She wrote a lot of amazing fan fictions; she's a hell of a writer. But this is definitely my favourite from her, and it is for sure the best My Chemical Romance fan fiction I've ever read. And I've read quite a few. So, I thought I'd share it -again- with the World. Cuz it's awesome, and it deserves to be read.
20
I woke up at two o'clock in
the afternoon on one day the next month and stumbled into the kitchen. I'd been
sleeping better lately and I was trying to eat more but my appetite had just
nearly diminished.
But I was trying to better look after myself, for Liza, so I ate an apple.
Just as I'd thrown the core into the rubbish bin, the phone rang, so I bounded
over and picked it up.
"Hi! If you are Bob,
press 1. If you are Gerard, please press 2 and if your identity is Ray Toro,
press 3. Mikey, if this is you, please press 4 and if you're Frank, why the
hell haven't you called?"
"Can I have my own
number too?" A slightly familiar voice asked. "I want 7."
"Oh shit, sorry about
that ... Who is this?"
"Darling, don't be
sorry, you're cute. It's Bert."
"Bert! How are
you?"
"Ugh, tired. I just
got off a plane and now I need someone to come pick me up."
"Where did you just
fly in?"
"Funny you should
mention that, I'm in New Jersey-
"I can pick you up!
How soon would you like me to come get you?"
"Now please," he
answered. "It's weird not being here with anyone."
"Okay, I'll be ten
minutes, at the max."
"Okay," he
replied and then hung up.
I stared at the phone as it
made its empty beeping 'no one's here anymore, moron'- sound, before hanging up
aswell. On the way to the airport, I got stuck in traffic and Bert called four
times with exclamations of joy that I was coming to pick him up though,
apparently, I was 'taking my sweet time'. I found it disturbing that he had my
cell number though I'd only met him three times before - Gerard must have given
him my number. I'll kill him.
I was giving a full-blown
rendition of Total Eclipse of The Heart; my hands off the steering wheel
(as the Cherokee remained stationary) to gesture wildly and sometimes
obscenely, and my vocal chords straining as I belted out the words, fully aware
my window was wound down; when everyone started moving again and the person in
the car behind me honked their horn.
I turned and glared at the driver before turning back around and slamming my
hand down hard on my own horn.
Then I had to give the police officer in the cruiser driving beside me an
extremely sheepish look when he stared at me in a mixture of apprehension,
astonishment and disapproval. Thankfully, I sweetly smiled my way out of God
knows what kind of fine and made it to the airport, where Bert was standing out
the front, like's we'd agreed in one of his 'hurry up' calls to me.
As usual, his black hair
was stringy and unkempt but drawn behind his ears; his jeans were too baggy and
ripped, and his shirt was stained just above his hip aswell as being wrinkled
so much it looked like he'd be folded into a ball the size of my brain. Mm-hm,
pretty damn small.
But, oh my god(!), he looked like he'd showered recently, and he'd definitely
shaved.
When he saw me, a huge manic grin appeared on his face and he started bouncing
up and down on the balls of his feet where his suitcase and backpack were
thrown.
He looked great.
I stared at him and then
pointedly at the passenger seat but he just stood there, looking back and ignoring
my 'get in the damn car' hints. Obviously he wanted me to get out to collect
him myself. I shook my head but killed the ignition, tried to take off my seat
belt (then realizing I wasn't wearing one) and got out, thinking He is way
too used to getting his own way.
"Heya Fugly!" I cried as I walked up to him, twirling my keys in
one hand. Several people turned around to watch.
He stuck his tongue out at
me. "I'll ignore that-"
"I'm kidding," I
assured him, holding up my hands and grinning.
"Well, in that
case," He threw his arms wide, "C'mere sexy!"
I stepped into the hug he
had waiting for me but pulled away, slapping his hands when they started to
wander
lower than I was comfortable with.
"So, what's up?"
"Little Bert, thanks
to that outfit." I winced at his crudeness and then looked down at myself
- okay, so I'd gotten in the car to pick him up wearing what I'd rolled out of
bed in, oh well. He grinned. "Don't worry, you still look ravishing. I'm
especially loving that shirt."
I tugged on the hem of the
black and pink The Used tee I had stolen from Frank's bag before he left. I always wore it now.
"C'mon, grab your stuff and let's go.
Predictably, Bert didn't
have anywhere lined up to stay so he asked if he could stay with me. Though,
technically, the apartment belonged to Frank and Mikey, I decided they wouldn't
mind, and agreed. Big mistake.
Bert needed constant attention
- even more than Frank's dog did - and he got bored very fast.
I had to go to work at the bookstore - he either came with and got bored, or
stayed behind and got bored.
I had to go to bed at a certain time to prepare for a shoot the next day - he
either watched me sleep and got bored, or sat on the couch watching late night
TV and got bored.
I had to go for a modeling job - he sulked like a scorned child when I told him
he couldn't come watch and got bored (he never failed to tell me when I got
back) staying behind.
After days of persistence,
Bert finally persuaded me to take a week off work so I could spend some more
time with him during the day.
I began to want my old life
back. Sure, he was adorable but he was also immature.
Who on Earth skips a shower when he wakes up so that he can eat Fruit Loops at
four o'clock in the morning so it's a definite that it's dark and guess
(loudly, in his 'outdoor voice' to me as I try and get some sleep) what flavor
he was eating? What kind of grown man does that?
Why is he so hyper-active, loud, annoying and self-absorbed?
And why, when I know all this, can I not bring myself to tell him to
stop? I just let him continually raid my underwear drawer, paint me morning
messages on the bedroom window, walk into the bathroom when he damn well knows
I'm either having a bath or showering, draw faces on me when I fall asleep on
the couch after a long, stressful day ...
He'd only keep on annoying
me if I didn't say something but I couldn't burst his bubble. I couldn't make
him think I don't like him - because I do, I just can't handle how
eccentric he is. I want some 'me time' occasionally but he's so fucking
intrusive, it's hard to find that time anymore. And the thing is that he's
doing all this so innocently because he doesn't realize how aggravating his behavior
is at most times.
And believe me, my week off
is doing nothing to help - at all. I'm getting more and more frustrated with
Bert as the days roll by.
"Hey Ray," I said
into the phone once he'd picked up. It was nearing the end of my week off which
meant that my boys would be coming home in three weeks - less, actually.
"Greetings and
salutations, Carrie! How are we on this fine, fine day?"
I looked outside the window
and scowled. "Maybe where ever you are is fine but here it's drizzling and
the forecast says it might hail aswell. What're you doing?"
"Eating breakfast,
what about you?"
"Same," I
answered, looking down bleakly at my bowl of ice cream.
There was a pause on Ray's
end and I'm guessing he was consulting his watch. "But it's seven o'clock
here, that must mean it's .."
"Four o'clock in the
morning here in Jersey ," I finished.
"I know."
"You crazy
bitch," He exclaimed. "Why the hell aren't you enjoying the bliss
that is sleepy unconsciousness?"
I looked up and across the
table, where Bert was sitting cross-legged atop the counter, twirling a spoon
in a jar of honey (his breakfast, apparently), staring back at me. I flinched.
He'd been doing this for a while now and it was seriously starting to creep me
out.
"I was woken up," I answered Ray, looking away from Bert but I could
still feel his eyes on me.
"By her?"
I frowned in confusion
before realizing he meant the dog. "She has a name now," I announced
proudly.
Bert had named her.
"Well, what is
it?"
"Madonna," I answered
but I was distracted by Bert who was walking over to me.
His eyes didn't leave mine so I didn't notice he'd stolen some of my breakfast
until I saw his finger appear in front of his face and his tongue lick all my
ice cream off. I glared at him, more playful than serious, and moved my bowl
out of his reach, while trying to listen to Ray.
Bert smirked and I shuddered involuntarily when gave me that same level of
intensity in the look.
Frank, remember Frank, I had to remind myself before looking
away. He took this opportunity to scoop up some of my breakfast again to eat. I
grabbed the bowl and held it away from him, high above my head. He growled and
launched himself at me.
"Holy fuck!"
I gasped when the ice cream spilt all over us, mainly me. We were knocked to
the ground since I couldn't kept my balance with his added weight and now Bert
was hovering over; somewhat straddling my bottom half; as he smiled
victoriously down at me. I sniffed haughtily. "What are you looking
at?"
"The most beautiful
thing in the world covered in ice cream." He couldn't keep the cheeky grin
off his face.
I grinned. "Oh, did we
get Madonna?"
"She's asleep on your
bed."
"Well then I have no
idea who you're talking about."
He giggled. "Carrie, I
think you should clean yourself up, that ice cream is seriously everywhere on
you."
"Well who's fault is
that?"
"Mine?"
"Yep, so you should
clean it up - the paper towels are..."
I stopped talking when I felt something wet running across my cheek. It was
Bert's tongue.
He was licking me... I don't know why, but I suddenly couldn't breathe.
I closed my eyes for a
moment and when I opened them Bert had stopped and pulled away. He was smiling
down at me.
"Weren't you talking to Ray?"
"Oh... right," I
muttered, my eyes travelling to the discarded phone. I looked back at Bert.
"He's probably hung up already. Besides, this is much more interesting."
He looked down at me with
something I couldn't read. I'd never been good with stuff like that.
"Isn't it?"
"Very." My gaze
wandered to his lips and I licked mine when I saw they had ice cream on them,
just waiting to be lapped up. "Uh, Bert you have something on...uh, on
you..."
"So do you," he
responded, leaning down and carefully licking the tip of my nose. I stared at
him as he leaned his face very close to mine. "Well, are you going
to clean me off?"
My gaze became fixated on
his lips as I considered if I should. Frank part of me said in reminder
but I didn't want to listen to it.
Oh, what the hell, I thought as I leant up towards Bert's mouth. I'm
horny dammit and Frank's not here.
My lips almost touched his but then he sat back teasingly. My jaw dropped
and I glared.
I hate him so much right now.
"I knew
it!" He suddenly exclaimed triumphantly. When he saw my puzzled
expression, he explained, "You've been acting weird and I -"
"I have not been
acting weird," I protested.
"Yeah, you have -
you've been acting as if you hate me. And I know why?"
Okay, now I'm interested.
"Why?"
"Sexual tension
Carrie." He leant closer. "You want to fuck me."
My mouth opened in shock
and my eyes narrowed. He was so fucking crude he sounded like Gerard. I decided
I should try a different tactic. "I think it's you who wants to
fuck me."
Bert squealed. "So
glad you agreed," He told me before kissing my lips roughly.
At first I froze in shock -
I hadn't expected him to react this way. He was meant to back off, joke about
it in disgusting context the next day and then forget about the incident until
he decided to try it again.
Because yes it has happened before and yes he always tries it again.
But it never gets this far.
I stopped battling with my
conflicting feelings (Frank ... Bert ... Frank, Bert?) and kissed him back. I
deepened it and Bert moaned; he pulled away to kiss a path over my jaw and down
my neck and it was my turn to moan. My hands fumbled to get his shirt
off as his hands travelled up and down my sides.
His shirt was off, my pants were unbuttoned and both sets of hands were
grabbing for each other's bodies.
I was still feeling guilty
but, to battle that part of me, there was another part, watching Bert and
myself and urging me on. I didn't need that part of me there to keep on going.
Bert's little whimpers, throaty groans and moans were enough. There was no
turning back, I knew as we awkwardly stood up; still groping, unclothing and
kissing each other; and stumbled to my bedroom.
Madonna growled at us when
we landed on the bed, only in our underwear by now, but gave up her comfortable
spot among the sheets anyway to trot out of the room, disgruntled.
Bert woke up half an hour
after the deed was done to find me watching him. His reaction was to smirk
confidently and stretch his whole body next to mine. I was self-consciously
covering up in the blankets while he was staring at me, unconcerned that he was
completely naked.
"Do you think you
could cook eggs on a barbeque?" He asked.
I raised an eyebrow at the
randomness of the question but answered nonetheless. "Yes."
"How can you be so
sure?"
"Done it before."
"What about an emu
egg? Do you think you could cook an emu egg on a barbeque?"
"Isn't an emu one of
those big and evil Australian birds?" He nodded and I considered.
"How big do you think their eggs are?"
"About as big as The
Darkness's popularity should be."
"Not a fan of The
Darkness, I take it? Me neither."
"Who do you think
would survive if you and I both got hit by a bus - at the same time, same
bus?"
"Bert, what is with
all these weird questions?"
"The same thing that's
with you jumping me earlier. Now answer."
I shook my head. He made no
sense whatsoever sometimes. "You jumped me."
"We'll get to that
later but, first, who do you think would survive?"
"Me."
"I thought so. But
why?"
"Because you smoke and
I don't."
"That can't be the
reason, scientist, it just doesn't add up."
"Because Rita Hayworth
can't act or because Hasslehoff is really a giraffe in disguise?"
He laughed and kissed me on
the mouth, long and hard. "You are so weird Carrie."
I snuggled up to him.
"Just because I thought Po was the purple
teletubbie and not the red one, doesn't mean I'm weird."
"How could you not
know which one Po is?" Bert demanded.
"Po is the gay, red one - everyone
knows
that."
"Well I thought he was
purple and gay. You know, like Barney the dinosaur?"
"Don't insult Barney
or I'll burn your toast tomorrow."
"You never make me
breakfast."
"Well I'll start
tomorrow so I can burn it."
"I just won't eat it
then," I said snottily.
He gave me a serious look,
the first one he'd given me in quite a while. "Carrie, if I make you toast
you will eat that toast. You don't eat enough and just look at you. You're skin
and bones."
I ran my hand over his
ribs. "You can talk."
"Ah, but I can only
talk about silly but extremely important things - like you not eating my
toast."
"How long are you
staying?" I changed the subject which, of course, he fell for.
"Why?" He
smirked. "Do you want me to stay?"
I kissed him. "Do you want
to stay?"
"Of course I do."
"Well then don't be a
gremlin and stay."
"Gremlins are the
CIA's spy network of squirrel's best friends."
"No, wombats are the
squirrels' best friends."
"Why do we both keep
on referring to Australian animals?" Bert asked, nipping my bare shoulder
gently.
I moaned and then pushed
him away so I could answer his question. "I think it's because of some
disease we have but I can't be sure."
He looked at me anxiously.
"Well then how can we be sure?"
"By running
tests."
"What sort of
tests?" He asked, looking at me with all of his attention.
"First, urine
samples."
"How can we be sure
what the urine samples mean?"
"By having blood tests
aswell and seeing if our blood is still red."
"How do the urine and
blood tests relate though?"
I tried to think.
"Well obviously if our blood is red our piss will be yellow."
"You're a dork,"
he told me while pressing kisses to the inside of my elbow. He tried to pull me
closer to him. "Come here."
I quickly found and put on
my underwear again before getting out of bed and of Bert's reach. Pouting, I
told him," You called me a dork so leave me alone."
He swiped out his hand but
I danced away, so he got out of bed aswell, though he didn't bother with covering anything up.
"I didn't mean it," he tried to reconciliate.
"Too late now Bert.
What's said has been said."
Wait ... what was the point of me saying that again? Meh.
He grabbed me around the
middle and held me against him, my back to his chest. "I can make it all
better," he murmured against my neck. When I didn't struggle, he started
kissing all of my bare skin. "So, did you enjoy yourself?"
It took a minute to realize
what he meant but when I did I elbowed him in the gut. "Bert! You can't
just ask how I think our fuck went!"
"Yeah, you can,"
he said indifferently. "I'd say you were fairly good."
I turned to face him and
his arms circled my waist. "Fairly good?"
"I might change that
grade if you reconsider giving me one."
I rolled my eyes. "Fine
... you were," I sighed and paused, which he seemed to take for a good
sign.
"Pretty damn good,
right?" He asked, grinning.
"Yeah, but it could be
because you're my first for quite a while."
He grinned proudly at me
and nuzzled into my neck, his hands starting to wander around to my back, to undo my bra again. I swatted his hands away and poked his side. "What
about me?"
He pulled me closer in a
big, smothering hug "Carrie-bear you were magnificent."
I narrowed my eyes
suspiciously. "Really?"
"Yes, like a skinny,
sexy rabbit."
"Rabbit?"
He pulled away and gave me
an admonishing look. "Don't doubt rabbits, Carrie, they are the world's
biggest players. Sex machines."
"Okay, I'm
satisfied."
"So, um ... are we
going to make this a regular thing?"
I raised my eyebrows.
"You standing in front of me naked?"
Yeah, sure.
"Carrie, don't make
this difficult, okay? I have low self-esteem, don't ruin me now."
I snorted. "You, low
self-esteem? Bert, you have issues but esteem isn't one of them."
"You're very good at
it but can you please not change the subject? Are we now a couple?"
"Bert, I'm not the
type for one morning stands."
He squealed. "We are!
Now, for our two hour anniversary let me bang your brains out."
Charming, really.
I struggled away. "Bert,
not again! No, I -" I stopped when I heard the door close and someone's
voice inside the apartment. My eyes shifted to Bert and I paled. Oh shit.
He saw my look and grabbed
my arms. "What's wrong?"
"Shhhh!" I
hissed. I dragged him to the bathroom adjoining the bedroom and shoved him in.
"Babe, I'm
sorry about this. Can you stay in here for me? Please?"
"Al-" I didn't
give him a chance to finish, I just closed the door and locked it from my side.
I turned around to
put some clothes on but the person was already in the room
Oh fucking shit.
"Frank."
xo-
~ My Chemical Romance is done. But it can never die. Because it is not a band- it is an idea. ~
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