[The Used]
[Bert/Quinn, rated r, bert never writes, and quinn has a bit of a thing for blood... for poisonedromance/brokensorrows as I<3her I've been spamming her friends only entry (with this fic too! :D)]
Bert doesn't write very often, so it's a bit of an event when he does. People peer round at him to watch, but his eyes are fixed on his smudged paper, and his tongue is sticking out between his lips, so he doesn't notice all the attention he's getting.
He always manages to come across a pen that's blotchy and the ink goes all over his fingers, and there are stains on the page. He can't write smoothly with it, and it makes his cramped, careful handwriting come out even more slowly.
You always manage to find yourself a discreet place to watch, after everyone else has gotten over the initial shock and gotten back to whatever they were doing before Bert's strange antics caught their eyes. You continue to watch as he deliberates over his words, plays with his pen, flicking it back and forth, twisting it around in his fingers. He chews on the end until it splits, and more often than not he cuts his lip on the broken edges. If he doesn't he simply chews nervously at his lip until it bleeds anyway.
It's the moment you see a drop of blood squeezed from his lips to land on his page that you look around to check everyone else has truly gone, and swallow, hard. You rub your forehead with the back of your hand and get rid of the non-existent sweat, because it just got hotter in the room for you. Making to walk past Bert, you pull off your top and keep hold of it, turning as if to notice him for the first time.
"What ya up to there?" You ask, resting a hand on his shoulder and peering over. Unlike most people he doesn't shy away or try to hide his writing from you. But he doesn't cringe or display it proudly either, just ponders over it. And even though you use the same line every time he sits down to write, he never seems to notice.
"Writing." He replies shortly to your words, sucking the pen back into his mouth before remembering it's broken, and almost digesting the ink left in the pen. Pulling it out of his mouth instantly, he pulls a face and drops the pen onto the table, the tip leaving a mark on the paper as it falls.
He looks round at you with wide eyes, silently asking what to do next. You smile at him slightly.
"You've got a bit, right... There." You tell him, running your thumb over his bottom lip to indicate the splotch of ink. You let you finger wander to his chin, and tilt it up so that you can press your lips against his and steal the kiss you've been desperate for ever since he sat down with the scrap of paper at the table.
The door makes a sound, betraying the fact that someone is about to walk in, and you immediately pull away, walking off to the bathroom with your shirt in hand, like you had been planning it all along.
"What ya doing Bert?" Branden asks cheerily as he strolls into the room as you leave it.
"Writing." He says happily, and you smirk, knowing he's replaying the feeling of your lips on his in his mind.
Bert doesn't write very often, so it's a bit of an event when he does. People peer round at him to watch, but his eyes are fixed on his smudged paper, and his tongue is sticking out between his lips, so he doesn't notice all the attention he's getting.
He always manages to come across a pen that's blotchy and the ink goes all over his fingers, and there are stains on the page. He can't write smoothly with it, and it makes his cramped, careful handwriting come out even more slowly.
You always manage to find yourself a discreet place to watch, after everyone else has gotten over the initial shock and gotten back to whatever they were doing before Bert's strange antics caught their eyes. You continue to watch as he deliberates over his words, plays with his pen, flicking it back and forth, twisting it around in his fingers. He chews on the end until it splits, and more often than not he cuts his lip on the broken edges. If he doesn't he simply chews nervously at his lip until it bleeds anyway.
It's the moment you see a drop of blood squeezed from his lips to land on his page that you look around to check everyone else has truly gone, and swallow, hard. You rub your forehead with the back of your hand and get rid of the non-existent sweat, because it just got hotter in the room for you. Making to walk past Bert, you pull off your top and keep hold of it, turning as if to notice him for the first time.
"What ya up to there?" You ask, resting a hand on his shoulder and peering over. Unlike most people he doesn't shy away or try to hide his writing from you. But he doesn't cringe or display it proudly either, just ponders over it. And even though you use the same line every time he sits down to write, he never seems to notice.
"Writing." He replies shortly to your words, sucking the pen back into his mouth before remembering it's broken, and almost digesting the ink left in the pen. Pulling it out of his mouth instantly, he pulls a face and drops the pen onto the table, the tip leaving a mark on the paper as it falls.
He looks round at you with wide eyes, silently asking what to do next. You smile at him slightly.
"You've got a bit, right... There." You tell him, running your thumb over his bottom lip to indicate the splotch of ink. You let you finger wander to his chin, and tilt it up so that you can press your lips against his and steal the kiss you've been desperate for ever since he sat down with the scrap of paper at the table.
The door makes a sound, betraying the fact that someone is about to walk in, and you immediately pull away, walking off to the bathroom with your shirt in hand, like you had been planning it all along.
"What ya doing Bert?" Branden asks cheerily as he strolls into the room as you leave it.
"Writing." He says happily, and you smirk, knowing he's replaying the feeling of your lips on his in his mind.