuff you to the bed.”
“Um, what?” I smirked. “Pretty sure we’re past all that shit.”
“Well, I suppose I could cuff you up there…”
He stood to the left of the bed, musing at me deviously.
“Wh-What are you doing-“
He grabbed the handcuffs from the table, jumped up on the bed – which squeaked angrily beneath his weight – and cuffed me to the head board.
“Um, Gerard-“
Before I had the chance to say anything else, he pushed me against the board and pressed his lips to mine passionately; almost violently. I had just barely begun to grasp what in the actual fuck was going on, when he pulled away suddenly and unlocked me; throwing the handcuffs to the floor.
“Wh-What happened there?”
He climbed under the covers in silence.
A fit of insanity? Maybe it was the lack of sleep.
But whatever it was, I sure hope it happens again.
“Well whadaya know.” Gerard laughed.
“What?” I said, sitting down beside him on the beat-up old couch.
“Check this out.”
He handed his phone to me, and on the screen was a news article titled “White House In Uproar After Burglary-With-Weapon”.
Oh, shit.
“On Thursday at approximately 11am, Angela Stone, 51, was held at gunpoint by an unknown perpetrator going by the name of James Wakeling, who threatened to shoot unless Stone got him into the government database.” I read aloud.
“Third paragraph. Read it.” Gerard said confidently.
“The FBI is trying to track down Wakeling, as well as determine the presumed changes made to the system files. If you know anything-“
“That’s good.” He interrupted. “See, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve completely covered your tracks; no fingerprints, no file change history, no profile. You’ve got this.”
“So now I have to stay on-the-run with you?”
“Might be a good idea. Someone identifies you physically, you’re screwed. And besides, I wouldn’t wanna leave my sidekick behind.”
“Oh, so I’m your sidekick?” I asked with a laugh.
“Isn’t that what they call it when the big guy makes the little guy do stuff to make his job easier?” He replied, his voice thick with narcissism.
“I see your point.”
I got up from the couch and made my way over to the bed. This is day 5 on the journey from the White House to Mexico, where apparently the main base is – strangely enough. I’m not even sure where we are presently; all I know is that this is the third former-hotel I’ve stayed in alongside Gerard since that day back in Chicago. He seems to have a thing for them.
“When are we leaving tomorrow?” I asked.
“Best leave around 7 or 8.” He answered, checking his watch. “Shit, it’s already 2am.”
“Come to bed!”
I definitely did not mean to say it that enthusiastically. Oops.
“Down on the floor, I gotta handcuff you to the bed.”
“Um, what?” I smirked. “Pretty sure we’re past all that shit.”
“Well, I suppose I could cuff you up there…”
He stood to the left of the bed, musing at me deviously.
“Wh-What are you doing-“
He grabbed the handcuffs from the table, jumped up on the bed – which squeaked angrily beneath his weight – and cuffed me to the head board.
“Um, Gerard-“
Before I had the chance to say anything else, he pushed me against the board and pressed his lips to mine passionately; almost violently. I had just barely begun to grasp what in the actual fuck was going on, when he pulled away suddenly and unlocked me; throwing the handcuffs to the floor.
“Wh-What happened there?”
He climbed under the covers in silence.
A fit of insanity? Maybe it was the lack of sleep.
But whatever it was, I sure hope it happens again.
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