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It’s after four o’clock in the morning by the time Bert makes it back to the apartment, and to say Gerard is on edge would be a colossal understatement.
He usually is when he’s this thirsty, as well as when it’s this uncomfortably close to sunrise. So right now, Gerard has both of those working against him. Great. But at least Bert’s back, meaning the ball – or the blood – can finally get rolling.
Rising to his feet, Gerard all but races over to the front door, like he’s some housepet that’s been left on its own all day (all night, in his case). “H-hey!” He greets in an enthused but very shaky voice. It’s his attempt at both not seeming too eager or too anxious, and he’s coming up short on both counts.
Bert doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does, he doesn’t show it. “Hey yourself.” He heaves out a sigh as he shrugs off his hoodie and tosses it carelessly aside. He pushes past Gerard for the lumpy old couch, collapsing onto it.
“Fuck, am I beat. The assholes in the other band didn’t give us the stage until nearly one! They just kept playing and hogging!” Bert shakes his head as he puts his feet up on the coffee table, knocking down a few of the comic books that are scattered across it. They’re actually Bert’s comics, even if he likely doesn’t know it. Gerard had found them buried in a box deep in the back of Bert’s closet. He spent the better portion of the night reading them as a (failed) attempt to distract himself from his hunger.
“So by that point, half the crowd had left or moved on,” Bert continues, and Gerard comes to sit beside him on the couch. “And anyone that was still there barely gave a rat’s ass about us. The energy was long dead, which totally blows, because we sounded so damn good. Especially me, I was absolutely killing it, you shoulda heard me!”
“Yeah, yeah, absolutely killing it…” Gerard repeats back in a monotone, his eyes practically bulging as he stares at Bert’s neck.
Bert turns to Gerard, a dubious look on his face. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Of course I am,” Gerard lies, quickly hiding his face that’s giving him away against Bert’s neck. But in doing this, he’s now really taking in that sweet, tantalizing scent of blood. God, even after spending all night sweating away in some shitty basement bar, Bert still smells so damn good. Or at least this blood does.
“Yeah?” Bert shifts away from Gerard, forcing eye contact. “Then what was I just talking about?”
“Um.” Gerard bites down on his lip with his left fang. “Your evening…?”
“That’s a cop out answer, you weren’t listening, you damn liar!” Bert pokes Gerard in the forehead, tracing a finger along the side of his face until he reaches the protruding fang and pokes that as well. “But, I’ll let you off this time. I know what you want, so go on. Have at it.”
Finally, what he’s been waiting to hear all night! Gerard does not have to be told twice.
“Thank you!” He’s about to bite down on Bert’s neck, before he pauses. “Um, is it okay to bite in the neck tonight? Or did you want some place else?”
Gerard usually asks as a courtesy; it’s the least he can do when a human is consensually offering their blood to him, after all. And over the years, Gerard’s come to learn that, depending on where he bites, it can usually fulfill some sort of kink for the human as well. Especially when it comes to Bert, where literally anything and everything can turn into some sort of kink or turn-on
“Wherever you want, I don’t care.” Bert mumbles, yawning.
Gerard gives an understanding nod, opting to just go with the neck for simplicity sake. They’re both tired, and the neck, well, it’s a classic for a reason. Always satisfying for both vampire and human with masochistic tendencies alike.
Sinking his fangs into Bert’s neck, Gerard is immediately greeted with a rush of relief as the warm blood now courses through him. He can also feel Bert’s body relaxing underneath him as he gingerly sucks away, as if the tension and frustration of the disappointing evening is leaving Bert along with the blood.
Gerard pulls back after a moment, looking down at Bert to make sure he was alright and comfortable still. “You okay if I take a little more?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Bert agrees, as he tightens his hold around Gerard’s waist, now sort of half-cuddling the vampire. His eyes are clearly struggling to stay open, but that’s moreso due to his own exhaustion than it is the vampire draining the blood out of him. Because Gerard has taken far more blood than this from Bert, when he’s accidentally waited too long and let himself get super thirsty..
And now that Gerard is no longer in that anxious, jittery state, he doesn’t feel like he necessarily wants to take that much more, either. But that’s mostly because Bert’s blood tastes like how the human ate and drank tonight: kind of shitty. Gerard did not have to be there to know that Bert had eaten pizza even greasier than his hair and washed it down with the most bottom shelf liquor on the bar. No, he can taste it all too well in his blood.
“I really wish you would eat a more balanced diet…” Gerard complains as he licks some of the excess blood off of his lips. “It completely affects how your blood tastes, you know.”
"And I really wish you would shut the hell up and just drink it,” Bert snaps back. “Begging bloodsuckers don't get to be choosers, so quit bitching and keep sucking."
Gerard, again, does not have to be told twice. But he does pout a little this time as he presses his fangs back down into Bert’s neck, sucking a little more out of him.
He drinks until he’s mostly satiated and when he reaches his threshold of what he can stomach of the ‘junk food blood’. Pulling back, Gerard presses an appreciative kiss on the new mark he just left on Bert’s neck. “Thank you.”
“Mmm, yeah, you’re welcome…” Bert leans in to kiss Gerard’s lips, not minding the fact that they’re stained with his own blood. He never does. “Now that you got what you wanted, how about I get what I want, hmm?”
Gerard nods right away, fully anticipating this. “Okay, yeah, sure. That’s only fair!”
He figures that it’s going to be a request for sex; it usually is when it comes to Bert. Hopefully, Gerard can convince Bert of something quick as the sun is coming up soon, and he really does have to get moving. “What do you want?”
“Well, I wanna go the fuck to sleep–” Bert pauses, cut off by yet another yawn. “--And I want you to cuddle my ass the whole time that I’m doin’ it.”
Gerard blinks, slowly. Well, that’s certainly not what he’d been expecting…
“I… no, I can’t,” Gerard refutes. “The sun’s gonna come up, Bert, I–”
“I’ll close the curtains in my room,” Bert interrupts. “Even without them shut, barely any light comes in, there’s only one teeny tiny little window in this shitthole apartment. Plus, Jeph said it’s supposed to rain all day, anyways.”
“But…” Gerard tries to argue further, but he can’t think of much of an excuse. Really, he doesn’t even want to argue in the first place, because that does sound kind of nice. And it’s not like he’s got anywhere he needs to be, either. Well, aside from not in the sunlight, of course.
After one-hundred and seventeen years, you’d think he’d know better than to get attached to another human – willing bloodbag or not. But this is what Bert wants in exchange for his blood tonight, and fair is fair.
And if ‘fair’ just happens to be what Gerard wants, too? Then who is he to deny any of that?
Of course, Gerard is far too stubborn and proud to openly admit that, so he forces some melodramatics as he concedes: “Fine…” Gerard says with a huff. “But I’m leaving right at sunset tomorrow, I mean it! You got it?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say…” Bert stands up and stumbles slightly as he does so, his body seeming to process the blood loss it had just endured, albeit minor. He manages to regain his balance quickly and takes both of Gerard’s hands, helping him up. “Come on, let’s go, I’m fuckin’ spent…”
Sliding his arm around Bert’s waist, Gerard guides him to the bedroom. And just as promised, the curtains are drawn shut, the rain drops drum against the window, and the vampire ‘cuddles Bert’s ass’ the whole time he sleeps.
There’s only one promise that ends up broken – Gerard’s, about leaving right at sunset tomorrow. He does not.
He stays.