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It pisses Jimmy off a little, how obvious Gerard thinks he isn't.
They're in a restaurant that makes him feel like a homeless druggie outside a palace. White tablecloths. Tiny candles. A waiter who keeps refilling their water every half a second. Jimmy picked it because it's Valentine's Day and because sometimes he likes to pretend he enjoys spending money on stupid shit.
One thing though, Gerard hasn't touched his food. Not once. Didn't even try. "You know that cow died for nothing now, right?" Jimmy says, stabbing at Gerard's steak with his knife. "Like- It had fucking dreams. Probably.
" Gerard huffs, poking at the rim of the plate. Jimmy keeps talking because there's no point in dwelling on it. If a grown man doesn't want to eat, why make him?
"I feel underdressed here," Jimmy clasps his hands together on his lap. "I'd probably be better off stripped." He pulls at the collar of his shirt jokingly.
Gerard looks up, but he doesn't meet Jimmy's eyes. Lower. Jimmy feels it land this time. He feels it drag along his throat down to his collarbone.
He swallows mid-sentence. "Oh," he says quietly. "Shit." Gerard's fork presses into the steak without cutting.
His jaw tightens and he looks away. Then back again. "Don't," Gerard mutters.
"Don't what?" Jimmy says. "Exist?" Good one, Jimmy.
"You're doing it on purpose." Jimmy tilts his head slightly. Maybe he is. It's not that he wants a scene, he just loves this side of Gerard more than he'd like to admit.
Jimmy leans closer across the table, voice dropping. "You've been staring at my throat for like twenty minutes," he says. "It's getting awkward. Either commit or stop looking at me like I'm the steak."
Gerard inhales sharply at that. His control wavers for half a second. Just enough. "Jimmy-"
"Relax. I'm not made of glass. Far from it." Gerard stands abruptly, chair scraping softly. He rounds the table. Jimmy's pulse jumps.
Gerard's hand settles at his waist. His mouth brushes Jimmy's neck. The first touch is light. Jimmy's breath catches despite himself. He grips the edge of the table and mutters, "Just don't make it weird." The bite comes clean. Gerard isn't messy, unless he wants to be.
Jimmy sucks in air through his teeth and immediately reaches back for his blazer. "Jesus, okay," he mutters, swinging it up and over Gerard's head and shoulders in one motion. "If someone sees this, they're going full fucking medieval on you." He pulls the fabric down around them, shielding Gerard like an old, fragile vase. It feels oddly intimate.
The jacket drapes over Gerard's head and part of Jimmy's shoulder, blocking the view from most angles. He thinks about how weird they must look. But he really couldn't give a shit.
Gerard makes a soft, satisfied sound against his throat, suction deepening slightly now that he's covered. "Yeah, yeah," Jimmy breathes. "Privacy acquired. You're welcome."
He slides a hand to Gerard's chest, pressing firmly over his ribs. "Right here," Jimmy whispers. "Stake. Boom. Straight through the fucking heart. I can see it now."
His fingers move in slow circles, gentle though firm. Gerard lets out a quiet, involuntary coo at that. The sound vibrates into Jimmy's skin. Jimmy's knees weaken, luckily seated.
"Don't-" Jimmy starts, then exhales shakily. "Don't get greedy." Gerard never does. He suckles slow, never taking more than he needs. How much is that? Not a clue.
Jimmy stares at the inside lining of his own blazer and thinks about how ridiculous this is. What was the need for spending a fuck-ton of money just for his boyfriend to drink him dry. He doesn't mind though, just wishes he could start eating too.
Gerard pulls back on his own, tongue smoothing over the marks as an apology. His warm breath sends goosebumps up the back of Jimmy's neck. Jimmy unveils Gerard. "Okay?" Gerard murmurs. Jimmy snorts.
"Yeah, Dracula. I'm thriving. You?" Gerard's thumb presses lightly into his waist.
"Better." Jimmy finally drops the blazer back over the chair like nothing happened. Gerard straightens his hair, smooths his expression, sits down. "Is there anything around my mouth?"
"Nnope." And thankfully, no one seems to have noticed them - or they were just minding their own fucking business. Jimmy picks up his fork again. "Next year," he mutters, nudging Gerard's foot under the table, "no fucking way I'm dining us out again if you're gonna pull this shit."
Gerard smiles at him. "Fine by me." His cheeks are rosy and warm, contrasted by his ghostly white skin.
Jimmy rolls his eyes. "Happy Valentine's Day, you freak."