The Fastpass.
Prologue and chapter one.
It was a long day at the Fastpass. The creaking fans overhead spun dust over the huge Wall Mart-like store. Gerard scratched his chin idly, leaning over the till counter as he watched Bert trip over and land on the tall cardboard display of Jim Carrey near the DVD aisle. "Gee! Gee! Hi Gee!" Frank appeared at his elbow, grinning and bouncing on his toes. Gerard nodded stiffly to him and continued to watch Bert as he stumbled to the counter. Finally there, safe, he leaned over and tapped Gerard's nose. "Do you have a smoke? Jeph's out, which means I'm out." Frank practically threw his cig box at Bert in his excitement. "Err, thanks." Bert offered a smile, and Frank practically orgasmed on the spot. "No problem!" Gerard and Bert shared a Look, and then their boss appeared.
"Bert! Did I not already tell you to go sort the CDs or not?" Matt, the floor manager, (or 'Shadows' as he forced them all to call him) shouted.
"Well, Mr. Shadows, you see," Bert buttered him up, "I have these really sensitive eyes, and the light reflected from the CDs," Bert waved his arms enthusiastically, "they can damage my eyes. So, you see..."
"Cut the crap McCracken. Just go and sort them." Bert frowned and turned to trudge away. "Or, Bert you know what might help your eyes? If you had someone to help you." Shadows grinned deviously, "Frank, why don't you go help Bert out?"
Bert sent Shadows a Look that clearly read as pissed. Scowling, he trudged off with Frank bunnying along happily behind him. Gerard frowned and put his chin in his hands again, sighing in a tortured-teenage-artist-forced-to-work way.
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"Frank, can you maybe put the Shakira ones on to-" Bert sighed, pointing before he realised the obvious height issue. Shadows was clearly an idiot, sending the two shortest guys in the entire store to fix the high shelves. Perhaps it was a well-disguised attempt on their lives? Bert mused as he idly watched Frank tumble off the third shelf and land, looking rather shocked, on his ass. If it was, it was well disguised. Perhaps he was an evil criminal genius, on the run and hiding out as a floor manager. "Maybe someone should go get the step ladder." Bert decided. Frank looked at him and Bert Looked back. Obviously he wasn't going to get it. He was older than Frank, meaning he was in charge. He glared at Frankie until he got the message and trundled off to the storeroom. Bert leaned against the shelves and mused on the possibilities of the entire store being a farce, a distraction for Murdering Shadows to...well, murder his employees. Well, perhaps if-WHOA. "Hi. Um, could you maybe help me?"
"Ungh."
"Err...Right. Do you know where the DVDs are?" A tall, blonde angel was standing in front of Bert. Who was, rather inconviently, stunned.
"Agh..." Giving up entirely on words, Bert just pointed to the next aisle over.
"Thanks!" He replied, giving Bert a tentative smile which caused Bert to lose full control of his knees and flop backwards onto the shelf.
"Bert? I tried to get the ladder but there was a spider on it, and he looked at me an- Oh, h-hi. I'm Frank," Frank grinned, holding a small hand out the blonde angel, who smiled and shook. "Hi Frankie, I'm Quinn," The angel glowed. Bert began to slide down the shelves. "Can I help you?" Frank began to lead Quinn away. A truly horrified Bert landed a well-aimed kick to the back of Frank's knee and knocked him over. He jumped up and placed a hand on Quinn's elbow. "Bert!" Bert squeaked, too happy to have found actual words to care that he squeaked. Well, one word. His name. But it still counted! "R-right..." Quinn's gaze flew around. "I should go, my friends are..." Too weirded out to form a complete sentence, he just darted off. Bert chose to believe that this was just because he was so stunned by Bert's beauty, his eyes couldn't stand it. Daydreaming, he knelt in front of Frank and gripped his collar. "If you touch him, if you talk to him, if you look at him, I will cheerfully slice your balls off with a Beyonce CD." He threatened a truly terrified Frank. Dropping Frank, Bert climbed the shelves and held his hand out for his young helper to hand him up the box of CDs, ignoring Frank's "Why couldn't you do that in the first place?!"
"Frank, my dear pal, I do believe I have a Plan."
"A plan?" Frank handed Bert the CDs, one by one.
"No, Frank. A Plan. With a capital 'P'," Bert shook his head and stacked the disks.
Wondering how the hell Bert had known he hadn't capitalised it, Frank nodded wisely and handed Bert another ten CDs. "What is your Plan, exactly?"
Bert grinned devilishly. "Oh, dear Frankie. You'll see. You will see."
"Does that mean you don't know yet?" Frank dared to ask.
Bert frowned. "Well, yes. But not for long. Call Gerard and tell him I need to talk to him tonight."
"Do you know what the Plan concerns yet, Bert?"
Bert finished stacked, and jumped down beside a startled Frank. "Of course," he sniffed. "The Plan is, that somehow, sometime, someway, I will get that blonde angel in my bed."
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Gerard doodled thoughtlessly, ignoring the little girl excitedly telling him that she wanted a butterfly. Face painting in the porch outside the store was a sad part of his job. Swirling his sponge in the black, Gerard dabbed it onto the little girl's face. He watched Dean draw on the till. Dean was a beautiful girl, despite her name. When she had shown Gerard the ropes when he was first hired, her excuse for her name was that she had a mother who thought she was funny. Dean was strange. Gerard decided he could think a girl was beautiful, it didn't mean that he liked her or anything. God forbid. Of course he didn't like her, he just noticed how tall she was and the way her brown-blonde, red-in-the-light hair fell over her shoulder and the way she blew her side fringe out of her face. He just noticed things that anyone would notice, like how she tapped music out onto the till and how she carried a small black notebook in her shoulder, string bag and she wrote in it during lunch and when the store was quiet and how her wide, dark green eyes followed him when he walked, but unfortunately, also followed Bert who was indeed, his best friend. Of course he didn't like her. He liked boys. Simple. Yes, Gerard thought, watching his brother walk up to Dean and kiss her, simple indeed.
Gerard sighed, and began to pack up his things, pointedly ignoring the little girl's cries that she had wanted a butterfly, not fangs and he was a meany-head!
Perhaps he needed Bert and one of his infamous Plans. Yes, Gerard decided, waving goodbye to Dean and Mikey, what he needed was a Plan.
Prologue and chapter one.
It was a long day at the Fastpass. The creaking fans overhead spun dust over the huge Wall Mart-like store. Gerard scratched his chin idly, leaning over the till counter as he watched Bert trip over and land on the tall cardboard display of Jim Carrey near the DVD aisle. "Gee! Gee! Hi Gee!" Frank appeared at his elbow, grinning and bouncing on his toes. Gerard nodded stiffly to him and continued to watch Bert as he stumbled to the counter. Finally there, safe, he leaned over and tapped Gerard's nose. "Do you have a smoke? Jeph's out, which means I'm out." Frank practically threw his cig box at Bert in his excitement. "Err, thanks." Bert offered a smile, and Frank practically orgasmed on the spot. "No problem!" Gerard and Bert shared a Look, and then their boss appeared.
"Bert! Did I not already tell you to go sort the CDs or not?" Matt, the floor manager, (or 'Shadows' as he forced them all to call him) shouted.
"Well, Mr. Shadows, you see," Bert buttered him up, "I have these really sensitive eyes, and the light reflected from the CDs," Bert waved his arms enthusiastically, "they can damage my eyes. So, you see..."
"Cut the crap McCracken. Just go and sort them." Bert frowned and turned to trudge away. "Or, Bert you know what might help your eyes? If you had someone to help you." Shadows grinned deviously, "Frank, why don't you go help Bert out?"
Bert sent Shadows a Look that clearly read as pissed. Scowling, he trudged off with Frank bunnying along happily behind him. Gerard frowned and put his chin in his hands again, sighing in a tortured-teenage-artist-forced-to-work way.
__________________________________________
"Frank, can you maybe put the Shakira ones on to-" Bert sighed, pointing before he realised the obvious height issue. Shadows was clearly an idiot, sending the two shortest guys in the entire store to fix the high shelves. Perhaps it was a well-disguised attempt on their lives? Bert mused as he idly watched Frank tumble off the third shelf and land, looking rather shocked, on his ass. If it was, it was well disguised. Perhaps he was an evil criminal genius, on the run and hiding out as a floor manager. "Maybe someone should go get the step ladder." Bert decided. Frank looked at him and Bert Looked back. Obviously he wasn't going to get it. He was older than Frank, meaning he was in charge. He glared at Frankie until he got the message and trundled off to the storeroom. Bert leaned against the shelves and mused on the possibilities of the entire store being a farce, a distraction for Murdering Shadows to...well, murder his employees. Well, perhaps if-WHOA. "Hi. Um, could you maybe help me?"
"Ungh."
"Err...Right. Do you know where the DVDs are?" A tall, blonde angel was standing in front of Bert. Who was, rather inconviently, stunned.
"Agh..." Giving up entirely on words, Bert just pointed to the next aisle over.
"Thanks!" He replied, giving Bert a tentative smile which caused Bert to lose full control of his knees and flop backwards onto the shelf.
"Bert? I tried to get the ladder but there was a spider on it, and he looked at me an- Oh, h-hi. I'm Frank," Frank grinned, holding a small hand out the blonde angel, who smiled and shook. "Hi Frankie, I'm Quinn," The angel glowed. Bert began to slide down the shelves. "Can I help you?" Frank began to lead Quinn away. A truly horrified Bert landed a well-aimed kick to the back of Frank's knee and knocked him over. He jumped up and placed a hand on Quinn's elbow. "Bert!" Bert squeaked, too happy to have found actual words to care that he squeaked. Well, one word. His name. But it still counted! "R-right..." Quinn's gaze flew around. "I should go, my friends are..." Too weirded out to form a complete sentence, he just darted off. Bert chose to believe that this was just because he was so stunned by Bert's beauty, his eyes couldn't stand it. Daydreaming, he knelt in front of Frank and gripped his collar. "If you touch him, if you talk to him, if you look at him, I will cheerfully slice your balls off with a Beyonce CD." He threatened a truly terrified Frank. Dropping Frank, Bert climbed the shelves and held his hand out for his young helper to hand him up the box of CDs, ignoring Frank's "Why couldn't you do that in the first place?!"
"Frank, my dear pal, I do believe I have a Plan."
"A plan?" Frank handed Bert the CDs, one by one.
"No, Frank. A Plan. With a capital 'P'," Bert shook his head and stacked the disks.
Wondering how the hell Bert had known he hadn't capitalised it, Frank nodded wisely and handed Bert another ten CDs. "What is your Plan, exactly?"
Bert grinned devilishly. "Oh, dear Frankie. You'll see. You will see."
"Does that mean you don't know yet?" Frank dared to ask.
Bert frowned. "Well, yes. But not for long. Call Gerard and tell him I need to talk to him tonight."
"Do you know what the Plan concerns yet, Bert?"
Bert finished stacked, and jumped down beside a startled Frank. "Of course," he sniffed. "The Plan is, that somehow, sometime, someway, I will get that blonde angel in my bed."
_________________________________________________
Gerard doodled thoughtlessly, ignoring the little girl excitedly telling him that she wanted a butterfly. Face painting in the porch outside the store was a sad part of his job. Swirling his sponge in the black, Gerard dabbed it onto the little girl's face. He watched Dean draw on the till. Dean was a beautiful girl, despite her name. When she had shown Gerard the ropes when he was first hired, her excuse for her name was that she had a mother who thought she was funny. Dean was strange. Gerard decided he could think a girl was beautiful, it didn't mean that he liked her or anything. God forbid. Of course he didn't like her, he just noticed how tall she was and the way her brown-blonde, red-in-the-light hair fell over her shoulder and the way she blew her side fringe out of her face. He just noticed things that anyone would notice, like how she tapped music out onto the till and how she carried a small black notebook in her shoulder, string bag and she wrote in it during lunch and when the store was quiet and how her wide, dark green eyes followed him when he walked, but unfortunately, also followed Bert who was indeed, his best friend. Of course he didn't like her. He liked boys. Simple. Yes, Gerard thought, watching his brother walk up to Dean and kiss her, simple indeed.
Gerard sighed, and began to pack up his things, pointedly ignoring the little girl's cries that she had wanted a butterfly, not fangs and he was a meany-head!
Perhaps he needed Bert and one of his infamous Plans. Yes, Gerard decided, waving goodbye to Dean and Mikey, what he needed was a Plan.
