Wasting Time With You [2]
Title: Wasting Time With You [2]
Author: thekeevster
Pairing: Bert McCracken & Gerard Way
Rating: PG-13, language
POV: Second, you = Bert
Disclaimer: I don't own MCR or The Used, and quite obviously, none of this happened.
Summary: I remembered having a long conversation with you, and something about a bat in a recording studio, and -
Author's Note I appologize for the lateness of this chapter, as while it was being beta'd I was busy becoming a lobster with blonde hair at Warped tour in Buffalo, New York (which was awesome). I will update again soon, though. Again, thanks to my wonderful beta nodense.
Previous Chapters
You looked up at me through those ridiculously cliché blue eyes... [1]
And something about a bat in a recording studio, and -[2]
Two years ago (I'm not even sure I remember the date), I was at a party with Frank and Ray. Frank was sipping on his first beer of the night, and Ray hadn't even opened one yet. I was on my fifth bottle when I saw you and Brock. You'd just come in through the back door, and he was walking stiffly, looking like he couldn't be enjoying himself less. You, on the other hand, looked like you were having the time of your life. You had a cigarette between your fingers and a bottle in your other hand. Swaying on your feet, your shoulder knocked your boyfriend's arm every now and again - at least, I assumed he was your boyfriend. You sucked his face enough over the spanse of five minutes that there was no doubt in my mind that you were together. I was right, too.
You stopped kissing him long enough to drag him by the arm into the crowd of dancing people in the center of the room. You spun and twirled and jumped and thrashed - you were on top of the world.
You leaned against the counter and giggled wildly next to me. I sidled over and rested my back against the counter next to you. You glanced at me and smiled.
"Hey, man. I'm Bert." You were so drunk.
"I'm Gerard," I said, slurring the words between my teeth a bit. "You here with that guy?" I pointed at Brock and turned to face Bert straight in the face.
"Yeah, me'n Brock've been dating for... a while." You smiled and swayed a little bit.
I was fascinated by you. Your hair was lank and unkempt, as was the rest of you, and you smelled like a dirty rock club.
You were wonderful.
After maybe ten minutes of talking (during which we'd moved to sit on an available couch), I looked back out into the sea of people in the room. Brock was standing on the other side, talking to Quinn and some dark-haired girl I was sure I'd seen before, but was too trashed to care about. The one thing I did notice was the expression on Brock's face; he looked almost murderous, and he was watching you. I turned back and listened intently to an anecdote you recounted involving a bat in a recording studio. We both began to laugh and nearly fell out of our seats in hysterics.
By the end of the night, we'd become friends. I gave you my cellphone number written on a napkin as you left with Brock. I waved and you saluted me with two fingers. Brock had what appeared to be a very strong grip on your upper arm and was steering you towards his car before you sped off down the street towards the house you shared.
The next morning, I was awoken by a splitting pain in my head. I looked at the clock next to my bed; it read 9:00. I smacked the top of it to turn off the alarm that I assumed Frank had set for me, as he was usually the one who drove me home when I got smashed. I sat up and put my head in my hands. What the hell happened last night? I struggled to remember everything I could. I remembered having a long conversation with you, and something about a bat in a recording studio, and - Bert. That was your name! I remembered now. I remembered you and how I'd really liked you, how we'd talked for nearly an hour and a half. I remembered giving you my number and telling you to call me sometime. And I remembered your boyfriend. "Shit," I said aloud.
"You're up early," a voice called from the kitchen. I stood up with some difficulty, but managed to walk in to the kitchen to see Bob sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the paper.
"What time did I get in last night, man?" I couldn't seem to remember anything about last night past when you left.
"Frank and Ray brought you home at about three. Told me you met someone."
I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat at the table opposite Bob. "Yeah, someone with a boyfriend. I really can pick 'em, huh?"
Bob just laughed lightly.
I stepped outside into the refreshing autumn air and had a smoke. After throwing my spent cigarette to the ground and stamping it out with my bare foot, I went back inside. I showered, which woke me up significantly. But the whole time I was awake, I thought about you. I got dressed, grabbed my keys, put my hand on the knob of the door and told Bob I'd see him in a few hours. Just as I turned the knob, my phone rang, and I answered it.
"Hello?"
"Is this Gerard?"
"Yeah, who's this?"
"It's Bert, moron." You giggled wildly into the phone, and my heart nearly skipped a beat. "What's up, motherfucker?!"
"Not much. The ceiling and my angry old neighbor." Wit wasn't one of my strong points when I was hung over, but you seemed to enjoy the joke.
You asked if I wanted to go out with you to see some band or another you'd heard about (they were playing at a club you knew at eight). I said yeah, I'd like to, and I'd pick you up around seven. We said goodbye and I hung up the phone.
I looked at the clock - ten thirty. I was already anxious about this meeting, but I decided I had better be on my merry little way to get all the shit I needed to pick up. I took a deep breath, once again saying goodbye to Bob, and headed out.
Author: thekeevster
Pairing: Bert McCracken & Gerard Way
Rating: PG-13, language
POV: Second, you = Bert
Disclaimer: I don't own MCR or The Used, and quite obviously, none of this happened.
Summary: I remembered having a long conversation with you, and something about a bat in a recording studio, and -
Author's Note I appologize for the lateness of this chapter, as while it was being beta'd I was busy becoming a lobster with blonde hair at Warped tour in Buffalo, New York (which was awesome). I will update again soon, though. Again, thanks to my wonderful beta nodense.
Previous Chapters
You looked up at me through those ridiculously cliché blue eyes... [1]
And something about a bat in a recording studio, and -[2]
Two years ago (I'm not even sure I remember the date), I was at a party with Frank and Ray. Frank was sipping on his first beer of the night, and Ray hadn't even opened one yet. I was on my fifth bottle when I saw you and Brock. You'd just come in through the back door, and he was walking stiffly, looking like he couldn't be enjoying himself less. You, on the other hand, looked like you were having the time of your life. You had a cigarette between your fingers and a bottle in your other hand. Swaying on your feet, your shoulder knocked your boyfriend's arm every now and again - at least, I assumed he was your boyfriend. You sucked his face enough over the spanse of five minutes that there was no doubt in my mind that you were together. I was right, too.
You stopped kissing him long enough to drag him by the arm into the crowd of dancing people in the center of the room. You spun and twirled and jumped and thrashed - you were on top of the world.
You leaned against the counter and giggled wildly next to me. I sidled over and rested my back against the counter next to you. You glanced at me and smiled.
"Hey, man. I'm Bert." You were so drunk.
"I'm Gerard," I said, slurring the words between my teeth a bit. "You here with that guy?" I pointed at Brock and turned to face Bert straight in the face.
"Yeah, me'n Brock've been dating for... a while." You smiled and swayed a little bit.
I was fascinated by you. Your hair was lank and unkempt, as was the rest of you, and you smelled like a dirty rock club.
You were wonderful.
After maybe ten minutes of talking (during which we'd moved to sit on an available couch), I looked back out into the sea of people in the room. Brock was standing on the other side, talking to Quinn and some dark-haired girl I was sure I'd seen before, but was too trashed to care about. The one thing I did notice was the expression on Brock's face; he looked almost murderous, and he was watching you. I turned back and listened intently to an anecdote you recounted involving a bat in a recording studio. We both began to laugh and nearly fell out of our seats in hysterics.
By the end of the night, we'd become friends. I gave you my cellphone number written on a napkin as you left with Brock. I waved and you saluted me with two fingers. Brock had what appeared to be a very strong grip on your upper arm and was steering you towards his car before you sped off down the street towards the house you shared.
The next morning, I was awoken by a splitting pain in my head. I looked at the clock next to my bed; it read 9:00. I smacked the top of it to turn off the alarm that I assumed Frank had set for me, as he was usually the one who drove me home when I got smashed. I sat up and put my head in my hands. What the hell happened last night? I struggled to remember everything I could. I remembered having a long conversation with you, and something about a bat in a recording studio, and - Bert. That was your name! I remembered now. I remembered you and how I'd really liked you, how we'd talked for nearly an hour and a half. I remembered giving you my number and telling you to call me sometime. And I remembered your boyfriend. "Shit," I said aloud.
"You're up early," a voice called from the kitchen. I stood up with some difficulty, but managed to walk in to the kitchen to see Bob sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the paper.
"What time did I get in last night, man?" I couldn't seem to remember anything about last night past when you left.
"Frank and Ray brought you home at about three. Told me you met someone."
I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat at the table opposite Bob. "Yeah, someone with a boyfriend. I really can pick 'em, huh?"
Bob just laughed lightly.
I stepped outside into the refreshing autumn air and had a smoke. After throwing my spent cigarette to the ground and stamping it out with my bare foot, I went back inside. I showered, which woke me up significantly. But the whole time I was awake, I thought about you. I got dressed, grabbed my keys, put my hand on the knob of the door and told Bob I'd see him in a few hours. Just as I turned the knob, my phone rang, and I answered it.
"Hello?"
"Is this Gerard?"
"Yeah, who's this?"
"It's Bert, moron." You giggled wildly into the phone, and my heart nearly skipped a beat. "What's up, motherfucker?!"
"Not much. The ceiling and my angry old neighbor." Wit wasn't one of my strong points when I was hung over, but you seemed to enjoy the joke.
You asked if I wanted to go out with you to see some band or another you'd heard about (they were playing at a club you knew at eight). I said yeah, I'd like to, and I'd pick you up around seven. We said goodbye and I hung up the phone.
I looked at the clock - ten thirty. I was already anxious about this meeting, but I decided I had better be on my merry little way to get all the shit I needed to pick up. I took a deep breath, once again saying goodbye to Bob, and headed out.