#things:wings

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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Gerard's mind conjures monsters, a time-traveling version of himself, and a portal to another dimension. He still isn’t prepared for what he sees when he opens the door. There’s a man on Gerard’s bed, covered in blood, and surrounding him are… feathers.

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Frank won't have relations with his boyfriend until he doesn't smell like death.

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Gerard calls Frank his angel, his marvellous and perfect angel.

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Frank was stretched out on the roof of the bus when Gerard joined him, sprawled on his back, his shirt riding up to show his tattoos, a half-empty water bottle between his fingers. He picked up the bottle and poured some of it on his face, then blinked owlishly at Gerard as he climbed up.  "Here," he said, and kicked a notebook across the roof at him. "Draw us an air conditioner."