twelve days (b/g)
Gerard/Bert
PG
written December 2007
12 x 100-word drabbles written for the bert_and_gerard 12 Days of Christmas challenge.
He feels the rasp of pine needles against his cheek, and closes his eyes as he inhales the warm, clean scent. It's the end of the year and that means new beginnings. It means renewal, and by God, he wishes he could hibernate like a bear for a few months and reappear with the springtime sun, alive again.
Instead, he's gonna curl up on the sofa for a few days with mugs of cocoa and enough turkey to make his stomach ache, wrapped in the arms of the person he loves more than anything in the world.
This is Christmas.
***
Bert stumbles into the living room, his snow-encrusted shoes tracking mud across the carpet, and grins as he sees Gerard leaning against the tree. His eyes are closed and he looks peaceful, the lines of tension on his face wiped smooth. Bert smiles again, more gently this time, and tiptoes across the room until he's standing behind Gerard. With a contented sigh, he slides his arms around Gerard's waist and nuzzles his neck before pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade.
"Hey."
Gerard hums happily. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to be jealous of the tree."
***
Bert flings himself down on the couch and kicks off his shoes. It's much warmer inside than out; he can feel the life returning to his chilled fingertips, the end of his nose.
"Got your present today," he says casually, as if he's talking about the weather. He leans back, eyes half-closed, but he doesn't miss the flash of interest in Gerard's eyes.
"Oh?"
Gerard fails at being nonchalant, and Bert can't stop himself laughing. "I'm not gonna tell you what it is, so don't bother asking."
"I wasn't going to. Anyway ... if it's from you, it'll be perfect."
***
The photograph on the mantel is surrounded by Christmas cards. It's the same picture that Gerard's mother gave Bert for his birthday a few years before -- a snapshot of two young, grinning lovers that never fails to make Bert smile. Gerard has his own copy, which he keeps at his place. Bert tells people it's for masturbation purposes when they're apart, but Gerard scoffs at the thought; it should be obvious his cellphone is his best friend when he's lonely and horny. He's got Bert on speed-dial, after all.
He saves the photo for his more romantic, dreamy moods.
***
Bert remembers when he hated Christmas; hated the formality, the goddamn boredom of it. Church in the morning, prayers in the afternoon, gifts at night. As a kid, he never got anything he wanted -- just an endless procession of socks and underwear and sports gear and "improving books". He can picture it now; he can still feel his disappointment. So he'd start fights and throw food before slinking off to bed, sulking and hoping next Christmas would be better.
Sometimes he forgets how much things have changed. Because now, he's got the greatest gift he could have dreamed of.
***
"Whatcha doing?" Gerard asks as he sits beside Bert on the couch, a steaming mug of coffee in his hands. Bert takes a deep breath -- he relishes the smell, even if he's not always a fan of the taste.
"Thinking."
"Mmm? About what?"
"What are you, a chick?" Bert says, a grin spreading over his face.
"It's just a question."
Bert shakes his head. "You don't wanna know."
"Sure?"
"Yeah."
"Okay." Gerard sips his coffee; Bert closes his eyes. They're silent -- until Bert throws his hands in the air.
"You, okay? I was thinking about you. Happy now?"
***
Gerard throws his head back and laughs, eyes closed and mouth open. It's an almost musical sound to Bert, and although he's embarrassed, he can't help joining in. He wants to absorb this moment, drink it in, because times like this are rare. A few weeks ago they hadn't even been talking -- now they're sitting side-by-side on the couch, grinning stupidly at each other. Loving each other.
When Bert closes his eyes, Gerard leans across to kiss his cheek. His lips linger against the skin, inching towards his mouth.
"What did I ever do without you?" he says softly.
***
They lie on the sofa kissing until they're half-asleep, limbs heavy, lips bruised and tingling. At one point Gerard kicks the coffee table, dislodging his cup and spilling its contents on the carpet, but when he moves to clean it up, Bert pulls him back.
"Leave it. S'Christmas," he murmurs, and Gerard doesn't protest as Bert drags him off to bed.
The next morning, Bert watches as Gerard crawls across the living room floor, looking for the muddy-coloured stain. He knows Gerard won't find it, but that doesn't stop him appreciating the view.
"Where is it?"
Bert shrugs. "Couldn't sleep."
***
They'd made a pact, lost in the static of cross-continental phone calls and mumbled apologies. No mention of past, present or future circumstances; just be here -- with me -- and focus on right now. Don't let our lives colour our Christmas.
Our last Christmas.
Give me one last Christmas with you, he'd said. I'll never ask for anything again.
Gerard had closed his eyes, thinking ask me anything -- I'd give you everything -- just let me see you, hear you, touch you, as Bert whispered his request.
He bit his lip until he could speak without breaking down.
***
"I need you," he'd whispered into the phone, the weight lifting as soon as he spoke -- only to be replaced with the silence of every second without a response.
Bert felt like a fool. Again.
He hated being in love with someone he almost hated. Someone who ignored him, who'd put the whole damn country between them, who left this sick, lonely ache in his chest and stomach. Dammit, he needed to be close to Gerard, even if it was for the last time. Especially if it was the last time.
"I need you too," was the hoarse reply.
***
They remember their clumsy words as they lie in bed on Christmas morning, wrapped more tightly in each other than the gifts in their ribbons lying under the tree. Gerard's bare skin prickles as Bert breathes against it; Bert shivers at the feel of Gerard's gentle fingers in his hair. They're close enough to be a single entity, a fusion of body and mind -- Gerardbert, Bertgerard. Harmony in discordance. Completion, redemption. Love.
It won't last, but that doesn't matter. Not today. Not on Christmas morning.
Outside it's snowing, and the world looks clean and white.
Can we start over?
***
Dreams are free, but reality costs a hell of a lot, Bert thinks as he watches Gerard's plane take off; back to New Jersey, back to his wife. The word -- even the thought of it -- leaves a foul taste in his mouth. Imagining that ring on her finger is worse.
She's not the even the reason they're apart, but damn, she's an easy target. Gerard says she understands, but Bert is sceptical. It doesn't make sense. It's another crash-and-burn waiting to happen. Another breakdown. More tears.
At least he'll be there to pick up the pieces this time.
PG
written December 2007
12 x 100-word drabbles written for the bert_and_gerard 12 Days of Christmas challenge.
He feels the rasp of pine needles against his cheek, and closes his eyes as he inhales the warm, clean scent. It's the end of the year and that means new beginnings. It means renewal, and by God, he wishes he could hibernate like a bear for a few months and reappear with the springtime sun, alive again.
Instead, he's gonna curl up on the sofa for a few days with mugs of cocoa and enough turkey to make his stomach ache, wrapped in the arms of the person he loves more than anything in the world.
This is Christmas.
***
Bert stumbles into the living room, his snow-encrusted shoes tracking mud across the carpet, and grins as he sees Gerard leaning against the tree. His eyes are closed and he looks peaceful, the lines of tension on his face wiped smooth. Bert smiles again, more gently this time, and tiptoes across the room until he's standing behind Gerard. With a contented sigh, he slides his arms around Gerard's waist and nuzzles his neck before pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade.
"Hey."
Gerard hums happily. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to be jealous of the tree."
***
Bert flings himself down on the couch and kicks off his shoes. It's much warmer inside than out; he can feel the life returning to his chilled fingertips, the end of his nose.
"Got your present today," he says casually, as if he's talking about the weather. He leans back, eyes half-closed, but he doesn't miss the flash of interest in Gerard's eyes.
"Oh?"
Gerard fails at being nonchalant, and Bert can't stop himself laughing. "I'm not gonna tell you what it is, so don't bother asking."
"I wasn't going to. Anyway ... if it's from you, it'll be perfect."
***
The photograph on the mantel is surrounded by Christmas cards. It's the same picture that Gerard's mother gave Bert for his birthday a few years before -- a snapshot of two young, grinning lovers that never fails to make Bert smile. Gerard has his own copy, which he keeps at his place. Bert tells people it's for masturbation purposes when they're apart, but Gerard scoffs at the thought; it should be obvious his cellphone is his best friend when he's lonely and horny. He's got Bert on speed-dial, after all.
He saves the photo for his more romantic, dreamy moods.
***
Bert remembers when he hated Christmas; hated the formality, the goddamn boredom of it. Church in the morning, prayers in the afternoon, gifts at night. As a kid, he never got anything he wanted -- just an endless procession of socks and underwear and sports gear and "improving books". He can picture it now; he can still feel his disappointment. So he'd start fights and throw food before slinking off to bed, sulking and hoping next Christmas would be better.
Sometimes he forgets how much things have changed. Because now, he's got the greatest gift he could have dreamed of.
***
"Whatcha doing?" Gerard asks as he sits beside Bert on the couch, a steaming mug of coffee in his hands. Bert takes a deep breath -- he relishes the smell, even if he's not always a fan of the taste.
"Thinking."
"Mmm? About what?"
"What are you, a chick?" Bert says, a grin spreading over his face.
"It's just a question."
Bert shakes his head. "You don't wanna know."
"Sure?"
"Yeah."
"Okay." Gerard sips his coffee; Bert closes his eyes. They're silent -- until Bert throws his hands in the air.
"You, okay? I was thinking about you. Happy now?"
***
Gerard throws his head back and laughs, eyes closed and mouth open. It's an almost musical sound to Bert, and although he's embarrassed, he can't help joining in. He wants to absorb this moment, drink it in, because times like this are rare. A few weeks ago they hadn't even been talking -- now they're sitting side-by-side on the couch, grinning stupidly at each other. Loving each other.
When Bert closes his eyes, Gerard leans across to kiss his cheek. His lips linger against the skin, inching towards his mouth.
"What did I ever do without you?" he says softly.
***
They lie on the sofa kissing until they're half-asleep, limbs heavy, lips bruised and tingling. At one point Gerard kicks the coffee table, dislodging his cup and spilling its contents on the carpet, but when he moves to clean it up, Bert pulls him back.
"Leave it. S'Christmas," he murmurs, and Gerard doesn't protest as Bert drags him off to bed.
The next morning, Bert watches as Gerard crawls across the living room floor, looking for the muddy-coloured stain. He knows Gerard won't find it, but that doesn't stop him appreciating the view.
"Where is it?"
Bert shrugs. "Couldn't sleep."
***
They'd made a pact, lost in the static of cross-continental phone calls and mumbled apologies. No mention of past, present or future circumstances; just be here -- with me -- and focus on right now. Don't let our lives colour our Christmas.
Our last Christmas.
Give me one last Christmas with you, he'd said. I'll never ask for anything again.
Gerard had closed his eyes, thinking ask me anything -- I'd give you everything -- just let me see you, hear you, touch you, as Bert whispered his request.
He bit his lip until he could speak without breaking down.
***
"I need you," he'd whispered into the phone, the weight lifting as soon as he spoke -- only to be replaced with the silence of every second without a response.
Bert felt like a fool. Again.
He hated being in love with someone he almost hated. Someone who ignored him, who'd put the whole damn country between them, who left this sick, lonely ache in his chest and stomach. Dammit, he needed to be close to Gerard, even if it was for the last time. Especially if it was the last time.
"I need you too," was the hoarse reply.
***
They remember their clumsy words as they lie in bed on Christmas morning, wrapped more tightly in each other than the gifts in their ribbons lying under the tree. Gerard's bare skin prickles as Bert breathes against it; Bert shivers at the feel of Gerard's gentle fingers in his hair. They're close enough to be a single entity, a fusion of body and mind -- Gerardbert, Bertgerard. Harmony in discordance. Completion, redemption. Love.
It won't last, but that doesn't matter. Not today. Not on Christmas morning.
Outside it's snowing, and the world looks clean and white.
Can we start over?
***
Dreams are free, but reality costs a hell of a lot, Bert thinks as he watches Gerard's plane take off; back to New Jersey, back to his wife. The word -- even the thought of it -- leaves a foul taste in his mouth. Imagining that ring on her finger is worse.
She's not the even the reason they're apart, but damn, she's an easy target. Gerard says she understands, but Bert is sceptical. It doesn't make sense. It's another crash-and-burn waiting to happen. Another breakdown. More tears.
At least he'll be there to pick up the pieces this time.