second glances
Gerard/Bert
Standalone
R (swearing, sex)
written March 2008
For bert_and_gerard Remix Challenge. Inspired by Marshmallow by silhouettes1.
Gerard was looking at him again.
He was always looking at him these days, or so it seemed; those muddy green eyes heavily lidded and nonchalant, then suddenly opening wide, as if he'd found the holy grail. Lips slightly parted, hair a mess, traces of makeup still smeared on his skin, and those fucking eyes daring him to stare back ...
Yeah, it was official: Bert wanted him. Badly. It didn't matter that he was a guy; there was something so fucking attractive about Gerard, damn him to hell. There was a fine vein of steel running through him, keeping him going, even if Bert was the only one who could see it. He was goofy and imaginative and real and he had the most kissable little lopsided mouth Bert had ever seen. But he couldn't have him, and that, quite frankly, sucked. He would have made a move if they hadn't crossed so firmly into friendship territory. A few months earlier, maybe, he might have tried ... but now? No way (Bert cringed at the pun). They'd shared far too many drunken secrets and bad relationship stories. They knew each other's worst habits and insecurities inside out. It would be a fucking disaster.
So Bert, sighing and feeling a little bit sorry for himself, focused on the bonfire roaring in front of him and crossed his arms over his chest. It was getting ridiculous. Because the more he thought about Gerard, the more he wanted him. And the more he wanted him, the more Gerard seemed to watch him. And the more Gerard watched him, the more Bert thought about him.
Fuck this.
He shook his head, feeling the heat of the fire reddening his cheeks, and refused to look at Gerard. Thank God for peripheral vision ...
The show had ended a few hours before, and the guys had decided to crack open a few beers and build up a bonfire. Somehow, Bert and Gerard had ended up on opposite sides of the parking lot -- usually they were side by side, drinking and laughing, generally being idiots. That was one of the best things about Gerard, Bert thought; he accepted idiocy in others and always joined in. But this time Gerard was on his own, leaning against one of the buses, a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, beer in hand. Staring at Bert from the shadows.
They were both silent, and around them there was nothing but noise. The bonfire crackled loudly, hissing when the flames licked around damp wood or shiny tape on cardboard; music blared from one of the buses, occasionally drowned out by loud laughter and the clinking of glass bottles. Quinn stood beside Bert, roasting marshmallows over the fire and talking to anyone who'd listen; Jeph and Frank had stripped off their shirts a few minutes before to compare tattoos but now seemed to be wrestling. Ray, strumming his guitar absent-mindedly, sat cross-legged on the asphalt talking to Branden and Bob, his drum tech. The other techs had gone in pursuit of girls to bring back to the party. Matt was opening another case of beer and passing the bottles to Mikey, who handed them on to anyone who looked thirsty -- and quietly stole marshmallows from the bag at Quinn's feet.
It took Quinn a while to notice there were so many marshmallows missing; when he pulled the roasted ones from the skewer and reached for the bag to add new ones, he found it almost empty. So Mikey ran and hid behind Jeph, laughing as if he'd got away with taking a priceless artwork from the Louvre, and Quinn shouted a few curses, then shrugged and went back to skewering the few that remained. It was hard to annoy someone who smoked so much weed.
Bert smiled absent-mindedly at the chaos around him and shook his head, but his mind was elsewhere. If he didn't do something about this -- this thing with Gerard, he knew he'd regret it. He couldn't stand the thought of lingering in this weird-ass limbo, thinking what if ... ? No, it was far better to make a move even if it came to nothing, he thought as he pushed his hands into his pockets and glanced across at Gerard. Their eyes met and not even the darkening skies could hide the colour that sprang to Gerard's face. He stood there, half-empty beer bottle dangling loosely from his fingers, blinking slowly and biting on his lower lip. Bert's mouth twisted into a broad grin and he nearly laughed out loud. Feebly, Gerard's mouth twitched in reply.
This was good. This was -- hopeful? Bert didn't know what the fuck he was thinking. It's too early to be this delusional, he told himself, trying to calm the surge of excitement in his blood. Or is it the perfect fucking time?
Quinn shoved the plate of roasted marshmallows into Bert's eyeline and he took one, rolling the warm confectionery between thumb and forefinger for a second but never taking his eyes from Gerard's. Slowly -- seductively (he hoped) -- Bert put the roasted marshmallow to his mouth and eased it between his lips, then bit down. Gerard's skin flushed more deeply, if that were possible, as Bert chewed on the candy, lips pursed, eyes fixed on Gerard's face. He swallowed, then desided to suck on his index finger, pushing it in all the way to the knuckle before withdrawing it slowly and turning his attention to his middle finger. Jesus, Bert thought, if this doesn't say I-want-to-suck-your-cock, nothing will.
Gerard shifted uncomfortably but didn't look away. Bert recognised that movement; he'd done it himself, many times, when he'd been trying to hide an ere--
Oh.
It was definitely time to do something. Grabbing another marshmallow from the plate, Bert strolled across to the bus. His stomach churned with nerves and there was a tightness in his chest, but he ignored it all and flashed a grin at Gerard as he leaned against the side of the bus.
"Hey," he said softly. They were a few feet apart and Bert moved closer -- close enough to smell the beer on his breath. Gerard, his face still red, dropped the empty bottle and smiled uneasily.
"H-hi."
"I got something for ya."
"Yeah?" he spluttered, clearing his throat as Bert lifted his free hand to reveal the marshmallow.
"Thought you might be hungry."
Leaning even closer, Bert put the roasted marshmallow to Gerard's mouth and slowly traced the contours of his lips, leaving a trail of warm, sticky sugar behind. Gerard closed his eyes and the tip of his tongue darted out of his mouth to taste it, catching the side of one of Bert's fingers as he did so. Without opening his eyes, he sucked the finger into his mouth and hummed appreciatively.
Bert couldn't breathe. He was dizzy and horny as hell and -- oh sweet motherfucking god, he thought, mouth hanging open. Such a small thing, but so meaningful, so arousing ... He couldn't tear his gaze away from Gerard's flushed cheeks, Gerard's mouth, the little pink tongue flicking at his skin.
"Why're you always staring at me?" he asked breathlessly as his fingertip slid wetly out of Gerard's mouth. The marshmallow was on the ground somewhere; he'd dropped it a long time ago.
"Dunno," was the equally breathless reply.
"Yeah, you do."
Gerard's mouth stretched into a sloppy smile. "You say it first."
"Say what?" Bert did his best to look wide-eyed and innocent, but he had a feeling he wasn't pulling it off. Not when his face was so close to Gerard's, their noses almost touching, sugary breaths mingling. But it was fun to watch Gerard squirm; he loved knowing he was one of the few people on the planet who could render that motormouth speechless. Well, close to it, anyway.
"Y-you know."
He decided to let him off the hook. "Yeah?" Bert whispered, inching forward and pressing his lips against Gerard's. It was a small kiss at first, parted lips making the gentlest of contact, but gradually grew more intense. Deeper, hotter, wetter, faster. Gerard pulled Bert's body against his own, hands curling into fists around the fabric of his t-shirt, and Bert's hands snaked around Gerard's hips, brushing against the top of his ass.
The kiss ended, but neither of them pulled away. If anything, they held each other more closely as their foreheads touched. Gerard's eyes were dozy and heavy-lidded; Bert's had lost focus from the mixture of darkness and sudden passion, and he blinked a few times before Gerard swam back into focus.
"That what you meant?" he said eventually, lips tingling and breathing heavy.
Gerard nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching, and kissed him again.
Standalone
R (swearing, sex)
written March 2008
For bert_and_gerard Remix Challenge. Inspired by Marshmallow by silhouettes1.
Gerard was looking at him again.
He was always looking at him these days, or so it seemed; those muddy green eyes heavily lidded and nonchalant, then suddenly opening wide, as if he'd found the holy grail. Lips slightly parted, hair a mess, traces of makeup still smeared on his skin, and those fucking eyes daring him to stare back ...
Yeah, it was official: Bert wanted him. Badly. It didn't matter that he was a guy; there was something so fucking attractive about Gerard, damn him to hell. There was a fine vein of steel running through him, keeping him going, even if Bert was the only one who could see it. He was goofy and imaginative and real and he had the most kissable little lopsided mouth Bert had ever seen. But he couldn't have him, and that, quite frankly, sucked. He would have made a move if they hadn't crossed so firmly into friendship territory. A few months earlier, maybe, he might have tried ... but now? No way (Bert cringed at the pun). They'd shared far too many drunken secrets and bad relationship stories. They knew each other's worst habits and insecurities inside out. It would be a fucking disaster.
So Bert, sighing and feeling a little bit sorry for himself, focused on the bonfire roaring in front of him and crossed his arms over his chest. It was getting ridiculous. Because the more he thought about Gerard, the more he wanted him. And the more he wanted him, the more Gerard seemed to watch him. And the more Gerard watched him, the more Bert thought about him.
Fuck this.
He shook his head, feeling the heat of the fire reddening his cheeks, and refused to look at Gerard. Thank God for peripheral vision ...
The show had ended a few hours before, and the guys had decided to crack open a few beers and build up a bonfire. Somehow, Bert and Gerard had ended up on opposite sides of the parking lot -- usually they were side by side, drinking and laughing, generally being idiots. That was one of the best things about Gerard, Bert thought; he accepted idiocy in others and always joined in. But this time Gerard was on his own, leaning against one of the buses, a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, beer in hand. Staring at Bert from the shadows.
They were both silent, and around them there was nothing but noise. The bonfire crackled loudly, hissing when the flames licked around damp wood or shiny tape on cardboard; music blared from one of the buses, occasionally drowned out by loud laughter and the clinking of glass bottles. Quinn stood beside Bert, roasting marshmallows over the fire and talking to anyone who'd listen; Jeph and Frank had stripped off their shirts a few minutes before to compare tattoos but now seemed to be wrestling. Ray, strumming his guitar absent-mindedly, sat cross-legged on the asphalt talking to Branden and Bob, his drum tech. The other techs had gone in pursuit of girls to bring back to the party. Matt was opening another case of beer and passing the bottles to Mikey, who handed them on to anyone who looked thirsty -- and quietly stole marshmallows from the bag at Quinn's feet.
It took Quinn a while to notice there were so many marshmallows missing; when he pulled the roasted ones from the skewer and reached for the bag to add new ones, he found it almost empty. So Mikey ran and hid behind Jeph, laughing as if he'd got away with taking a priceless artwork from the Louvre, and Quinn shouted a few curses, then shrugged and went back to skewering the few that remained. It was hard to annoy someone who smoked so much weed.
Bert smiled absent-mindedly at the chaos around him and shook his head, but his mind was elsewhere. If he didn't do something about this -- this thing with Gerard, he knew he'd regret it. He couldn't stand the thought of lingering in this weird-ass limbo, thinking what if ... ? No, it was far better to make a move even if it came to nothing, he thought as he pushed his hands into his pockets and glanced across at Gerard. Their eyes met and not even the darkening skies could hide the colour that sprang to Gerard's face. He stood there, half-empty beer bottle dangling loosely from his fingers, blinking slowly and biting on his lower lip. Bert's mouth twisted into a broad grin and he nearly laughed out loud. Feebly, Gerard's mouth twitched in reply.
This was good. This was -- hopeful? Bert didn't know what the fuck he was thinking. It's too early to be this delusional, he told himself, trying to calm the surge of excitement in his blood. Or is it the perfect fucking time?
Quinn shoved the plate of roasted marshmallows into Bert's eyeline and he took one, rolling the warm confectionery between thumb and forefinger for a second but never taking his eyes from Gerard's. Slowly -- seductively (he hoped) -- Bert put the roasted marshmallow to his mouth and eased it between his lips, then bit down. Gerard's skin flushed more deeply, if that were possible, as Bert chewed on the candy, lips pursed, eyes fixed on Gerard's face. He swallowed, then desided to suck on his index finger, pushing it in all the way to the knuckle before withdrawing it slowly and turning his attention to his middle finger. Jesus, Bert thought, if this doesn't say I-want-to-suck-your-cock, nothing will.
Gerard shifted uncomfortably but didn't look away. Bert recognised that movement; he'd done it himself, many times, when he'd been trying to hide an ere--
Oh.
It was definitely time to do something. Grabbing another marshmallow from the plate, Bert strolled across to the bus. His stomach churned with nerves and there was a tightness in his chest, but he ignored it all and flashed a grin at Gerard as he leaned against the side of the bus.
"Hey," he said softly. They were a few feet apart and Bert moved closer -- close enough to smell the beer on his breath. Gerard, his face still red, dropped the empty bottle and smiled uneasily.
"H-hi."
"I got something for ya."
"Yeah?" he spluttered, clearing his throat as Bert lifted his free hand to reveal the marshmallow.
"Thought you might be hungry."
Leaning even closer, Bert put the roasted marshmallow to Gerard's mouth and slowly traced the contours of his lips, leaving a trail of warm, sticky sugar behind. Gerard closed his eyes and the tip of his tongue darted out of his mouth to taste it, catching the side of one of Bert's fingers as he did so. Without opening his eyes, he sucked the finger into his mouth and hummed appreciatively.
Bert couldn't breathe. He was dizzy and horny as hell and -- oh sweet motherfucking god, he thought, mouth hanging open. Such a small thing, but so meaningful, so arousing ... He couldn't tear his gaze away from Gerard's flushed cheeks, Gerard's mouth, the little pink tongue flicking at his skin.
"Why're you always staring at me?" he asked breathlessly as his fingertip slid wetly out of Gerard's mouth. The marshmallow was on the ground somewhere; he'd dropped it a long time ago.
"Dunno," was the equally breathless reply.
"Yeah, you do."
Gerard's mouth stretched into a sloppy smile. "You say it first."
"Say what?" Bert did his best to look wide-eyed and innocent, but he had a feeling he wasn't pulling it off. Not when his face was so close to Gerard's, their noses almost touching, sugary breaths mingling. But it was fun to watch Gerard squirm; he loved knowing he was one of the few people on the planet who could render that motormouth speechless. Well, close to it, anyway.
"Y-you know."
He decided to let him off the hook. "Yeah?" Bert whispered, inching forward and pressing his lips against Gerard's. It was a small kiss at first, parted lips making the gentlest of contact, but gradually grew more intense. Deeper, hotter, wetter, faster. Gerard pulled Bert's body against his own, hands curling into fists around the fabric of his t-shirt, and Bert's hands snaked around Gerard's hips, brushing against the top of his ass.
The kiss ended, but neither of them pulled away. If anything, they held each other more closely as their foreheads touched. Gerard's eyes were dozy and heavy-lidded; Bert's had lost focus from the mixture of darkness and sudden passion, and he blinked a few times before Gerard swam back into focus.
"That what you meant?" he said eventually, lips tingling and breathing heavy.
Gerard nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching, and kissed him again.