Quick Background

Frank is a universal character that I've reused quite a few times. Any odd references to things that don't make sense to you are most likely from past stories, which I'm too lazy to either explain or write around. The main one, which is available for your perusal, is the sort-of-prequel to this story, But She's A Guy. If you're like me, and you're just reading this for the super steamy sex scenes, here's a recap: Frank posed as a man in order to enter the merc business, caught the eye of Jayne after joining the crew, had a very complicated sexual relationship that eventually led to him finding out she was a girl and that they were in love. This is where the crossover starts. In between that story and this one, Frank died, but since she's some sort of magical freak, she got sent to New Vegas where she befriended Boone, kicked the Legion's ass, and somehow got thrown, with Boone, back into the Firefly world (smelling a lot of if coming off this plan). Since then, the three of them have started yet another complicated relationship, due to the fact that no one was willing to give anybody up so the others could be happy. Sounds interesting? Too bad. It's staying as a dialogue on my PC.

So assuming you're still here, 'cause frankly, I wouldn't be, try not to be too confused and just accept the premise as a great excuse for a juicy threesome involving two gorgeous hunks we all love and pine after. Oh, and if you are just here for the smexing and don't give a fuck about plotlines, feel free to skip ahead to chapter six. No one would blame you.

~Frankly My Dear…

-/-/-

One

Frank sauntered into the room, his nonchalance belying the fact that he truly belonged in this world. It was any man's fantasy: a wall of firearms on one side, complete with benches and tables set up for maintenance and modification purposes, a makeshift gym and weight station on the other, with leather couches and armchairs in the middle for those not honing their weapons or their bodies. Sweat, beer and gun oil permeated the air, making for a macho potpourri.

Frank, however, barely registered any of this. His eyes zeroed in on the activity in the far corner, and quietly popped every knuckle in his hands as they clenched into fists. His chest tightened and his stomach dropped. His desire to destroy the entire room and everyone in it was nearly impossible to resist, especially when the grunting picked up volume, but he forced himself to stay where he was for the moment. Control was key.

He relaxed slightly as he saw a man approaching him, the casual swagger something he was used to seeing. "Thomas, you sumbitch," he said amicably, reaching out to grip his old friend's forearm. "How long's it been?"

Thomas grinned, reminding Frank how much the man enjoyed his line of work as the creases around his mouth deepened and fell into place. "You mean since you ran off and took the best gig in the 'verse, leaving me to rot on the Rim? Too ruttin' long, asswipe."

Frank nodded to the corner in the back. "Looks like I left just in time if that's what you're doing to new recruits," he commented darkly. It was difficult to conceal his distaste. Even harder to not start swinging.

Thomas turned, giving a derisive snort as he watched for a moment. The angle was just so that you couldn't really tell who was involved, but it wasn't hard to figure out that one of the men involved wasn't there voluntarily, tied as he was to a hook on the wall. "Nah," Thomas offered with a dismissive wave of his hand. "He ain't one of ours. Tried to take a job that weren't his, so now he's learning a lesson." He considered Frank for a moment, assessing his reaction to the statement. "You want a go?" he finally offered. He knew Frank didn't normally participate in such recreations, but hey. The Black can change a man.

Frank paused, looking thoughtful. Finally he sighed. "Why not?" he shrugged noncommittally. "Trim's been hard to come by recently." A blatant fucking lie, but good ole Tommy Boy didn't need to know that. Better that he didn't see what was coming.

Thomas nodded, feeling pleased his friend was finally living the lifestyle in the full. He'd had his reservations about the merc. Always seemed to stick his nose in the air when it came to the darker aspects of the trade. "We've all had a go or two, so you can go when Jim's done." He began to head for the couches, expecting Frank to join him. "If you don't mind me asking, what brings you back?"

Frank remained standing, although he did position himself closer to the two men in the corner. "The usual," was all he offered.

Thomas propped his feet up on a low table, chuckling to himself. "Yeah, money always has us crawling back, don't it?"

Frank didn't answer, his view of the corner better than it had been thus far, and now that he could see everything, he couldn't look away. Jim, he presumed, was the man closest to him, and had his eyes screwed shut, murmuring something under his breath like he was completely lost in a fantasy. The other man, however, stared straight ahead, his face stony and eyes tight. He was doing his best to breathe normally, like that would make everything just a bad dream. It was his face that Frank couldn't turn from.

Jim sped up again, chasing whatever it was he was seeking, and the other man grunted despite himself as his hips were jerked so violently, the rope around his raised arms dug into his wrists and Frank could see blood. That did it. Frank was on Jim and ripping him back before the thought had even crossed his mind. So much for control.

Jim stumbled, confused for a moment before finding himself indignant at being hefted by the collar with his straining diao still hanging out the front of his pants. "Cao, man, I wasn't done yet! Wait your rutting turn!"

Frank dodged his reaching hands as the man tried to dislodge him. Glancing around, he realized Thomas was the only one who had noticed the disturbance thus far, and he was simply looking on with mild curiosity. Frank nodded even though Jim couldn't see the movement, the calm action merely a facade as he boiled inside. "It is my turn," he spat just loud enough for the man to hear. Lightning fast, he drew a heavy combat knife and slit Jim's throat.

Before the bastard crumpled to the ground, Frank had turned, dropped the knife and pulled out matching ten mill semi-autos, putting the first half a dozen bullets through the men who were closest to the armory. That's when all hell broke loose, and all Frank was aware of was the blur of motion around him and the guns in his hands. Thirty seconds later, the room was still, and only three men still breathing.

Coming out of his red haze of rage, Frank realized he was standing over his friend, his nearly empty piece trained on Thomas' skull as he steadily heaved air into his screaming lungs. Apparently breathing hadn't been important a minute ago. "H-hey now, Frank," Thomas stuttered, raising his arms in surrender. "You wouldn't kill an old friend, would ya?" he asked nervously.

Frank continued to stare at the man on the floor for a moment, watching as he flinched when the door flung open and three more fully armed people glided in. The captain, first mate, and hired gun. Thomas visibly shrank as it sunk in that he was now outnumbered. The newcomers swept the room, clearing it as they kicked away weapons and checked for pulses. Frank didn't move.

Mal couldn't believe his eyes. He'd known the merc he'd hired was good, but this... He'd rushed in as soon as heard the first shots, sure his man would be dead and that some revenge would be in order. Instead, there were at least a dozen seasoned mercs strewn across the floor, and Frank without a scratch on him. Only a demon could cause such destruction in mere seconds. He looked wided-eyed at the man, as though seeing him for the first time. "Frank?" he asked, uncertain what exactly he was asking.

That pulled the merc out of his reverie and his eyes fully cleared. Quietly, he de-cocked his gun, slowly putting it in his shoulder holster. "You're right," he said in answer to Thomas' question as he crouched down in front of the man at his feet. Holding his gaze, he repeated, "You are an old friend." He heard the sound of a knife being drawn and saw Thomas flick his gaze to the corner for a moment, finally understanding the reason for the unprecedented attack before whipping his eyes back to Frank. "For that reason alone, I'll let you live."

"Tha-" he started to breathe in relief, but Frank got in his face, leaning in further, a dangerous glint in his stare.

"You will learn another lesson today," he said, his low tone laced with cold malice.

"What's that, old friend?" Thomas managed to ask without his voice betraying him. He swallowed hard, waiting as Frank ensured he had his full attention.

"No one," he intoned, personifying the term dead serious, "and I mean no one, fucks Frank's partner. Dong ma?" The man nodded adamantly while Frank stared him straight in the eye. He stood before Thomas had the chance to explain that he hadn't known the man was his partner, turning his back on everyone still breathing. Even the man he'd just rescued. "Leave," was all he said after a moment, and Thomas didn't hesitate to scramble to his feet and beat it out the door, grateful for his fortune that evening. "Is he gone?"

Jayne looked up from where he was tending to the half conscious man in his arms. If it'd been his friend, the man wouldn't be leaving of his own power. "Yeah, the hundan is gone," he growled. Frank sighed, drawing his attention, and he watched as the man blurred before him. A moment later, his partner stood there, all curly brown hair and curves. Buddha but she was gorgeous, all covered in sweat and blood after a fight. He didn't mind the man, but it was the girl he'd fallen for.

She walked quickly over, ignoring Mal and Zoe as they shook their heads. They still either weren't used to, or didn't like the fact that Frank wore a glamour around them for so long. It was easy to forget after a while, but during moments like these, when she had to interact with older crowds who thought she was a man, the glamour was a necessary evil. Like today; they wouldn't have been able to penetrate this deep into a mercenary safe house without it. Jayne grimly admitted that they probably wouldn't have been able to save their other partner's life, either. It was too close a call in his book.

Frank put her hands on the man's arm, lifting it over her shoulders. "Come on, love," she murmured as together they helped him to his feet. Jayne hefted his other arm, not pointing out that he could have carried him out himself, but silently accepting that Frank needed to be a part of this. Hell, it might have even been because she didn't trust him. And I mean no one fucks Frank's partner. Had that been a direct threat to him instead of the other merc? Jayne flinched. It was bad enough knowing he'd been the one to put their partner in this situation, it was another entirely if Frank blamed him too. He didn't know what he'd do if they tried to exclude him now.

Mal took point, clearing the way back to the ship, allowing Zoe to cover their six to make sure no threats followed, but Jayne wasn't worried. Frank was a rutting machine when it came to killing. There wouldn't be anyone else.

The rest of the crew met them at the airlock, save River who was at the ready to whisk them off to the safety of the Black. Simon stepped forward, pulling a gurney at his side, and assisted as they lowered the injured man onto it. They were all somber and for once silent as they rolled him into the welcoming belly of Serenity.