fic: These and More Than These
Title: These and More Than These
Pairing: Chase Stein/Gertrude Yorkes
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 1645
Note: Wrote this January 2013, a series of random drabbles born out of the feelings I had after Gert's death and the unfulfilled relationship. Unbeta-ed so mistakes are solely mine. Comments are appreciated! (:
***
“Huh. Guess I'm not going to die a virgin after all.”
“Chase.” Gert pulls away with a loud pop and looks up at him with an eyebrow raised.
“Yeah baby?”
“Shut up.”
~
“How are you so good with… you know..” Chase does a crude motion later as they not-cuddle (It’s not cuddling! We’re just sitting really close to one another) on the couch in the main hall
Gert rolls her eyes. “I read.”
“You read porn? I thought you only read all the historical, political crap and your great literature.”
“I came across a book.” Gert mumbles and looks away but not before Chase catches the blush rising up her cheeks.
“Ah hah! Now you have to tell me everything.”
_____________________________________________________
“So I land better than I kiss?” Chase queries after the whole mess of leaving their parents to die at the hands of the Gibborim and then being brought back to the Avengers’ HQ for further interrogation.
It’s now five am in the morning and Gert snuck out of the rooms they put the girls in to look for Chase and he’s here and staring at her like a naughty school girl with that silly smirk of his and she gulps.
Sexual tension seems ridiculous when you’re outside the loop and now that she’s in, well. She really doesn’t know what to think besides how good looking Chase is and how he must be brain damaged for suddenly liking her. (Though the tests did come back negative, no concussions whatsoever)
“Yes, very sloppy.” She smirks back, defiant, moving back two paces as Chase moves forward one. This silly tango of theirs.
“And you would know about good kisses?” He moves even closer and bends down, brushing his lips from her cheek up to her temple in a light kiss. She ducks and moves back even more until her back hits the wall. Of course. The clichés of life. Chase places one hand against the wall and another around her waist, fingers ghosting along her lower back.
“Well there was Jordan in the sixth grade and Adam in the seventh.” She taunts cheekily and she briefly catches the glimpse of jealousy in his eyes before it’s replaced by amusement.
“Lies.” He whispers and then nips at her lips once. “You don’t like boys.”
“I like you don’t I?” She whispers back and then, sick of the foreplay, just pulls his face towards hers and kisses him hard. And this time, she angles their lips just right and he proves to have improved from their messy half make out half resuscitation session earlier.
“Practice makes perfect.” She mumbles and he laughs, loud and unbridled and she smiles.
_____________________________________________________
When darkness falls, when it’s just the sound of crickets and the creaking and shifting of rocks around the Hostel, Chase watches Gert sleep. It’s when she doesn’t have her guard up, just a calm expression, almost serene, on her face. He thinks she’s the most beautiful then, open and pure, only his and he thinks, hopes, maybe even one can call it a prayer, that she never will be seen like this by any other than him.
_____________________________________________________
Damn. I guess I really didn't say it to him after all. Gert thinks as she fails to form the words on her lips and all goes black.
_____________________________________________________
Her life is such a big cliché.
Of course her parents really have to be evil (evil beyond making sweet Orwell disappear) and she has to be one of those superheroes on the TV with the tacky outfits and lame phrases. ‘Avengers Assemble’. Really? How cute.
And as if that isn't bad enough, her stupid heart just has to fall in deep like for the stupid jock.
Love is tedious and just a silly thing people created because people seem to enjoy categorising and labelling things. Like the term bisexual.
Ridiculous, she thinks, even as she presses her lips to his unmoving ones and breathes.
Ridiculous it may be but don’t you dare die on me Chase Stein.
_____________________________________________________
Chase has deep scars, deeper than Gert knows to handle. Not that she’s an expert to begin with. Aside from the occasional books and internet articles about abuse and self harm and the effects of name calling upon ones psyche, she does not know what to do.
They’ve just returned from killing their parents. Personally, she doesn’t feel very much grief. Her parents did love her, but they also treated her like a child and were condescending at times. Gertrude Yorkes does not like condescension. Her parents were about to kill the entire world anyways, so technically what’s a few lives to millions right?
So why does she feel more lost than ever?
But right now it’s not about her, she mentally chastises herself. It’s about the boy she’s been harbouring feelings for ever since her parents warned her away from him (psychological cliché to do what her parents tell her not to but she doesn’t care) and one who may reciprocate her feelings. She watches as he takes a deep drag of something and decides that watching a person and not saying anything even as he knows your presence, is creepy.
“Smoking kills you know.” She states and settles beside him, wrapping her arms around her knees.
Chase snorts, takes one deep drag and to Gert’s surprise, stubs it out on the ground in front of him.
“Yeah, well, maybe I’ve lived too long.” He says and lets out a very bitter laugh. Gert frowns and then sighs.
“Chase…” She trails off, unsure of how to continue.
“No sorry. It’s just. Our parents, us, the Gibborim, Alex. Everything’s pretty fucked up isn’t it?”
Gert absolutely does not feel joy when he says ‘us’. She does not.
“Understatement of the millennia Chase.” She says instead and shrugs, settling her chin atop her knees.
“They really are gone aren’t they?”
“It would appear so. I don’t think anyone would have been able to survive the crash, at least not while tied up and/or unconscious.”
She feels rather than sees Chase shudder as they are pressed side to side and his head lolls forward into his open palm.
“Does it make me evil that I think it’s good they are all dead?” Chase turns and the glimmer of unshed tears, the vulnerability in his eyes, the confusion, it all makes Gert’s heart clench a little. She reaches out for his hand and squeezes it.
“No. It makes you human. It was either them or us and the rest of the world.” Gert says and bites her lip. That feeling of clarity, as if the implications have finally showed itself, rises within her and she feels goose bumps break out over her arms.
“Do you,” her throat feels too dry and she swallows several times, “do you miss them?” She asks and he exhales a deep long sigh.
“I― I..” Chase makes this noise from the back of his throat, mouth opening and closing before grimly pressing his lips together. “I don’t know. Maybe? They weren’t exactly the best of parents. It’s obvious they never wanted me.” Chase admits dejectedly and Gert feels rage building up, wishing she could punch his parents. But she holds her tongue. There’s a time to listen and she feels nobody ever listens to him.
“Did you know, I used to want to please them all the time. I used to try really hard at my studies, but I only managed to get Bs and Cs. Then one day I just stopped. I just woke up one day, sick of trying. Sick of getting sneered at when all I wanted was maybe just a proud father. I just stopped. And even through all the punches, I was happy, you know? I was finally doing things I wanted.”
Gert squeezes his hand, brings it to her face and presses a kiss to the back of it. She doesn't point out that those simple things he did were all in the name of spiting his parents, doesn't point out that he set himself on a self destructive path because of them.
“She didn't even try to stop him. Every time. Aren't mothers supposed to care for their children?” He brushes away the tears roughly.
“I'm just a useless fuck up to them. Would you believe me if I said that I still love them? That part of me regrets. I'm so pathetic.” Chase huffs and his upper lip curls into a sneer.
Gert's had enough. The dead have more hold on the living than they know. They slip away too easily and leave behind a shit ton of problems, leave behind shards and fingers attempting to put it back together. She turns to face him and slaps him.
“Wha?! Why’d you do that?” Chase pulls his hand away from where it’s clenched so tightly in hers and glares at her, hurt evident in those deep eyes of his.
“Chase Stein, never are you to do that to yourself again. You may be a useless fuck up to them, but they are dead and you are still alive.” “You matter.” She punctuates the two words with hard jabs at his arm. The ‘to me’ goes unspoken but she knows he understands, from the way his eyes soften.
Love makes people weak. So, what are you doing with this pretty face that will eventually leave? The cynical part of her whispers as she leans forward and presses kisses to his face, rubs away the tear tracks with her thumbs.
She could really grow to love him, she thinks, as she stands up and offers a hand to him. And isn’t that just dangerous?
So be it. She pulls his toned frame to hers and rubs soothing circles into his back as he sobs brokenly into her collar bone.
So be it.
End.