(no subject)
Title: Kisses in the Snow
Pairing: Gabe/Gerard
Rating: pg13
Wordcount: 1270
Summary: Gerard doesn't even notice he's snowed in until Gabe tells him. Luckily Gerard doesn't want Gabe to go anywhere.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Gerard’s in the middle of a project when the door opens. He doesn’t know the door opens because it creaks, or because someone knocks before they enter. He knows because he’s sitting on the floor, papers radiating around him like the ripples of a pond, and the sudden breeze ruffles them.
“Mikey says you’ve been up like two days. You okay?”
Gerard grunts. There’s only window in his room and it’s basically useless for telling the passage of time. It’s one of those basement windows that’s set below the grass level of the property and is in constant shadow. When Gerard moved down into the basement he covered the inside of the window well with band stickers. They’ve been destroyed by the weather, only small white patches left. His digital clock is hidden behind the bulges of the pillows on his bed. He can’t even see it when he’s laying down on his bed. It’s entirely possible Gerard’s been awake two days, he has no way of knowing. He’s been up since the start of this project, and he’ll be up until it’s done. He needs a great portfolio to get into the school he wants. Everything else comes second.
“Do you have insomnia like him? My other friend Pete has it too.”
Gerard gropes at his side until he finds the bottle and chucks it with a flick of the wrist. It’s a shitty throw, but Gabe is smooth, he catches it. The younger teen takes a look at it and shakes his head. “I don’t want any. I’m kinda straight edge?”
Gerard shrugs, getting a whiff of his armpit as he unlocks his arms from the drawing position they’ve been in. He’s kinda rank. Not that he’ll waste the time it takes to shower. “They’re caffeine pills. Totally legal.” One pill is equivalent to two cups of coffee, without needing to get up and piss later.
“Still not interested. Goodnight, for whenever they wear off.” And before Gerard can react, Gabe kisses the top of his head like a parent would to a child, and leaves, closing the door behind him.
Gerard smiles for a second before he gets back to work.
*
“Do you want to fool around?”
The question is startling enough that it actually sneaks in past his haze of work and overstimulated exhaustion and is heard. It’s startling enough that Gerard blinks. He can’t really remember the last time he did that. His eyes feel like they’re on fucking fire, like he thought he was smoking pot but was actually smoking crystalised gasoline. Not that he’s actually been smoking anything. It’s a shitty metaphor. His right brain is focused entirely on lines and shading, not witty sentences.
“Huh?”
“Gerard. Way. Do you want. To fool around. With me?” With the tone Gerard would expect rolled eyes, but Gabe’s just intensely staring at him, like the world hinges on his answer.
Gerard’s been too busy to actively seek out a partner. Senior year is hell when you need a scholarship to go anywhere, and a portfolio of works to go somewhere you want to go. Here’s a potential partner literally walking into his room and stretching himself over his bed. It’s a pretty awkward position to be in if he says no. Gerard is half tempted to, just to see how Gabe will extract himself. He’s also tempted to crawl into the space left on the bed and see how long it’ll take to get Gabe’s shirt off.
He goes with the second. The first might make a funnier long term memory, an anecdote to share, but it lacks the specific pro of someone’s hand down his pants. Its been way too long since someone’s hand was down his pants. Why not Mikey’s friend? He’s got beautiful long fingers.
*
“This room smells like death,” Gabe says when he comes in for the third time.
“Why are you still here?” Gerard doesn’t say it meanly. He’s just curious. Mikey’s come in twice to give him drinks and full size bags of pretzels -as delicious as chips, without the horrifying oil stains if he drops one and doesn’t notice- which means it’s probably been a full day. He crashed hard after coming. No doubt he’s slept something like thirteen hours. It happens a lot. Gabe was there when he fell asleep, gone when he woke up. Gerard had just assumed he went home.
Gabe frowns. “There’s a window right there. Do you never look up?”
Gerard follows Gabe’s arm ending in pointed finger. He can’t see anything, the window is a dark grey. “Not really,” he answers when the question really hits him. “One drop of acid rain and you’re blind for a lifetime.”
“It is blizzarding like fuck outside. No car is going anywhere. No bike is going anywhere. Shit, no one with a screen door that swings out instead of in is going anywhere. I’m sure a bunch of branches have already broken under the weight of snow. Time to start counting batteries, is what I’m saying.”
Oh. So the window well is full of snow then, that’s why it looks weird. “So you’re just camping out here?”
“In this weather General Ross and Bruce Banner would have to camp out together. So, yeah.”
“Me and you and Mikey could watch a movie later? After I finish?” Gerard’s never really finished, not with the pressure he’s under. But he could put aside for a few hours, if Gabe wanted.
“See you later, then.”
*
The next time Gabe visits his arms are curled out in front of him. None of the things he’s carrying are things Gerard is particularly interested in. A parka, boots, a thick pair of sweatpants, plastic bags, a scarf. Okay, maybe he’s interested in the scarf.
“Fuck the movie. We’re going to play.”
Gerard is skeptical. He’s skeptical through Gabe forcing him to put the sweatpants over his jeans, he’s skeptical when Gabe is wrapping the Wal-Mart bags around his feet, and he’s skeptical when Gabe helps him tug on a pair of mitts on top of those thin one size fits all stretchy gloves that his mom has like seventeen of, none of which match.
There is a ridiculous amount of snow when Gabe opens the door. Enough that Gerard has to step up to cross the threshold.
“Snowball fight or snow angels?”
The only exposed bit of Gerard is from eyebrows to nostrils. It’s entirely too much, if you ask him. Which Gabe kinda did, so he might as well be honest. “Hmm. I vote for going back inside.”
“Okay. Snowmen it is. Not just any snowman though. Build a creeper.” Gerard looks at Gabe quizzically, although it’s kind of hard to tell between the triple wrapped scarf and the hood cinched tight around his face. Gabe explains “Make a snowman in your yard that if it was a human neighbours would gossip and parents would make their kids stop playing on the street. A creeper.”
Gerard laughs. “You are one messed up guy.”
“Admit you want to make an old man offering children popsicles snowman. The sooner you say it the sooner you can start.”
Gerard looks at the impossible amount of snow on the ground, and instead pulls his scarf down to bare his lips. There’s a crunching sound as he steps forward. Face already pink with windburn, Gabe looks like he exists to be kissed. It’s Gerard’s duty as a human being to fulfill that order. Even if he freezes to death doing it. They’ll be a beautiful statue until spring hits, classic dimensional art far better than anything his tired cramping hand could create.