bxrlioz :
“Is it fucked that I’m this happy today?” Bertie asked, inspecting his reflection in the mirror and running his tongue over his teeth just to make sure they were smooth and shiny. He’d brushed them twice, gargled mouth wash and furiously chewed six sticks of Wrigley’s before Marie had wrestled the pack away from him, telling him he didn’t need to knock Gerard out cold with his minty, fresh breath.
He glanced over his shoulder at Taylor who was hunched over the piano, absentmindedly playing a tune with no real enthusiasm. Bertie’s heart dropped a little in his chest, that same guilt playing with his heart strings.
“Because like, I could totally stay at home…” he offered. He knew that Gerard would understand, but when his options for the night were kissing the boy he’d been crushing on for months and moping around the house, it wasn’t a hard decision to make. Yet the day’s significance still had a firm hold on him and his eyes traveled over to the fireplace where a framed picture of the whole Chambert clan resided. His parents smiled back at him with grins he hadn’t seen since he was a kid, and he knew that if Taylor even hinted towards Bertie staying home being the better choice, he’d bow out of the party without question. But his brother turned around and offered him a smile and told him to get his butt over to Peter Eagleton’s house.
With a laugh, Bertie reached out and ruffled Taylor’s bright red hair and shoved his arms into his hoodie - the one that hadn’t seen the inside of a dorm room choked with marijuana fumes. On his way out, he halted by that same picture and bit his lip to fight the growing smile.
“I promise you’d totally understand if you met Ger, guys,” he told the photographed version of his parents. “He’s so great, you’d love him.”
Melancholy threatened to overwhelm him right there, so he hurriedly moved away and thundered downstairs and out the door, brushing past Marie and a ridiculous amount of shopping bags. It didn’t take long for him to reach Peter’s apartment, even if it was in a sketchier part of the Cherry Grove than Bertie’s neighbourhood. As expected, half the football team were sprawled on the lawn grass surrounded by red solo cups and the other half were probably inside screwing rally girls. Bertie didn’t know how long it would take him to find Gerard, but then he spotted the boy lingering at the edge of the driveway talking to someone and his heart gave a giddy leap in his chest. Had he been waiting outside for him?
He hesitated a little, suddenly feeling shy. This would be the first time seeing Gerard face to face with the knowledge that the other boy actually liked him back. Normally, Bertie cruised by on a juvenile sense of hope that Ger reciprocated his crush. Now, he was fully aware that Gerard liked him back and Bertie didn’t know why he was standing around fretting about what to do when he could be over there kissing the guy’s cute face off.
Bertie broke out into a light jog as he crossed the street. Nearing Gerard, the other guy he was talking to became nothing more than a blur as Bertie clapped his hands on Gerard’s shoulders and sprang up onto his back. Given Gerard’s extensive ballet training and how light and scrawny Bertie was, he was more than confident that Ger could hold him, but he’d never have dared to do something like that any other time out of fear of Gerard grumpily dropping him on his ass. He was feeling pretty sure of himself at that moment though because Gerard Cole had a big, fat crush on Bertie Chambert and if he wanted this thing between them to go further then he’d have to accept that spontaneous piggybacks were a thing now.
“Oh my gosh, are you the real Gerard Cole?” he teased, wrapping his legs around the other boy’s torso. His fingers playfully chucked Gerard’s chin.
Well aware he had just interrupted a conversation, Bertie turned to the other guy with an easy smile. He was… pretty good looking. And he knew it if the tightness of his t-shirt was anything to go by. But Bertie didn’t like to think he was a stand-offish person so he remembered his manners and held out his hand.
“Hi. Sorry,” he giggled. “I’m Bertie.”
He tried not to flinch when the other guy, disgruntled at the interruption, grabbed onto him in a handshake that was more harsh than firm. Jesus, was he trying to break his fingers? Letting go roughly, the other guy gave him a s’up nod. The true mark of a douchebag.
“Wassup? I’m Zaylor.”
Oh.
Feeling his blood run cold, the smile on Bertie’s face froze. Sliding pathetically down Gerard’s back, Bertie waited until his sneakers had landed clumsily back on the ground before he awkwardly cleared his throat, eyes darting between Gerard and Zaylor (who was even hotter than Bertie feared), and he reached up to scratch the back of his neck.
“Oops, sorry, I guess I was… interrupting something here,” he said, forcing out a laugh and struggling to make his tone light and carefree.
Gerard was growing increasingly uncomfortable, his eyes aimed at the ground as he willed himself not to meet Zaylor’s gaze. He felt uneasy standing next to the boy, despite Zaylor never having actually wronged him. After all, this had been the same boy who’d flirted with Gerard, boosting his ego and encouraging him in the most minor ways. In the strangest sense, he’d certainly helped Gerard feel good – it wasn’t often that anybody would so unabashedly flirt with Gerard Cole, he wasn’t accustomed to being the subject of somebody else’s crush. Not until Bertie, of course, and even then it had taken Gerard far too long to catch up.
The problem with Zaylor, however – aside from his ridiculous name and ever so slightly exhausting personality – was that he’d been nothing but a blip on the radar. Gerard hadn’t ever actuallyed wanted anything to unfold between them. He’d liked the thrill of being able to harmlessly flirt with a boy without the additional baggage of feelings, and without having to face his father’s wrath on top of that. His growing feelings for Bertie had gotten so out of control and, as always, he’d been so scared he’d thrown up a wall and shut himself off to the only good thing that had ever happened to him. Now, he was trying to make up for that. He and Bertie had finally opened up with one another; he’d thrown caution to the wind and decided that it was time that he allowed himself to be honest, to be happy. Admittedly, his timing had maybe been off, and he felt a little… weird about having taken such an important day in Bertie’s life and turned it around on his head, making the world revolve around him, but maybe that’s exactly what Bertie needed? He just wanted to provide some semblance of a distraction, maybe even make him smile during an otherwise difficult time, and he couldn’t do that with Zaylor standing right there.
“So, cutie. It’s been a while since I heard from you,” Zaylor stared, edging closer to Gerard, hooking his pinky finger against the waistband of his jeans.
Wide-eyed, Gerard hopped backwards in surprise, momentarily losing balance as he stumbled through the grass, cringing at the intimate gesture. It was one thing for Zaylor to have flirted, but the way he seemed to think it acceptable for his hands to just roam all over Gerard’s body – first gripping his waist, tugging on his jeans, and now his hands spanning the width of his chest, almost as though steadying him and holding him in place – it became all too aware that he’d gotten entirely the wrong impression. Hunching his shoulders and melting away from him, Gerard threw up his palms up, the universal gesture for back off as he retreated.
Zaylor didn’t take the hint, however, and Gerard winced as the boy lingered, staring back at him through long lashes, a sultry smile on his lips that only made Gerard’s stomach churn. Taking a deep breath, he tried again, hoping this time to work up the courage to tell Zaylor to leave, when he felt a sudden weight against him as two hands clamped down against his shoulders. Given his sudden state of unrest, it took him a little longer to recover than usual, but he had quick reflexes, and he remained rooted to the spot as someone vaulted onto his back.
And that someone was, of course, Bertie.
The second he felt Bertie’s hands against his back, his body tangled with his own, Gerard wondered how he could have ever mistaken Zaylor’s hands against his waist as the other boy’s. There was no familiarity in Zaylor’s touch, and yet Bertie’s hands against him, his body pressed against his own, it felt so natural. His heart fluttered in his chest at the sound of his voice, feeling his fingers graaze his chin, his cheeks burning all the while. Choking out a laugh, he steadied a hand against Bertie’s thigh – his blush grew ever deeper, then – so as to brace the boy against his back, and he shot Zaylor an uneasy glance. He looked pissed, and Gerard found himself half-tempted to spin around on the spot, and to run like his life depended on it, even with Bertie perched on his back.
“Oh, Bertie, actually, this is–” he started, immediately flustering as the two sought to introduce themselves. He didn’t want Zaylor to be the first one to get a word in, and his heart clenched in his chest as he thought of the conclusions that Bertie might draw.
It was too late, however, as the two got in their introductions, and Bertie slid ambly down from his back, the tension in his stature evident. Gerard immediately turned his gaze towards Bertie, his mouth opening and shutting repeatedly as he tried to gather the right words. Instead, here merely stared gormlessly between the two boys, who were throwing daggers in one another’s direction.
Zaylor was the first to speak after Bertie’s apology, and he seemed all too keen to mark his territory. “Yeah, man, you kinda are. Nice meeting you, but if you could just…” he trailed off, flourishing his hands in a shooing motion. He wore a condescending smirk, looking all too pleased with himself, and that was the final straw for Gerard.
His neck wound back in disbelief, his head snapping back and forth between the two before it finally landed on the pretentious douche that stood in front of them. Rising to his full height, Gerard glared at Zaylor, his breathing hitching as he closed the tiny gap between the two of them. At six foot, he towered over Zaylor slightly, and he found himself hoping that he at least presented himself as vaguely intimidating in that moment.
“Actually Zaylor,” he started, his name dripping with venom as the boy’s name spilled from his lips. He hoped, against all hope, that he could at least exhibit a little bit of the utter perplexity he felt upon being forced to utter such an unimaginably stupid name before continuing. “I think you need to learn to take a hint and leave. You don’t get to talk to Bertie like that, and you definitely don’t get to put your hands on me.”
At that, he whirled on the spot, turning his back to Zaylor, never bothering to await his response. His heart pounded in his chest, and it occurred to him that despite his own glum exterior, he very rarely found himself in the centre of a conflict – well, excluding his and Bertie’s regular spats.
“C'mon, Bertie. I’ve been waiting for you, and I think we had a little catching up to do?” he posed, the corners of his lips quirking upwards into a shy smile. He tried feigning confidence, though his stomach was filled with butterflies, and looped his arm around the other boy’s waist, pulling him into his side as his fingers grazed his hips.
Given what he would call his outgoing personality and what others would call his tendency to be obnoxious and annoying and totally obtuse sometimes, Bertie rarely felt awkward. Sure, he could land himself in sticky situations but they were never anything he couldn’t escape from, unscathed and with a cheery smile. But right now he felt downright awkward, staring at Zaylor with the other guy throwing him one hell of a stink eye. Bertie’s eyes darted back and forth between Gerard and Channing Tatum’s douchebag brother and noted that Gerard was doing something similar, eyes flickering between Bertie and his... God, what even was Zaylor to him?
A part of Bertie wondered if he was about to be the butt of some really shitty joke. Had Zaylor and Gerard orchestrated this so Bertie would wind up humiliated and show a bit of remorse for once? As soon as the thought entered his mind, he felt guilty. Gerard was a good actor, sure, but he also wasn’t cruel. He was grumpy at times, maybe a bit short-tempered, but he’d never treated Bertie badly. Even during the accidental mishap regarding his comment towards Bertie’s parents had wound up with Gerard apologising with zero hint of showmanship. It had been genuine and sincere and Bertie realised that was around the time he’d properly started falling for the super cute, dimpled-smiled, future Tony winner in front of him.
So clearly this was just some misunderstanding, right? Zaylor had showed up at the same time, started talking to Gerard because it was well within his rights for him to do so, and now he’d leave Bertie and Gerard be for the rest of the night. Man, Bertie was impressed that he was handling this maturely instead of throwing a strop like he kind of wanted to.
Until Zaylor piped up again.
“Uh, excuse me?” Bertie gaped when Zaylor made a shooing motion with his hands. Was this guy actually for real?
A scoffing, disbelieving laugh tore from Bertie’s throat and he gave Zaylor an ‘are you kidding me?’ look. “Dude, seriously? That’s—“ But whatever he was going to say was cut off by Gerard walking forward and Bertie took a moment to feel worried that Gerard actually was going to leave with Zaylor. Despite the lack of, you know, a compelling case. Bar the abs in that practically see-through shirt. Oh God, Bertie knew he should have gone to the gym before this.
Tugging self-consciously at his hoody, Bertie nearly missed Gerard’s words. But then he caught them. Loud and clear. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips that he was struggling to not let turn into a full blown grin. But it was hard to show that sort of humility when the boy he had a crush on was defending them both so vehemently. Had Bertie literally ever been hotter for him?
As Gerard turned back towards him, a dopey smile lingered on Bertie’s face and oh my God, was he blushing when Gerard wrapped an arm around his waist? He totally was, and the feeling of being pressed up comfortably against Gerard when it wasn’t for a scene or because Bertie was drunk and in need of some support, was something Bertie just wanted to melt into. And holy shit, the look on Ger’s face. He’s so freaking adorable, Bertie thought.
It was probably a stupid move, but Bertie had already warned Gerard that he was going to kiss him and he hadn’t heard any arguments. Zaylor had never been part of the plan but if he wasn’t getting the message that he wasn’t wanted right now, he was about to. Bertie twisted around in Gerard’s arms, his chest brushing against the other boy’s as he fisted his hands in Gerard’s jacket. His eyes flicked up to meet Gerard’s for a split second before he was leaning in and kissing him. Fiercely, at that.
He wasn’t acting and he wasn’t drunk. For once, he was kissing Gerard just because he could. Because he liked him more than he’d ever liked anyone and this kiss, pressing and lingering, was better than any other kiss he’d shared with anyone else in his life. And there had been a lot of them. But they’d been meaningless and dirty and quick, not fiery enough to heat up Bertie’s blood and make his heart race as he cupped the nape of Gerard’s neck, breaking away slightly to catch the other boy’s eye and smile shyly at him.
He pressed another quick, fleeting kiss to Gerard’s lips then pointed to Zaylor, still looking at the boy in front of him. “You can go now, Zelena,” he told him.
