Status: Hoping to upload a chapter every Saturday, a little weekend treat :)

Getting Surreal

XXV

“Frank,” Becks tried to get his attention, but he just wouldn’t stop ranting. The small guitar player had received a phone call that the company he’d booked to cater Jamia’s party had fallen through and was now pacing back and forth in his living room, freaking out.

“And what the actual Fuck am I supposed to do now?” He was yelling and throwing his hands around in an obnoxiously Italian sort of way. “It’s ruined. I’m ruined! Fuck, I promised Jamia -”
“Frank,”

“This is the worst fucking thing to -“ Becks shot an irritated look at Mikey beside her whole just shrugged and rolled his eyes.

Frank,”

“I just can’t believe this could happen. Today of all days… The party…”

Becks finally lost her cool.

“FRANK.” She yelled, finally getting him to notice her.

“Becks, what the fuck could be so important right now,” he asked her.

“I can cook-”

“I’m kind of in the middle of a fucking crisis,” he talked over her, not hearing a single word she was trying to convey, “and don’t have time for-“

This time, she cut him off. “I. Can. Cook.” She said each word sharply and clearly, staring him dead in the eye and pointing to herself. Frank froze. Mikey froze. Hell, every single person in the living room where they were stood and anyone on the patio that could hear froze. Becks never yelled, and it was somewhat impressive and a bit scary when she did.

“What?” He asked her, his voice quiet and he sounded so small.

“I can cook,” she repeated, still pointing to herself. “I’m a chef.”

“But, you…I…how…” Frank was struggling for his words, staring at his guitar tech in front of him, nothing but confusion written on his face. “What?”
“Hey,” she stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder, ducking her head a little so she could look up into his eyes. “It’s what I did before I became your tech. Hell, it’s what I went to school for. I’m a chef. I cook.” She watched his face closely.

“B-but it’s so much and…I…y-you can?”

Becks smiled. “Yeah, I can, okay?”

There was a moment of silence, then, “Fuck!” Frank cried, relieved, then pulled Becks into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he said, relieved. “You’re a godsend.” Becks smiled and reciprocated his hug.

“I need you to get me a list of what you want to serve, okay?” Frank nodded and ran off to the kitchen.

“Well,” Mikey said as he sidled up next to Becks and threw an arm across her shoulders, pulling her close so he could whisper in her ear. She noted the room slowly falling back into its original bustle of conversations. “I think every man in this room just fell in love with you.” Then he chuckled, shot her a smirk, and walked out to talk to Ray on the patio.

Becks just stood where she was, a confused sort of smile on her face, watching him go.

---

Frank and Jamia’s party went off without a hitch, and by the end of it, Becks was more than exhausted and ready for bed. She’d spent almost the whole day, after she’d told Frank that she could cook, in the kitchen (after a quick planning session and run to the grocery store with the small bundle of energy that was Frank Iero) cooking and cleaning. She wasn’t sure exactly on the number of people served, but she knew that she’d cooked up a storm. While Frank was out playing host, she was dishing out plate after plate of (if she could say so herself) delicious food to all his guests.

Occasionally, Mikey or Ray would come in and keep her company, helping her out until she shooed them back to the party, grateful for their efforts but not wanting them to miss any fun. She smiled, thinking back.

“How’s it going?” Mikey asked her from the doorway.

“Uh, it’s going…well…I think,” Becks replied without looking at him, too concerned with chopping up the large stacks of vegetables in front of her. Mikey gave a small frown and moved from the doorframe he was leaning on, walking up beside her and putting his hand out as though he meant to place it on the small of her back, but deciding against it at the last second, letting it drop.

“You think?” He asked.

“Uh, yeah…I’m pretty sure I’ve got everything timed right and I’ve got all the ingredients, and…I,” she was rambling as she diced onion after onion so quickly and with such precision that Mikey was way more than impressed.

“Becks,” he said, laying his hand gently on her wrist, now. She stilled and finally looked up at him, stress written all over her face. He just gazed down at her in fondness and concern. “Can I help?” Becks let out a small sigh, then nodded.

“Could you, uh…” she looked behind her, gauging the pots and pans that Frank owned. “Could you fill that one with water and put it on the stove to boil?” Mikey shot her a ‘can-do’smile.

“Yeah,” and he went off to do as she asked. “Anything else?” He noted she was still frowning in concentration.

“Throw a small handful of salt in there?” She asked him without looking up from the vegetables she’d returned to cutting.

“You got it, boss.” He said, and when he looked at her this time, she was smiling. He warmed at this and complied. “Okay,” he said when he’d added the salt, “what now?” He snuck a hand near where she was chopping up a mountain of carrots, now, and snagged a piece for himself.

“Hey!” She cried, turning to him and holding the knife out at him in a menacing manner, though her tiny smile betrayed any ounce of terror she could try to instill. Mikey threw his hands in the air in a ‘guilty as charged’ fashion, but just smiled back at her. “That’s for my dish! You keep doing that, and I’ll have to kick you out.”

Mikey gave a look of consideration before lowering his hands and taking a step so he was just inches in front of Becks.

“You,” he said quietly, leaning down slightly towards her,

“Don’t scare,” his placed one hand on her waist, stilling her, and the other around hers that held the knife, still angling himself
closer


“Me.”

He was so close at this point that he his lips were almost touching her ear as he whispered the last word, pulling the knife with ease out of her hand as he spoke it.

Becks felt her breath hitch as Mikey pulled away from her slightly. She didn’t know how to respond, so she just looked up at him imploringly, taking in his playful, barely there grin and the way his eyes seemed to twinkle just a bit behind his glasses.

“Becks! How’s it all coming?” Frank’s voice broke her from her trance and she blinked, looking away from Mikey to the door where Frank stood. He looked a little stressed, but she could tell he was happy, nonetheless.

“I-it’s good,” she replied and the small guitar player nodded, appeased, and rushed off to continue hosting.

When she looked back at Mikey, she took a moment to take his appearance fully in. He didn’t look too much different from the normal Mikey, his hair straightened and tucked under his glasses as usual. Instead of an old band t-shirt, though, he was wearing a black button-down shirt tucked into some black skinny jeans, and boy, did he wear it well. Looking back up into his eyes, she smiled.

“You look good, Mikey Way,” she told him and watched his playful grin turned shy. “I should probably get back to cooking, though. And you,” she said boldly, raising an eyebrow and pointing at him, “look too good to be stuck in the kitchen with me.”

Mikey just stared at her for a second before holding the knife he’d stolen from her out, handle up. “I believe this is yours, madame” he said in a dramatic voice.

“I do believe you’re right,” she mimicked his tone, giving him one last smile. “Thanks for the help, Mikey.”

She watched silently as he walked out of the kitchen.

She was just cleaning up the last cooking pan when she heard her name and turned to see Frank in the doorway, looking equally as tired as she, but as happy as he always seemed when he came off stage. It made Becks smile. “Hey,” she greeted quietly.

“What did I ever do without you?” Frank asked as he walked up to her and pulled her into a sleepy, comfortable, and caring sort of hug that Becks all but melted into.

“I dunno, probably ran around like a chicken with its head cut off,” she joked into his shoulder. He just sighed in response. “How did it all go out there?”

“Well. Really well, I think,” Frank replied, pulling away from the embrace to get a good look at his friend. “You look exhausted.”

“I feel exhausted,” she replied with a small chuckle. “Was the food good enough?”

“Fuck, Becks, it was so good. Fuckin’ delicious.” He shook his head for a moment then looked around his near spotless kitchen. If he didn’t know for a fact that she had been slaving in there here all day, he’d never believed someone had even cooked there at all. “How the hell did I not know you could cook like that?”

Becks shrugged. “I don’t know, guess it never really came up before.”

“Well, you’re amazing. You didn’t have to clean, you know.”

“Uh,” she looked around at the kitchen then back at Frank, a bemused expression on her face. “I guess it was just habit. Cleaning calms me down after a cooking rush, I guess.” Frank laughed.

“Alright then. I mean, I’m definitely not complaining.” He looked his tech over once again. “What would you say to some beers and a movie to wind down from today?”

“Sounds like heaven,” she replied, heading towards the door to the living room.
♠ ♠ ♠
Hey, guys! Hope you enjoyed! I feel like things are finally rolling in this fic, here. haha.

Thank you, VersaVulture, as always for your lovely comment :)

And in case A7X_LOVER13 missed my thanks last week, I'll say it again: glad you're loving and your comment made my week last week!

Have a good weekend! :)