slashfic25 prompt #24: Kitchen
Gerard/Bert
Standalone
PG (swearing)
written May 2006
He sighs, looking up from the table to see his mother brushing the crumbs from the countertop into the palm of her hand. Briskly, she walks to the trash can and disposes of the crumbs, then moves to the sink to rinse her hands. Now and then, as she bustles around the kitchen, she looks up at him and smiles.
"You okay, honey?"
"Mmm."
His mother Donna is never still, not when there are things to be done. And there's always something for her to do; there always has been. From taking care of her two sons -- now fully grown physically, but still reliant on her emotionally -- to the husband and the house. Even now, when the boys have moved to New York and the husband has become an ex, Donna has her job, her friends, her nieces and nephews and cousins, her hobbies ...
"You need to relax," he always tells her. "I hate to see you looking so tired, Mom. Take a break. I'll help you with that."
"Don't be silly," she replies without fail. "Maybe one day, when there's nothing left to do, I'll put my feet up."
Then he'll open his mouth to contradict her, because there's always something else to do, and he doesn't want her to run herself ragged, and she'll silence him with the look: the right side of her mouth turning downwards, grey-green eyes steely, jawline firm, and say, in her don't-fuck-with-me tone of voice, "Would you stop worrying, Gerard? I'm fine."
So that's where Mikey gets it from, he thinks ruefully, the coffee cup warm against his palms as he drinks from it.
Once the cup is empty and his caffeine addiction sated for the moment, Gerard clears his throat. "Uh, Mom?"
"Yes?"
"I ... um -- I kinda wanna tell you something."
God, this is going to be harder than I thought, he says to himself. He takes a few deep breaths, running his fingers through the hair tickling the nape of his neck. What am I supposed to say? Hey, Mom, remember that time when I was nineteen and you asked me if I was gay, and I said no until I was blue in the face, even though you said it wouldn't be a big deal, and then I found a girlfriend as soon as I could to prove I wasn't lying? Well, kinda turns out that I was wrong ...
"Go on," Donna says, walking over to the kitchen table and placing a hand on his shoulder. "What is it?"
And you know my friend Bert -- the one you think is "such a nice boy, even if he is a little bit crazy", the one you wish you could see more often? Guess what? I see a lot of him. Pretty much all of him, actually ...
He sighs again. "I don't really know where to start," he says, staring into the empty coffee cup.
You might have to rely on Mikey if you wanna be a grandma ...
"Have you met someone?" she asks, sliding into the chair beside him. Gerard's cheeks begin to turn an interesting shade of pink and she grins. "I knew it! Well, tell me -- what's she like?"
She has a dick, for starters ...
"Oh, it's not like that -- "
"Yes it is! Come on, Gerard, you can tell me anything. I'm your mom. Whatever it is, it can't be as bad as your shitty diapers were," she says, laughing softly.
He takes a deep breath and rubs his eye wearily for a second. Get it over with, he thinks. "It's kind of a long story -- "
Mercifully, he's interrupted by the Star Wars theme tune. His cellphone is ringing, and he rolls his eyes, giving his mother a small apologetic shrug before pulling the device out of his pocket to answer it.
"Hello?"
"Hey. You told her yet?"
"I was just about to tell her when you called," Gerard replies through gritted teeth, somehow both relieved and frustrated.
A pause. "Oh, shit dude. You want me to go?"
"Nah, it's cool."
"Sure?"
"Yeah." He stands up and heads for the living room, letting his knees buckle as he drops onto the couch. A small sigh escapes him.
"This is really freaking you out, huh?"
Gerard pulls a face, although the person he's speaking to can't see it. "What the fuck do you think?"
"You don't know how lucky you are, Gee. How 'bout going to Happy fucking Valley and telling my parents?" This comment is followed by an insane giggle. "We'd be chased outta town by a mob with pitchforks, chanting 'Kill the Queers'."
"That's -- " He wants to say, that's not true, but he knows it probably is, so he lets the word trail off. Empty air fills the silence and he sighs again, trying to think of something to say. "It's good to hear from you," he finishes lamely.
Another giggle. "Aww ... does my Gee-Gee miss me?"
"Shut up!"
"Haha, that rhymed. I'm a poet and I didn't know it."
"Bert, you write songs for a living! You know how to make things rhyme, idiot."
Donna pokes her head through the open doorway. "Is that Bert?" she asks, voice rising with excitement. Gerard nods and she smiles. "Oh! Tell him I said hello."
"Mom says hello."
"Hey, Donna!" Bert screams, and Gerard is forced to take the phone away from his ear -- or risk going deaf. "How are you?"
"I'm fine," she says with a fond smile. "How are you?"
Gerard shakes his head, annoyed at being the middle-man in this conversation. "She says she's fine, and how are you?"
"Tell her I'm horny."
"I'm not telling her you're horny!"
"You just did!" More laughter.
Gerard stands up and hands the cellphone to his mother with a smirk. "You talk to him for a bit. I'm gonna grab another coffee."
From the kitchen, where he potters around methodically, resembling his mother more than he likes to think about -- making sure the counter stays tidy, rinsing the spoon, putting the milk back in the fridge, refilling the jug once he's used it -- he can hear Donna's half of the conversation clearly. It sounds like she's asking most of the questions. The motherly interrogation, Mikey likes to call it. Questions about his new songs, touring, the other guys in the band, his family. But when she starts asking Bert about his personal life, Gerard takes an extra interest.
"So are you still with ... No? Oh, that's a shame. She was a nice girl."
A pause.
"Really?"
More silence.
"It's not that -- I'm just surprised, that's all. I thought all that stuff was an act."
Gerard's sure he can hear the hum of Bert's voice on the other end of the line, before he's interrupted by his mother's gentle reproof.
"Of course not. Why would I think that? You're crazy ... It doesn't bother me at all! So, tell me about him."
Him.
Shit. Bert's got more balls than I have, he thinks. But then again, she's not his mother.
"He sounds ... very familiar," Donna says with a small smile as Gerard walks back into the living room, coffee in hand. "I'm so happy for you, sweetie ... Yeah, you too."
Gerard sits down on the sofa, raising his eyebrows in his mother's direction. She winks at him. Suddenly, for a reason he can't fathom, he feels the blood rushing to his face, queasiness building in his stomach, tension growing in his muscles.
His mother's voice distracts him once again. She doesn't seem to notice his embarrassment; she's absorbed in her phone conversation with Bert.
"Hey, since you're in town, why don't you come over for dinner tonight? It'd be great to catch up with you properly ... No, you don't need to bring anything! Just your appetite." She grins, glancing at Gerard again. "Sure ... I'll cook anything you want."
A minute or so later, Donna closes the phone and hands it back to her son. "He said he'll call you back later. He's got an interview soon."
Gerard nods briefly, avoiding her eyes. His cheeks are still burning and he thinks he's going to throw up.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit ... Damn you to hell, Bert. Damn you and your cute little ass.
"So -- you and Bert," she says, leaning across the sofa and grabbing a cushion.
He decides it's smarter to play dumb, so he keeps his eyes fixed on his shaking hands, inspecting his fingernails carefully before emitting a vague "Hmm?"
Donna fluffs the pillow before placing it on the couch again. "You've had a thing for him for years."
Gerard's jaw drops and he looks up at his mother, eyes round as saucers, face scarlet. Donna laughs at his expression and perches on the arm of the sofa, leaning across to slide an arm around her son's shoulder and place a kiss on the top of his messy head.
"What? I'm just surprised it took you so long," she says.
Gerard just shakes his head, eyes fluttering closed, and lets the relief wash over him. Later on, once the embarrassment has gone, relegated to one of the distant memories that occasionally make him squirm, he'll probably find this funny. Bert's bound to think it's hilarious -- largely because it involves Gerard making a fool of himself.
When he opens his eyes again, Donna is smiling calmly at him, as if finding out your eldest son is gay, and dating his best friend, is the most ordinary thing in the world.
And maybe it is.
Standalone
PG (swearing)
written May 2006
He sighs, looking up from the table to see his mother brushing the crumbs from the countertop into the palm of her hand. Briskly, she walks to the trash can and disposes of the crumbs, then moves to the sink to rinse her hands. Now and then, as she bustles around the kitchen, she looks up at him and smiles.
"You okay, honey?"
"Mmm."
His mother Donna is never still, not when there are things to be done. And there's always something for her to do; there always has been. From taking care of her two sons -- now fully grown physically, but still reliant on her emotionally -- to the husband and the house. Even now, when the boys have moved to New York and the husband has become an ex, Donna has her job, her friends, her nieces and nephews and cousins, her hobbies ...
"You need to relax," he always tells her. "I hate to see you looking so tired, Mom. Take a break. I'll help you with that."
"Don't be silly," she replies without fail. "Maybe one day, when there's nothing left to do, I'll put my feet up."
Then he'll open his mouth to contradict her, because there's always something else to do, and he doesn't want her to run herself ragged, and she'll silence him with the look: the right side of her mouth turning downwards, grey-green eyes steely, jawline firm, and say, in her don't-fuck-with-me tone of voice, "Would you stop worrying, Gerard? I'm fine."
So that's where Mikey gets it from, he thinks ruefully, the coffee cup warm against his palms as he drinks from it.
Once the cup is empty and his caffeine addiction sated for the moment, Gerard clears his throat. "Uh, Mom?"
"Yes?"
"I ... um -- I kinda wanna tell you something."
God, this is going to be harder than I thought, he says to himself. He takes a few deep breaths, running his fingers through the hair tickling the nape of his neck. What am I supposed to say? Hey, Mom, remember that time when I was nineteen and you asked me if I was gay, and I said no until I was blue in the face, even though you said it wouldn't be a big deal, and then I found a girlfriend as soon as I could to prove I wasn't lying? Well, kinda turns out that I was wrong ...
"Go on," Donna says, walking over to the kitchen table and placing a hand on his shoulder. "What is it?"
And you know my friend Bert -- the one you think is "such a nice boy, even if he is a little bit crazy", the one you wish you could see more often? Guess what? I see a lot of him. Pretty much all of him, actually ...
He sighs again. "I don't really know where to start," he says, staring into the empty coffee cup.
You might have to rely on Mikey if you wanna be a grandma ...
"Have you met someone?" she asks, sliding into the chair beside him. Gerard's cheeks begin to turn an interesting shade of pink and she grins. "I knew it! Well, tell me -- what's she like?"
She has a dick, for starters ...
"Oh, it's not like that -- "
"Yes it is! Come on, Gerard, you can tell me anything. I'm your mom. Whatever it is, it can't be as bad as your shitty diapers were," she says, laughing softly.
He takes a deep breath and rubs his eye wearily for a second. Get it over with, he thinks. "It's kind of a long story -- "
Mercifully, he's interrupted by the Star Wars theme tune. His cellphone is ringing, and he rolls his eyes, giving his mother a small apologetic shrug before pulling the device out of his pocket to answer it.
"Hello?"
"Hey. You told her yet?"
"I was just about to tell her when you called," Gerard replies through gritted teeth, somehow both relieved and frustrated.
A pause. "Oh, shit dude. You want me to go?"
"Nah, it's cool."
"Sure?"
"Yeah." He stands up and heads for the living room, letting his knees buckle as he drops onto the couch. A small sigh escapes him.
"This is really freaking you out, huh?"
Gerard pulls a face, although the person he's speaking to can't see it. "What the fuck do you think?"
"You don't know how lucky you are, Gee. How 'bout going to Happy fucking Valley and telling my parents?" This comment is followed by an insane giggle. "We'd be chased outta town by a mob with pitchforks, chanting 'Kill the Queers'."
"That's -- " He wants to say, that's not true, but he knows it probably is, so he lets the word trail off. Empty air fills the silence and he sighs again, trying to think of something to say. "It's good to hear from you," he finishes lamely.
Another giggle. "Aww ... does my Gee-Gee miss me?"
"Shut up!"
"Haha, that rhymed. I'm a poet and I didn't know it."
"Bert, you write songs for a living! You know how to make things rhyme, idiot."
Donna pokes her head through the open doorway. "Is that Bert?" she asks, voice rising with excitement. Gerard nods and she smiles. "Oh! Tell him I said hello."
"Mom says hello."
"Hey, Donna!" Bert screams, and Gerard is forced to take the phone away from his ear -- or risk going deaf. "How are you?"
"I'm fine," she says with a fond smile. "How are you?"
Gerard shakes his head, annoyed at being the middle-man in this conversation. "She says she's fine, and how are you?"
"Tell her I'm horny."
"I'm not telling her you're horny!"
"You just did!" More laughter.
Gerard stands up and hands the cellphone to his mother with a smirk. "You talk to him for a bit. I'm gonna grab another coffee."
From the kitchen, where he potters around methodically, resembling his mother more than he likes to think about -- making sure the counter stays tidy, rinsing the spoon, putting the milk back in the fridge, refilling the jug once he's used it -- he can hear Donna's half of the conversation clearly. It sounds like she's asking most of the questions. The motherly interrogation, Mikey likes to call it. Questions about his new songs, touring, the other guys in the band, his family. But when she starts asking Bert about his personal life, Gerard takes an extra interest.
"So are you still with ... No? Oh, that's a shame. She was a nice girl."
A pause.
"Really?"
More silence.
"It's not that -- I'm just surprised, that's all. I thought all that stuff was an act."
Gerard's sure he can hear the hum of Bert's voice on the other end of the line, before he's interrupted by his mother's gentle reproof.
"Of course not. Why would I think that? You're crazy ... It doesn't bother me at all! So, tell me about him."
Him.
Shit. Bert's got more balls than I have, he thinks. But then again, she's not his mother.
"He sounds ... very familiar," Donna says with a small smile as Gerard walks back into the living room, coffee in hand. "I'm so happy for you, sweetie ... Yeah, you too."
Gerard sits down on the sofa, raising his eyebrows in his mother's direction. She winks at him. Suddenly, for a reason he can't fathom, he feels the blood rushing to his face, queasiness building in his stomach, tension growing in his muscles.
His mother's voice distracts him once again. She doesn't seem to notice his embarrassment; she's absorbed in her phone conversation with Bert.
"Hey, since you're in town, why don't you come over for dinner tonight? It'd be great to catch up with you properly ... No, you don't need to bring anything! Just your appetite." She grins, glancing at Gerard again. "Sure ... I'll cook anything you want."
A minute or so later, Donna closes the phone and hands it back to her son. "He said he'll call you back later. He's got an interview soon."
Gerard nods briefly, avoiding her eyes. His cheeks are still burning and he thinks he's going to throw up.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit ... Damn you to hell, Bert. Damn you and your cute little ass.
"So -- you and Bert," she says, leaning across the sofa and grabbing a cushion.
He decides it's smarter to play dumb, so he keeps his eyes fixed on his shaking hands, inspecting his fingernails carefully before emitting a vague "Hmm?"
Donna fluffs the pillow before placing it on the couch again. "You've had a thing for him for years."
Gerard's jaw drops and he looks up at his mother, eyes round as saucers, face scarlet. Donna laughs at his expression and perches on the arm of the sofa, leaning across to slide an arm around her son's shoulder and place a kiss on the top of his messy head.
"What? I'm just surprised it took you so long," she says.
Gerard just shakes his head, eyes fluttering closed, and lets the relief wash over him. Later on, once the embarrassment has gone, relegated to one of the distant memories that occasionally make him squirm, he'll probably find this funny. Bert's bound to think it's hilarious -- largely because it involves Gerard making a fool of himself.
When he opens his eyes again, Donna is smiling calmly at him, as if finding out your eldest son is gay, and dating his best friend, is the most ordinary thing in the world.
And maybe it is.