Grey Crimson Skies 5/5

[turps]

~*~*~*~

"You're telling me that you finally asked Gerard on a date, and he asked along Mikey and Frank, and then when you admitted it was a date you both finished your coffee and came back here?" Ray says, holding an armful of artificial black roses, like he's sheltering behind some kind of macabre bouquet.

"What was I supposed to do?" Bob snatches up the white shirt from the grass, throwing it towards Frank. "He didn't suggest we go out, I wasn't about to force him."

"Of course he's not going to suggest it, it's Gerard," Frank says, examining the shirt with a frown. "You need to ask him again."

Bob scowls and starts gathering up spent candles. "Like you're such an expert about dating. It took Gerard and a fucking stone unicorn for you to date Mikey."

"It worked," Frank says, and smiles as he looks over at the unicorn which is back in its usual place, looking bare without its light-up horn. He turns back to Bob. "Why...."

"No." Bob holds up his hand, knowing what Frank's about to say. "The unicorn won't work for this."

"The unicorn works for everything, it's magic," Frank says, and wraps an arm around Bob's waist and rests his head against Bob's chest. "Give it a try."

Bob spits blue hair out of his mouth, tasting dye. "You're been hanging with Mikey too long, you're sounding like him."

"You are," Ray agrees. "It's scary."

"Whatever," Frank says, still clinging on to Bob. "You're just jealous."

"You've caught me, I've always wanted to be a co-dependent flower freak," Bob says, and grabs hold of Frank, hauling him up onto his shoulder. "Why aren't you cleaning up?"

Frank giggles, hitting his fists against Bob's back. "Because discussing your pathetic love life, or lack of it, is more interesting."

Bob holds onto Frank's legs and spins around before dropping him on the grass with a thud. "Since when are my dates public record?"

Frank lies flat, his arms outstretched and his eyes wide. "Since you wanted to become my brother-in-law."

"Oh fuck no, you'll never be family," Bob says, and plucks a fake rose off one of the screens, throwing it at Frank's head.

Frank grins. "I didn't know you cared."

"I don't," Bob says, and then stops talking when Ray walks close, smiling wide, his phone in his hand.

"Brian just sent a text, his interview went really well."

"Fantastic!" Frank scrambles to his feet and grabs hold of Ray, dancing him around the garden. "It's the power of the unicorn, I told you."

"Or Brian's fucking good at what he does," Bob says, stepping to one side when Frank and Ray careen by.

Well, that too." Frank comes to a stop next to Bob, his eyes glittering and looking happy, but he sounds perfectly serious when he says, "Go ask Gerard again. I promise we'll keep away this time."

"And what if he says no?" Bob says, the possibility clinging on.

Frank shakes his head, says, "He won't."

~~~~

Mikey walks over and sits at the table, taking the chair next to Gerard's. He takes Gerard's coffee, drinking it all before setting the empty mug back in the same place. He leans back in his chair and says nothing. Mikey's good at that, able to wait Gerard out for as long as it takes. Gerard isn't; he always has to talk and fill a silence.

"I don't know what you want me to do," Gerard says. He picks at a blob of congealed ketchup, peeling it from the surface of the table. "It's not like I could ask him to a movie."

Feet braced against the side of Gerard's chair, Mikey leans forward and scratches his ankle. "It's the first time you've been interested in someone for years."

"It's the first time I've been interested in anything for years," Gerard corrects. He reaches down, curling his fingers around the toes of Mikey's sneakers as he admits, "I don't know if it's enough."

"Enough what?" Mikey asks.

Gerard thinks what to say. He likes having Bob around, and being together feels good, but Bob deserves someone who'll love him and be there when needed, and the truth is, Gerard doesn't know if he can do that. He's only got so much to give and any emotional energy will always go to Mikey first. The last thing he wants is for Bob to be hurt, and Gerard can't help feeling that'll be inevitable if they get together.

Gerard bites at his thumb nail, says, "Enough to love him."

"You're making excuses," Mikey says, and pushes his glasses back up his nose.

Gerard shakes his head, because that's not fair. "It's the truth."

"It's the truth how you see it," Mikey says, talking over Gerard when he starts to protest. "Relationships don't start with love, they start with like. You build up from that."

"And what if I don't have the energy to build?" Gerard says. "What if Bob gets tired of waiting and leaves?"

"Then he wouldn't be the one for you." Mikey wiggles his toes against Gerard's fingers. "But Bob's not like that."

"I know," Gerard says. He knows Bob is good and patient, he's been there through everything, for anything Gerard ever needs. It's just, there's no way Gerard can give back as much in return. "He deserves someone better."

Mikey drops his feet to the floor, his jaw set. "I say this because I love you, but you're a fucking idiot. You've spent so long being sad that you've forgotten how to be happy."

Gerard runs his hands through his hair and itches at his cheek. "You think dating Bob would make me happy?"

"No," Mikey says, shaking his head. "It doesn't work like that and you know it. Bob can't make you happy, but he'll try, and why deny yourself that?"

"I could drag him down," Gerard says, admitting his fear.

"Or he could drag you up."

"I guess," Gerard says, listening to the sound of laughter from outside, and the truth is, Gerard's scared, fucking terrified that he'll try this and fail. He looks around the kitchen, at the plant on the windowsill, the juice bottles lined up on the counter, at Mikey who's patiently waiting, and Gerard knows this is one time he has to try. "Think I'd get my own burned handprint?"

Mikey smiles slightly. "If you're lucky."

~*~*~*~

Bob looks in the mirror and tugs at his shirt. It still doesn't seem real that he's going on an actual date with Gerard. It feels like everything is happening too fast, though in reality the lead up to this has lasted for over a year.

"Have you finished primping you vain bastard?" Brian yells, and wanders into Bob's bedroom, throwing himself down on the bed. "So, this is the big night."

"It's a night," Bob says, and runs his fingers through his hair.

"Whatever." Brian shrugs, leaning back on the pile of discarded shirts. "Jesus Chris, your wardrobe needs an overhaul."

"My wardrobe is just fine," Bob says and turns away from the mirror, it's not as if Gerard cares about appearances and they're not going anywhere fancy. "Why are you even here? We've outgrown doing each other's hair."

"Maybe you have, cupcake." Brian sits, grinning up at Bob. "I came to make sure you remember what to do on a date. I know it's been a long time."

"Fuck off," Bob says, and sneaks a look in the mirror before he shoves his wallet into his pocket and attaches the chain to his belt loop. "I know what I'm doing."

"You sure? I give good tips," Brian says, then stands, following Bob out of the room. "Seriously, you're okay?"

"I'm good," Bob says, relieved that that's actually true. He's looking forward to spending time with Gerard, and however the evening turns out, that's fine; Bob's in no hurry. Plucking his keys out of the glass bowl on the side table, he looks outside, and is surprised to see Ray's van.

"I'm going over to Ray's to work on the books." Brian stands next to Bob, both watching as Ray gets out of the van, his hair whipping in his face as he looks up and waves. "We figured we'd give you a lift to Gerard's."

"You're both nosy fuckers," Bob says, secretly glad of the ride.

~~~~

Squashed between the door and Brian, Bob listens to the conversation that flows around him, glad they're not expecting him to take part. It's only when they stop that Ray looks past Brian and says, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That doesn't leave much," Brian laughs, and he elbows Bob hard in the side. "Go, get out Romeo."

Bob goes, flipping Brian off before heading up the side of the house toward the kitchen door. When he gets there he sees it's open, and when he steps inside he finds Mikey mopping the floor, looking disgruntled as Frank sits on the counter and directs.

"Bob, hi." Frank points to a corner of the kitchen. "You've missed a bit." He grins and holds up his hands when Mikey points the soapy mop in his direction. "It wasn't me that spilt juice on the floor."

Mikey half-heartedly pushes the mop over a splash of red juice. "If you hadn't surprised me like that I wouldn't have dropped it."

"But you looked so delicious standing there, I had to taste."

Mikey props the mop against the sink and turns, arms crossed over his chest. "You bit my ass. That's not right."

"You're both not right," Bob says, and carefully walks over the wet floor. "Where's Gerard?"

"In the basement," Mikey leans against the counter, looking worried. "He's been sleeping a lot today, I don't. I mean, he might not..."

"It's okay," Bob interrupts, and while he knows he doesn't have to explain his potential relationship to Mikey, he's going to anyway. "I won't push him, Mikey. I never will. Not unless he needs it."

Mikey looks at Bob a long moment, says eventually, "I believe you."

Which Bob knows is his vote of approval, and he nods, giving his own thanks as he goes down the stairs. Past the laundry heap that continuously seems to keep growing and into the main part of the room, where Gerard's sitting on his bed, his head in his hands. He's changed clothes, wearing black jeans still but his shirt is patterned with tiny white skulls and he's made an effort to brush his hair, except at the back where tufts at sticking out at right angles to his head. He looks great, and Bob knows they're going nowhere tonight.

"Bad day?" Bob walks close and sits down, reaching behind him when he hears something crinkle. Pulling out a comic he sets it on the floor then looks at Gerard, who still hasn't moved. "Gerard?"

"This is what I meant," Gerard says, his voice muffled. "You're here, and I tried and I can't. Not today. You came here for nothing."

"Not for nothing." Bob moves closer and rests his hand on Gerard's knee. "This date was about seeing you, and I am."

"Because everyone wants a date in a basement," Gerard says, looking miserable.

"It works for me," Bob says, and he shuffles back, urging Gerard to follow so they're sitting side by side, resting against the wall. Bob kicks off his shoes and digs his feet into the covers. "What happened today?"

Gerard slumps to the side, his head on Bob's shoulder. "Nothing special. Mikey called the Social Security Administration about the disability claim, they said they'd be in touch soon but I'm not holding my breath. Then he went to work and I napped. In the afternoon I took my meds and watched TV before getting changed. Exciting, yeah."

Bob worms his hand around Gerard's back, holding him close. "I was on lawn duty today. Five of them, two with stripes. By the time I was done I looked like a grassy Incredible Hulk."

"You've the muscles for it," Gerard says, running his fingers along the muscles of Bob's arm. When he reaches Bob's hand he stops, fingertips over the scars. "I don't understand why you're here."

"Why shouldn't I be?" Bob asks.

"Because I'm fucked in the head," Gerard says, looking away from Bob. "I've got nothing to give you."

Bob turns his head, and Gerard's so close. Eyes dark and pale skin, his mouth curled down. All Bob wants to do is touch, but not yet, not until he tries to get Gerard to understand. "A wise man once told me we're all fucked in the head, and you give me plenty."

"Yeah," Gerard says dubiously. "Like what?"

"Like this." Bob cradles his hand around Gerard's chin and cheek, holding him still like the most delicate flower. Bob's heart is racing as he moves even closer, fitting their mouths together and it's been so long since he did this, the year he's been here and then time before, when he was sorting out his own head. It's like he's rediscovering kissing all over again, the pressure of someone's lips against his own, the feel of skin and hard muscle under his hands, and all he can think is Gerard.

Bob sighs when Gerard slides his tongue into Bob's mouth, hesitant at first, as if unsure if he's allowed, but when Bob responds by touching Gerard's tongue with his own, Gerard becomes bolder, and he nips Bob's bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently before pulling away.

Bob slides his thumb down to Gerard's mouth, touching the corner. "Like that."

"I think I can give you that," Gerard says, looking serious.

Bob smiles. "I never doubted it for a second."

~*~*~*

Gerard yawns and scratches as his cheek, watching as Bob fastens his boots. He's bent over, his face concealed by his hair as he tugs at the red laces, efficiently tying a double knot.

"Want me to bring back something for dinner?" Bob says and looks up, pushing his hair out of his face. "I'll stop off at the store after work."

"Yeah, that'll be good," Gerard says, and starts to gather the breakfast dishes, putting them in the sink. It's a routine he's tried to follow for the last week, making the effort to get up and eat breakfast with Mikey and Bob -- who stayed over that first night and still hasn't gone home. Sometimes Gerard doesn't succeed, too sad to even think about crawling from under the covers, but most mornings he does and he's getting used to waking with Bob holding him close. He loves the scratch of Bob's beard against his shoulder and the way Bob sounds as he starts his day, grumbling under his breath as he presses a kiss against Gerard's cheek.

Bob pats his pocket and pulls out his phone, looking at the display. "Remember we're working late today."

"At the rose house." Gerard turns on the faucet, and adds a squirt of detergent, swishing his hand through the water to create bubbles that rapidly expand, their surface filmed with glistening colors.

"Yeah," Bob says, and he puts back his phone and opens the door, looking outside. "I need to get going."

Gerard rubs his hands on his shirt, leaving damp patches that cling to his skin. He enjoys this part of the morning, and it makes the effort of forcing himself to get up worth it as Bob steps close and curls his hands around Gerard's arms. Holding on, Bob leans in for a kiss, gentle still, but Gerard loves each touch, the jolt he feels as Bob's tongue slides against his own before he pulls back at the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside.

"I need to get going." A last quick kiss and Bob heads for the door, Gerard following. Standing in the doorway he wiggles his fingers at Brian and Ray, and smiles when Bob turns and waves before getting into the van.

Once the van pulls away, Gerard closes the door and looks around. It's still tempting to go back downstairs and sleep, he can't imagine his life without that constant pull, but today he can resist it as he finishes the dishes, stacking them on the drainer before he refills his mug with coffee. Hip pressing against the counter, he drinks it while looking outside, at the garden that's looking beautiful right now, the bedding plants spreading and crowded together in waves of brilliant color.

"Has Bob already gone?"

Gerard turns and sees Mikey hurrying downstairs, he's looking at his watch and frowning at the time, but instead of heading for the door moves close to Gerard and plucks his mug out his hand.

"There's more in the machine," Gerard says mildly. "And he left a few minutes ago."

Mikey takes a long drink and hands the mug back to Gerard. "Fuck, I'm running late."

"If you didn't take so long on your hair...."

Mikey pats at his hair, which is sticking up even more than usual this morning. "It takes time for perfection, but I need to go."

"You really do," Gerard says, looking at the clock. "Go."

"Going." Grabbing his bag, Mikey slings it over his shoulder and hurries away, waving at Gerard before he slams shut the door.

Smiling, Gerard fills his mug again.

~~~~~

The letter arrives later that morning. Nauseous, all Gerard does is drop it on the table, next to the bottle of ketchup and open notebook, a black pen lying on the join of the pages. Even if he is feeling okay today, this is too important to open alone, the end result of a fight that's been going on for too long.

Needing distraction, Gerard works in the bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the floor, paint brush in hand as he draws black-leaved vines and a unicorn with a flaming tail and mane. He's got the window pushed wide open and from where he's sitting Gerard can hear the sound of traffic and the rustle of the grasses in the garden. Sunlight streams into the room, the surfaces bleached white, and then later in the day; gold.

His legs and hand cramped, Gerard's flexing his fingers when he finally hears footsteps. Standing with a groan, he looks outside and sees Mikey outside. Setting down his brush, Gerard quickly closes the pots of paint and goes downstairs, where Mikey's walking into the kitchen, pulling the earbuds out of his ears. There's a brief burst of tinny music then Mikey turns off his iPod, wrapping around the wire before dropping it in his bag. "Hey."

"The letter from the Social Security came," Gerard says, and Mikey takes a sharp breath.

"Did you open it?"

Gerard shakes his head and his stomach aches from a day of remembering other times, the sense of crushing disappointment each time his claim was turned down. "I was waiting for you."

"Right." Mikey still hasn't moved away from the door and it's Gerard that picks up the letter, clutching it in his hand.

"I should open it," Gerard says, and all he can think is please, please, please, they need this money so badly. Grabbing hold of the top corner, Gerard starts to rip open the envelope, taking out the sheet of paper inside. He can see his own name, then further pleased to tell you that . Gerard reads again, hardly able to believe. "We're pleased to inform you...."

"It's been granted?" Mikey says, sounding shocked, and he almost runs to Gerard, crowding close and reading over his shoulder. "You've been accepted."

"I've been accepted!" Gerard yells, and the letter flutters to the ground as he grabs Mikey around the waist and spins him around. "We'll have money, you can stop working all the fucking time."

"I thought. Fuck, I thought this would never happen," Mikey says, sounding dazed, and they slow down, clinging together "We're making it, Gee. We're going to be okay."

"We are," Gerard says, and along with excitement is overwhelming relief, the kind that comes from living with uncertainty for so long. The fact being, there were times Gerard thought he wouldn't make it -- he still does at times.

"I need to tell Bob," Gerard says, and he scoops up the letter, reading it again as he looks for his phone.

Mikey pulls out his own phone and then checks his watch. "He's got a late job, Frank's there too."

"The rose lady, I remember," Gerard says, and take Mikey's phone when he hands it over. About to dial, he stops, finger over the call button, needing to tell Bob the news, but at the same time, telling over the phone just won't be the same. Swallowing, Gerard looks toward outside -- while he goes out for his therapy appointments or more recently, on the coffee non-date with Bob, it's been a long time since Gerard's gone somewhere just because he wants to. It's an urge he lost years before, but right now all he wants to do is see Bob and if that means leaving the house, that's what Gerard will do. "Do you know where the job is?"

"The general area," Mikey says, and gives Gerard a look. "Why?"

Gerard glances at the letter, pushing back the nerves when he thinks about voluntarily leaving the house. "It's a nice evening, I thought if we met them there we could celebrate somehow. Maybe call in for a coffee."

Mikey clutches Gerard's arm, his fingers digging in. "You want to go out and meet them?"

"I thought, yeah," Gerard says, and Mikey keeps holding on, looking surprised.

"You want to go out and meet them, you're sure?" Mikey says again, giving Gerard a searching look.

"I'm sure." To show that he means it, Gerard heads for the door and Mikey follows, grabbing Gerard's jacket on the way. When they step outside he hands it over and Gerard pulls it on, pushing his hands into his pockets as Mikey locks up.

"You're ready to go?" Mikey slips the key into his pocket, and when Gerard nods he smiles, says, "Let's do it."

~~~~

The walk is longer than Gerard expected and by the time they arrive Gerard's panting, his chest heavy as they look for Ray's van.

"I think. Yeah." Mikey grabs Gerard's wrist and tugs him across the road, toward a pick-up truck, complete with a trailer hitched to the back. It's parked on a grass verge, in front of a large house with a front garden full of brilliant scarlet roses. The pick-up is white and has Ray's Gardening Service on the door. Gerard walks close and looks inside as he runs his fingers over the side, across the shiny paint and black letters.

"Ray got a pick-up?"

"This morning, he said it'll be more practical than a van," Mikey says, and looks at his watch. "We'll wait here, they shouldn't be long."

"We're not going to find them?" Gerard asks, head tilted to one side as he listens to the sound of a mower.

"Not while they're working." Mikey leans back against the pick-up, legs crossed at the ankle and turns his head, looking at Gerard and says conversationally, "So, you and Bob."

"Me and Bob," Gerard says in reply, enjoying the way that sounds. "I like him."

"And he likes you," Mikey says, and Gerard smiles.

"He does," Gerard says. "He's a good kisser, his lips are soft, but his stubble's sort of scratchy. It's nice."

"Oh my god, I don't need to know," Mikey says, but he's laughing as he talks, kicking at Gerard's leg."

Gerard kicks back, and his cheeks ache from grinning so hard. "I’m still going to tell you, especially as I saw Frank's ass yesterday. His ass, Mikey."

Mikey steps on Gerard's foot with his own, standing close. "I keep forgetting you come upstairs now. I'll tell him to wear a robe."

"It's okay," Gerard says. "It's a nice ass."

"No looking at Frank's ass," Mikey says, and tries to jab his fingers in Gerard's ribs, laughing when Gerard wiggles, then there's a shout, and Frank comes running forward, launching himself at Mikey and Gerard.

"What are you doing here?" Frank pulls Mikey into a hug and brushes a stealthy kiss against his cheek. "There's nothing wrong is there?"

Unable to stand still, Gerard pulls the letter out of his pocket, waving it in the air. "No, everything is awesome."

Pushing a lawn mower, Bob looks anxious as he leaves it close to the trailer and then looks at the letter. Slowly, he starts to smile. "They're backdating your claim. Fuck, Gerard. That's amazing."

"I know," Gerard says, and he can't stop smiling, unable to stand still as Ray hurries over, setting down an armful of tools. Behind him, Brian's carrying a bag of fertilizer over his shoulder, and he waves with his free hand.

"That's fantastic," Ray says, and he claps Gerard on the back. "We need to go have a double celebration."

"We're celebrating the new pick up?" Gerard asks, but Ray shakes his head, pointing at Brian.

"Brian's leaving me."

"You got the job?" Mikey says, and when Frank crouches and picks a daisy from the grass, Mikey dips his head while still looking at Brian, letting Frank thread the flower into his hair. "The one at Flannigans?"

"I got the fucking job," Brian says, and he punches the air. "No more fucking lawn stripes for me."

"Go you," Mikey says, and he hi-fives Brian, their hands slapping together.

"So you'll be looking for more new staff," Gerard says, and he expects Ray to look resigned, but all he looks is happy.

"Eventually," Ray says. "Frank's on vacation soon, we'll manage until then." He grins then, looking at Brian. "I'll miss my lawn stripe guy."

"If I don't see another fucking lawn stripe again it'll be too soon," Brian says, glaring at the mower. "Who the fuck...."

"Needs lawn stripes," everyone says in unison, and unable to resist, Gerard grabs hold of Bob, squeezing him tight, his face against Bob's neck, and then there's more people. Ray joining the hug, his arms around Gerard, Frank jumping on Bob's back, all bright hair and smile. Brian, next to Ray, holding tight, his hand on Gerard's shoulder. and then Mikey, squirming so he's at Gerard's side, taking his rightful place. Everyone holding on, celebrating with a group hug.

Trapped in the middle, Gerard holds on, and these are his friends, his family -- with their help he'll make it.

Comments

[turps33.livejournal.com]

They needed a happy ending I think :)

Striking the balance when writing about the depression was something I was always thinking about. I never wanted to sensationalise it, but at the same time didn't want to downplay the fact that it sucks hard core. I'm glad it worked for you.