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PATD/MCR/FOB - Constants - G - Ryan/Bob, Pete/Patrick
This feels like it could be part of a much bigger universe, but for now it should stand alone.
Psychics!
Summary: Psychics were few and far between. For every one there was at least 150 trained Constants (that wasn’t counting the untrained Constants that could sometimes sneak in and lure a Psychic away).
TITLE: Constants
RATING: G
PAIRING: Pete/Patrick, Gerard/Frank, Ryan/Bob hinted at
AUTHOR: Melanie
SUMMARY: Psychics were few and far between. For every one there was at least 150 trained Constants (that wasn’t counting the untrained Constants that could sometimes sneak in and lure a Psychic away).
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own any of these boys and I’m pretty sure that this has never happened.
Constants
Psychics were few and far between. For every one there was at least 150 trained Constants (that wasn’t counting the untrained Constants that could sometimes sneak in and lure a Psychic away).
Bob had been training since he was seven at the Mid-West Institute.
He’d gone there because it was close to his home, it didn’t cost his mom anything to send him there, but there was no money coming in either, not unless he got chosen; if he’d been a Psychic his mom would have had thousands of dollars thrown at her.
There were twelve Institutes, the more Psychics an Institute had in their programs the more money they would get from the Government in forms of grants.
The Institutes wooed Psychics like sports teams used to woo their players. With money and promises.
For each Psychic brought through the door there were anywhere from the 150 to 200 Constants vying for the opportunity to serve alongside them.
The pool of Psychics got smaller, the pool of Constants got bigger.
There’d been violence known to occur when a Psychic was close to choosing their Constant.
The bond between Psychic and Constant was closer then the bonds of marriage, 95% of the time they would become lovers, would marry.
Bob had thought he’d be free to go. He’d been part of Gerard’s group. One of 175 trained Constants that had been vying to be Gerard’s.
Gerard had chosen Frankie, which Bob had thought would be the outcome the first time they met.
Sparks had flown (not quite literally, Frankie had blown up a computer just as Gerard had been led in) when they’d met.
Bob hadn’t been released; there were ten others that had been held back as well. They hadn’t been told why.
They would probably be the last ones to know.
Bob had been looking forward to leaving the Institute; the knowledge that he wouldn’t be called back had filled him with some small measure of relief. He could leave and start trying to figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.
Except he was still at the Institute and rumors had been flying that a mostly untrained Psychic had been found half-dead at his fathers hands. Pete had found him, had heard his Psi-Screams, Patrick, who was Pete’s Constant would neither confirm nor deny.
Bob met Ryan because Patrick insisted, Patrick who didn’t insist on anything except that Pete needed to eat more and that possibly Pete’s meds were wrong.
Patrick had stared at him until he’d agreed to go track down Pete, not that Pete was hard to find for Patrick. Patrick was Pete’s Constant; Patrick would know where Pete was every second of every day.
Pete was in the Infirmary, sitting by the bed of a boy who was covered in bruises and bandages and looked to be sleeping.
Pete had looked up when they entered. Had smiled when he’d seen Patrick and didn’t look confused at seeing Bob there behind Patrick.
Just squeezed the hand that he was holding. The boy opened his eyes and Bob could tell just from looking at him that he was on the good drugs, the stuff you only got when you were really hurt and could prove it.
He looked at Pete and then Patrick and then his eyes locked on Bob and didn’t move again.
Bob felt something pricking against the back of his mind, he was a Constant, he knew what it felt like when a Psychic was probing. He didn’t raise the shields that he’d been taught to construct when he was nine, he just stood there and let the boy look his fill.
Let him see every memory that he had and could feel the second that the boys’ shields lowered; it surprised him that the boy could still shield with the drugs that had to be pumping through his system.
He would learn later that Ryan tested high enough that Institute didn’t really have the capability to label him.
The boys’ lips quirked into something like a smile. Not enough to count as one, but close enough.
“Hi,” Bob said for lack of anything better. Pete and Patrick had moved off to the side, Bob could see them from the corner of his eye, Pete standing behind Patrick, chin resting on his shoulder.
Patrick looked bored but Pete was watching with interest.
“Hi,” the boy said, his eyes were bright and knowing. Bob had seen Gerard look at Frank like that and in the back of his mind he could still feel the boy. He was curled up in there, making himself at home.
“Bob,” he said, even though he already knew. Just like he knew the boys name was Ryan, his favorite flavor of ice cream was Vanilla with hot fudge, that he was not a morning person and that he’d begged his father to stop.
“I know.”
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Psychics!
Summary: Psychics were few and far between. For every one there was at least 150 trained Constants (that wasn’t counting the untrained Constants that could sometimes sneak in and lure a Psychic away).
TITLE: Constants
RATING: G
PAIRING: Pete/Patrick, Gerard/Frank, Ryan/Bob hinted at
AUTHOR: Melanie
SUMMARY: Psychics were few and far between. For every one there was at least 150 trained Constants (that wasn’t counting the untrained Constants that could sometimes sneak in and lure a Psychic away).
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own any of these boys and I’m pretty sure that this has never happened.
Constants
Psychics were few and far between. For every one there was at least 150 trained Constants (that wasn’t counting the untrained Constants that could sometimes sneak in and lure a Psychic away).
Bob had been training since he was seven at the Mid-West Institute.
He’d gone there because it was close to his home, it didn’t cost his mom anything to send him there, but there was no money coming in either, not unless he got chosen; if he’d been a Psychic his mom would have had thousands of dollars thrown at her.
There were twelve Institutes, the more Psychics an Institute had in their programs the more money they would get from the Government in forms of grants.
The Institutes wooed Psychics like sports teams used to woo their players. With money and promises.
For each Psychic brought through the door there were anywhere from the 150 to 200 Constants vying for the opportunity to serve alongside them.
The pool of Psychics got smaller, the pool of Constants got bigger.
There’d been violence known to occur when a Psychic was close to choosing their Constant.
The bond between Psychic and Constant was closer then the bonds of marriage, 95% of the time they would become lovers, would marry.
Bob had thought he’d be free to go. He’d been part of Gerard’s group. One of 175 trained Constants that had been vying to be Gerard’s.
Gerard had chosen Frankie, which Bob had thought would be the outcome the first time they met.
Sparks had flown (not quite literally, Frankie had blown up a computer just as Gerard had been led in) when they’d met.
Bob hadn’t been released; there were ten others that had been held back as well. They hadn’t been told why.
They would probably be the last ones to know.
Bob had been looking forward to leaving the Institute; the knowledge that he wouldn’t be called back had filled him with some small measure of relief. He could leave and start trying to figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.
Except he was still at the Institute and rumors had been flying that a mostly untrained Psychic had been found half-dead at his fathers hands. Pete had found him, had heard his Psi-Screams, Patrick, who was Pete’s Constant would neither confirm nor deny.
Bob met Ryan because Patrick insisted, Patrick who didn’t insist on anything except that Pete needed to eat more and that possibly Pete’s meds were wrong.
Patrick had stared at him until he’d agreed to go track down Pete, not that Pete was hard to find for Patrick. Patrick was Pete’s Constant; Patrick would know where Pete was every second of every day.
Pete was in the Infirmary, sitting by the bed of a boy who was covered in bruises and bandages and looked to be sleeping.
Pete had looked up when they entered. Had smiled when he’d seen Patrick and didn’t look confused at seeing Bob there behind Patrick.
Just squeezed the hand that he was holding. The boy opened his eyes and Bob could tell just from looking at him that he was on the good drugs, the stuff you only got when you were really hurt and could prove it.
He looked at Pete and then Patrick and then his eyes locked on Bob and didn’t move again.
Bob felt something pricking against the back of his mind, he was a Constant, he knew what it felt like when a Psychic was probing. He didn’t raise the shields that he’d been taught to construct when he was nine, he just stood there and let the boy look his fill.
Let him see every memory that he had and could feel the second that the boys’ shields lowered; it surprised him that the boy could still shield with the drugs that had to be pumping through his system.
He would learn later that Ryan tested high enough that Institute didn’t really have the capability to label him.
The boys’ lips quirked into something like a smile. Not enough to count as one, but close enough.
“Hi,” Bob said for lack of anything better. Pete and Patrick had moved off to the side, Bob could see them from the corner of his eye, Pete standing behind Patrick, chin resting on his shoulder.
Patrick looked bored but Pete was watching with interest.
“Hi,” the boy said, his eyes were bright and knowing. Bob had seen Gerard look at Frank like that and in the back of his mind he could still feel the boy. He was curled up in there, making himself at home.
“Bob,” he said, even though he already knew. Just like he knew the boys name was Ryan, his favorite flavor of ice cream was Vanilla with hot fudge, that he was not a morning person and that he’d begged his father to stop.
“I know.”
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Oh! I absolutely love this! I'd really like to read more of this universe and I hope you write it! :)
*goes off to bookmark*
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:D
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“Hi,” the boy said, his eyes were bright and knowing. Bob had seen Gerard look at Frank like that and in the back of his mind he could still feel the boy. He was curled up in there, making himself at home.
“Bob,” he said, even though he already knew. Just like he knew the boys name was Ryan, his favorite flavor of ice cream was Vanilla with hot fudge, that he was not a morning person and that he’d begged his father to stop.
“I know.”
I really loved the ending. You created this entire universe in this story and you made it come alive. Even if you did not expand this (though I seriously hope you do!), this would be completely perfect.
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Oh Ryan. Oh Bob. I love how Ryan knows even when he's in pain (pain cannot stop it) and how solid Bob is.
I would love to read more in the 'verse.
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I just had to comment with how gorgeous this is, and how much I loved it.
And Bob/Ryan! Very very good.
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