slashfic25 prompt #19: Rough
Bert/Gerard
Standalone
R (swearing and sex)
written June 2006
notes: Inspired by the line "If love be rough with you/Be rough with love" from Romeo and Juliet.
"You know," Bert says, staring up at the ceiling and taking a long drag on his cigarette, "all that Romeo and Juliet stuff is shit."
They're lying in the king-sized bed in their hotel room. Bert is blowing smoke rings high into the air, part of him hoping he'll manage to set off the smoke alarms or sprinklers. He likes the thought of the whole hotel being evacuated at 4am -- old ladies and starched-suit businessmen being woken up and herded outside into the cold -- just because some young mouthy punk wants to smoke in bed after sex.
Gerard, still lying between Bert's spread legs, has rolled onto his back and idly runs a hand along the younger man's thigh. It's sticky with sweat; they haven't seen each other in a while. This is one of their rare, precious times together, one of the few moments when lives and careers and schedules don't get in the way.
"Why d'you think it's shit?" Gerard replies lazily, eyes fluttering closed. The sweat on his skin has started to cool and he reaches blindly for the sheet and blanket, tangled beneath their feet.
Bert chuckles softly as he watches Gerard sit up to straighten the covers, draping them over their lower halves before lying down again. He leans forward to kiss Gerard's bare shoulder, then reaches for the ashtray on the nightstand and stubs out his cigarette.
"It's shit because it doesn't mean anything."
There's a pause, followed by a drowsy "Huh?"
"You're awake, right?"
"Yes, I'm awake," he says, sighing. "I can't fucking sleep lying like this -- not when you won't shut the hell up."
Bert grins. "I thought all that sex'd put you in a good mood."
"I would -- I mean, I am. I really am. I'm just ... you know." Gerard pushes his fingers through his sweaty hair. "It's like, we've only just met up again, and I have to go tomorrow, and I'm fucking tired but I don't wanna go to sleep, because it's a waste of time. D'you get me?"
"Mmm." Bert presses his hands into the mattress and manoeuvres himself into a sitting position, back flush against the headboard, then places his hands on Gerard's shoulders -- a cue for the older man to wriggle up to meet him. After he does, Bert wraps his arms around Gerard's waist and smirks, pressing his lips into the fine, tumbled dark hair.
"No time with you is wasted," he whispers. "And the rest of the time ... well, that's just counting down until I get to see you again."
Gerard snorts with laughter and turns, so he can see Bert's eyes. "What a cheesy load of bullshit," he says, mouth still twitching as he leans in for a kiss.
"Mmm, yeah. So what? You got a problem with it?"
"Did I say I had a problem with it?"
"I don't know -- I thought maybe it was implied," Bert says with a smirk.
"Implied? Since when do you notice things that aren't spelled out in big capital letters?"
"Oh, I notice 'em. Just don't pay attention, that's all."
"Same thing."
"No it's not."
He laughs, shaking his head. "Yeah, it totally is."
"You don't know shit."
Gerard pulls a face. "Agree to disagree?"
"Huh. Maybe. Now move over."
He gives Gerard a shove. The older man rolls onto his side, allowing Bert to slide down the mattress and pull the covers over his shoulders. He grabs a pillow and punches it a few times before resting his head on it ... then pulls a face and moves across to Gerard's side of the bed anyway.
"What are you doing?"
"You're warm," Bert says, slipping an arm around Gerard's waist and closing his eyes. They lie there for a few minutes, their breathing returning to normal.
"Hey -- what was all that Romeo and Juliet stuff about before?"
Bert opens his eyes. "Oh. That. You really wanna know?"
"Sure. I like your random ideas."
"Random? Ha -- more like deep and meaningful philosophy." Bert's voice takes on a mock-pretentious tone, and Gerard laughs softly.
"Bert, honey, you know I love you, but you're no philosopher."
"Fuck you," he replies, grinning. "And don't call me honey."
"Okay. Sorry, honey."
Bert pokes him in the side and Gerard squirms, before they both burst into laughter.
"Just shut up and talk."
"How can I shut up and talk? Either I shut up, or I talk. I can't do both."
"Bert!"
A giggle. "Okay, okay. Just fuckin' with ya."
"You've done that already tonight," is Gerard's dry response.
"Twice."
"Yes."
"Three times for you, if you wanna get technical -- "
Gerard rolls onto his back and throws his hands in the air. "And you think you're a philosopher?"
"Dude, a lot of philosophy is about sex."
"No -- it's about the meaning of life."
"It's the same thing. Think about it. Sex is the reason people are alive, right? It's the reason people exist. So once you know how you exist, you start looking for a reason why. And sex is a big part of that."
"So what you're saying is, my reason for living is to have sex with you?"
Bert grins and runs his tongue across his bottom lip. "Gotta be worse ways to live, right?"
"You think?"
He laughs and snuggles closer. "Anyway. What I was thinking about Romeo and Juliet kinda fits in with that."
"Does it?"
"Mmm. I reckon it's a crock of crap, that fucking play -- all that falling in love and killing yourself shit."
Gerard shakes his head. "Don't you think it's romantic?"
"Well, maybe it is, but that doesn't mean it's not bullshit, Gee. All it does is show that you're fucking scared, and you've got no choices, no options. No fucking balls."
The older man frowns. "Okay ... "
"People die all the time. It doesn't matter how, or why ... what matters is how you live," Bert says, propping himself up on one elbow. "I'd rather live for someone I loved, than die for them. Why die? If I were dead, I couldn't be with that person, I couldn't fight for that person, I couldn't prove anything to them ... I mean, fuck. How do we know we can even feel after we're dead? Love is the best thing about being alive, so I figure, if you kill yourself for love, you're killing that love too."
Gerard is silent for a long time. "What if you can never be with that person in life -- only when you're dead?"
"Bullshit. There's always a way. See, Romeo and Juliet, their families were fighting, right? Why didn't they give their parents a big 'fuck you'? Why didn't they get their families together and tell them to sort their shit out? If their parents cared enough, they would have."
"Bert -- they were teenagers. Kids."
"Exactly. That's the thing. How many teenagers know about love? I mean, don't get me wrong, teenagers fall in love -- I know I fucking did -- but when you're that young, you don't know how to deal. You don't know what to do. You want things to be perfect and easy and fairytales and fucking happily ever after. You don't realise that fighting for love makes it better. You don't know that an easy love never lasts. It can't."
He sighs and rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling again.
"Think about it. Facing bad shit together and beating it together makes you closer, it means you know each other better. I mean, fuck ... look at us. We'd both be dead by now if we'd done the Romeo and Juliet thing! Maybe we would've killed each other, I don't know."
"Murder-suicide," Gerard says flatly. "I would've killed you, then myself. Stab wounds, I think ... to the heart."
Bert raises an eyebrow and grins. "Whatever. But love's such a weird thing, Gee. Either you control it, or it controls you -- and then everything's out of control. And fuck that shit. Being in love is supposed to make your life better, not throw everything out of whack. Nothing comes easy ... love least of all. So there's no point in letting it beat ya."
If love be rough with you, be rough with love.
"So that's why the play's a crock of shit?"
"Yup," Bert says firmly.
Gerard sits up slightly and presses his lips to Bert's cheek. "I take it back."
"Take what back?"
"You are a philosopher."
Standalone
R (swearing and sex)
written June 2006
notes: Inspired by the line "If love be rough with you/Be rough with love" from Romeo and Juliet.
"You know," Bert says, staring up at the ceiling and taking a long drag on his cigarette, "all that Romeo and Juliet stuff is shit."
They're lying in the king-sized bed in their hotel room. Bert is blowing smoke rings high into the air, part of him hoping he'll manage to set off the smoke alarms or sprinklers. He likes the thought of the whole hotel being evacuated at 4am -- old ladies and starched-suit businessmen being woken up and herded outside into the cold -- just because some young mouthy punk wants to smoke in bed after sex.
Gerard, still lying between Bert's spread legs, has rolled onto his back and idly runs a hand along the younger man's thigh. It's sticky with sweat; they haven't seen each other in a while. This is one of their rare, precious times together, one of the few moments when lives and careers and schedules don't get in the way.
"Why d'you think it's shit?" Gerard replies lazily, eyes fluttering closed. The sweat on his skin has started to cool and he reaches blindly for the sheet and blanket, tangled beneath their feet.
Bert chuckles softly as he watches Gerard sit up to straighten the covers, draping them over their lower halves before lying down again. He leans forward to kiss Gerard's bare shoulder, then reaches for the ashtray on the nightstand and stubs out his cigarette.
"It's shit because it doesn't mean anything."
There's a pause, followed by a drowsy "Huh?"
"You're awake, right?"
"Yes, I'm awake," he says, sighing. "I can't fucking sleep lying like this -- not when you won't shut the hell up."
Bert grins. "I thought all that sex'd put you in a good mood."
"I would -- I mean, I am. I really am. I'm just ... you know." Gerard pushes his fingers through his sweaty hair. "It's like, we've only just met up again, and I have to go tomorrow, and I'm fucking tired but I don't wanna go to sleep, because it's a waste of time. D'you get me?"
"Mmm." Bert presses his hands into the mattress and manoeuvres himself into a sitting position, back flush against the headboard, then places his hands on Gerard's shoulders -- a cue for the older man to wriggle up to meet him. After he does, Bert wraps his arms around Gerard's waist and smirks, pressing his lips into the fine, tumbled dark hair.
"No time with you is wasted," he whispers. "And the rest of the time ... well, that's just counting down until I get to see you again."
Gerard snorts with laughter and turns, so he can see Bert's eyes. "What a cheesy load of bullshit," he says, mouth still twitching as he leans in for a kiss.
"Mmm, yeah. So what? You got a problem with it?"
"Did I say I had a problem with it?"
"I don't know -- I thought maybe it was implied," Bert says with a smirk.
"Implied? Since when do you notice things that aren't spelled out in big capital letters?"
"Oh, I notice 'em. Just don't pay attention, that's all."
"Same thing."
"No it's not."
He laughs, shaking his head. "Yeah, it totally is."
"You don't know shit."
Gerard pulls a face. "Agree to disagree?"
"Huh. Maybe. Now move over."
He gives Gerard a shove. The older man rolls onto his side, allowing Bert to slide down the mattress and pull the covers over his shoulders. He grabs a pillow and punches it a few times before resting his head on it ... then pulls a face and moves across to Gerard's side of the bed anyway.
"What are you doing?"
"You're warm," Bert says, slipping an arm around Gerard's waist and closing his eyes. They lie there for a few minutes, their breathing returning to normal.
"Hey -- what was all that Romeo and Juliet stuff about before?"
Bert opens his eyes. "Oh. That. You really wanna know?"
"Sure. I like your random ideas."
"Random? Ha -- more like deep and meaningful philosophy." Bert's voice takes on a mock-pretentious tone, and Gerard laughs softly.
"Bert, honey, you know I love you, but you're no philosopher."
"Fuck you," he replies, grinning. "And don't call me honey."
"Okay. Sorry, honey."
Bert pokes him in the side and Gerard squirms, before they both burst into laughter.
"Just shut up and talk."
"How can I shut up and talk? Either I shut up, or I talk. I can't do both."
"Bert!"
A giggle. "Okay, okay. Just fuckin' with ya."
"You've done that already tonight," is Gerard's dry response.
"Twice."
"Yes."
"Three times for you, if you wanna get technical -- "
Gerard rolls onto his back and throws his hands in the air. "And you think you're a philosopher?"
"Dude, a lot of philosophy is about sex."
"No -- it's about the meaning of life."
"It's the same thing. Think about it. Sex is the reason people are alive, right? It's the reason people exist. So once you know how you exist, you start looking for a reason why. And sex is a big part of that."
"So what you're saying is, my reason for living is to have sex with you?"
Bert grins and runs his tongue across his bottom lip. "Gotta be worse ways to live, right?"
"You think?"
He laughs and snuggles closer. "Anyway. What I was thinking about Romeo and Juliet kinda fits in with that."
"Does it?"
"Mmm. I reckon it's a crock of crap, that fucking play -- all that falling in love and killing yourself shit."
Gerard shakes his head. "Don't you think it's romantic?"
"Well, maybe it is, but that doesn't mean it's not bullshit, Gee. All it does is show that you're fucking scared, and you've got no choices, no options. No fucking balls."
The older man frowns. "Okay ... "
"People die all the time. It doesn't matter how, or why ... what matters is how you live," Bert says, propping himself up on one elbow. "I'd rather live for someone I loved, than die for them. Why die? If I were dead, I couldn't be with that person, I couldn't fight for that person, I couldn't prove anything to them ... I mean, fuck. How do we know we can even feel after we're dead? Love is the best thing about being alive, so I figure, if you kill yourself for love, you're killing that love too."
Gerard is silent for a long time. "What if you can never be with that person in life -- only when you're dead?"
"Bullshit. There's always a way. See, Romeo and Juliet, their families were fighting, right? Why didn't they give their parents a big 'fuck you'? Why didn't they get their families together and tell them to sort their shit out? If their parents cared enough, they would have."
"Bert -- they were teenagers. Kids."
"Exactly. That's the thing. How many teenagers know about love? I mean, don't get me wrong, teenagers fall in love -- I know I fucking did -- but when you're that young, you don't know how to deal. You don't know what to do. You want things to be perfect and easy and fairytales and fucking happily ever after. You don't realise that fighting for love makes it better. You don't know that an easy love never lasts. It can't."
He sighs and rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling again.
"Think about it. Facing bad shit together and beating it together makes you closer, it means you know each other better. I mean, fuck ... look at us. We'd both be dead by now if we'd done the Romeo and Juliet thing! Maybe we would've killed each other, I don't know."
"Murder-suicide," Gerard says flatly. "I would've killed you, then myself. Stab wounds, I think ... to the heart."
Bert raises an eyebrow and grins. "Whatever. But love's such a weird thing, Gee. Either you control it, or it controls you -- and then everything's out of control. And fuck that shit. Being in love is supposed to make your life better, not throw everything out of whack. Nothing comes easy ... love least of all. So there's no point in letting it beat ya."
If love be rough with you, be rough with love.
"So that's why the play's a crock of shit?"
"Yup," Bert says firmly.
Gerard sits up slightly and presses his lips to Bert's cheek. "I take it back."
"Take what back?"
"You are a philosopher."