On some level, Gerard knows he's being a bitch. He knows he shouldn't poke at people like that, just because he's bored and restless and jittery. But he just can't help it.
He shifts unhappily in the hard plastic airport chair. Goddamn, what evil genius designed these things, anyway? Checks his watch again. 11:27:30. 31. 32. 33. Christ. It's the waiting that's the worst. Preoccupied with watching the second hand of his watch go around and wishing his iPod battery wasn't being a pissy little bitch that ran out of power at the worst moments, he doesn’t notice her until –
"Boo."
He doesn't jump out of his chair. Barely.
"Hey, rockstar." She drapes her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek. "Let's go home, yeah?"
"Mmm." He rests his head back against her. "Hi."
"C'mon; we can snuggle at home."
He makes an unhappy little noise, and bites at his lip, refusing to move. She's warm and comforting and he's been stuck in airports and planes for the last 31 hours straight.
"Gerard." He draws in a sharp breath; he knows that voice, the one that cuts through to the need he pushes down to keep it hidden from the rest of the world. And yes. Yes. He stands, grabs the handle of his suitcase. "Mmm. Good." She trails one fingernail down the veins on the side of his neck. He shivers.
Lindsay grabs his hand and grins. "So tell me the promised epic story of your fucked up plane ride including why you were six hours late. I'm expecting at least one fiery crash."
"Um. So there was a flood in, like, Texas or some shit, and..."
*
By the time they pile through the door into their apartment he's finished with his epic tale and they're brainstorming ways to creatively punish the airline agent who routed him through Toronto instead of Chicago, causing him to miss that connection waiting in the customs line.
He's also spent the half hour drive from the airport trying not to show how jittery he is. His self-control is starting to fray around the edges.
"So, you want to take a shower first or just collapse?"
He’s too needy, strung out from the whole week; he hadn’t come since he left, when she tied him up against the wall and whispered to him that he wasn't allowed, her breath hot in his ear. Please don't be that cruel. I can't, can't..."Lyn, please."
Gerard/Lyn-Z, NC17, 1/2
He shifts unhappily in the hard plastic airport chair. Goddamn, what evil genius designed these things, anyway? Checks his watch again. 11:27:30. 31. 32. 33. Christ. It's the waiting that's the worst. Preoccupied with watching the second hand of his watch go around and wishing his iPod battery wasn't being a pissy little bitch that ran out of power at the worst moments, he doesn’t notice her until –
"Boo."
He doesn't jump out of his chair. Barely.
"Hey, rockstar." She drapes her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek. "Let's go home, yeah?"
"Mmm." He rests his head back against her. "Hi."
"C'mon; we can snuggle at home."
He makes an unhappy little noise, and bites at his lip, refusing to move. She's warm and comforting and he's been stuck in airports and planes for the last 31 hours straight.
"Gerard." He draws in a sharp breath; he knows that voice, the one that cuts through to the need he pushes down to keep it hidden from the rest of the world. And yes. Yes. He stands, grabs the handle of his suitcase. "Mmm. Good." She trails one fingernail down the veins on the side of his neck. He shivers.
Lindsay grabs his hand and grins. "So tell me the promised epic story of your fucked up plane ride including why you were six hours late. I'm expecting at least one fiery crash."
"Um. So there was a flood in, like, Texas or some shit, and..."
*
By the time they pile through the door into their apartment he's finished with his epic tale and they're brainstorming ways to creatively punish the airline agent who routed him through Toronto instead of Chicago, causing him to miss that connection waiting in the customs line.
He's also spent the half hour drive from the airport trying not to show how jittery he is. His self-control is starting to fray around the edges.
"So, you want to take a shower first or just collapse?"
He’s too needy, strung out from the whole week; he hadn’t come since he left, when she tied him up against the wall and whispered to him that he wasn't allowed, her breath hot in his ear. Please don't be that cruel. I can't, can't..."Lyn, please."