м¢я σиєѕнσтѕ

Push and Pull

Top!Gerard

Bottom!Y/N

Summary: Gerard wasn't uncomfortable, or upset, or anxious. He was jealous.

Gerard was so jealous he was practically green with it, and he had no idea.

Author: scarcityinbelief (on ao3)

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Date nights were infrequent between Gerard and me, peaking at three times in one month during our early days. More often than not, it was more than enough for the both of us to grab the big, patchwork quilt Gerard's grandmother had made for him, wrap it around the both of us and watch TV on his bed until we fell asleep. Every once in a while, though, we would agree to put real clothes on (that we didn't steal from each other) and go out for a few hours. If nothing else, it only made the rest of the night feel more personal, getting to spend the rest of the night baking in his microscopic apartment kitchen with half the lights on, or working on the puzzle that took up half of his table that we never ate on anyway.

Gerard had one hand in his jacket pocket, switching between picking the corner of his phone case which desperately needed a repair, and his wallet, which held a multitude of receipts and coins that he never emptied out. The other hand was holding a cigarette to his lips, his fifth one of the day. Five cigarettes by 5:00 PM would seem miniscule if we had woken up at a decent hour, but we really only got out of bed at around noon, and only to make coffee and return to bed. He only got up to come up behind me while I waited for our coffees to brew, and only to rest his chin on the top of my head, with his arms around my shoulders, mumbling something about how I smelled like him.

My arm was weaved through the one he had in his pocket as I looked up at him, watching his mouth move. I promise, at some point I knew what he was rambling on about, and if I tuned in enough, I could probably piece it together, but as it stood now, I couldn't tell you to save my life.

As we waited for the crosswalk signal to change from the red hand it stood at, he stopped speaking, and it took me a second to realize he was looking at me expectantly. He raised his eyebrows, amusement evident across his face.

"Um, yeah, I agree with you." I guessed, and he shook his head as we began to walk through the crosswalk.

"Yeah? Can you give me an example?"

I clicked my tongue, pulling his hand out of his pocket to link my pinky with his.

"I mean- you know, like..." I swung our linked hands back and forth a bit, looking away from him as he began to laugh quietly.

"Mhm, I'm glad you agree you never pay attention to what I'm saying when I'm dressed up." He raised our linked hands, kissing my knuckles while turning the corner towards the restaurant we had been going to for every date night we had, named simply, Aurora's.

"You are so full of it, Gerard, and you're not even dressed up, you're wearing a sweater." I said, affectionately, smiling at him and bumping his side as he chuckled at me. He stopped to defend himself.

"Hey, that's not true, I brushed my hair."

"No, I brushed your hair, and I had to convince you to let me do it. You don't get those fancy guy points, baby." I teased, separating my hands to run a hand through the hair by the nape of his neck, only to make sure it was still relatively knot-free.

"Okay, well, wearing a sweater is dressed up." He threw a hand up defensively.

"For us it is." I agreed, pushing one of the glass doors to the restaurant open so we could walk through and let the woman behind the front desk know we had a reservation for the night.