Bert liked Gerard the most when he smelled like death, when he was winded and wide-eyed, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead, breath reeking of whiskey. Bert liked Gerard most when he'd just stepped off stage, when he was still the guy who'd scream and spit and grab his crotch, before he had a chance to change back unto the guy who'd check on Mikey and chat with fans and bug Bert to make a D&D character, even though Bert had no idea what the fuck that meant.

So after he performed the opening set, Bert grabbed Gerard by his stupid, wrinkled tie and led him into the woman's bathroom backstage. After a quick check of the room's single stall, Bert locked the door, pushed Gerard against the wall, and kissed him hard.

Gerard was too keyed up to hesitate, to double-check the lock, to whine about how they could get caught, to remember that Bert had to be on stage in about ten minutes. His skin was humming under Bert's fingertips, his entire body responding to the slightest touch. Usually, when Bert looked at Gerard, he could see the wheels turning in his head. Even drunk or high, Gerard was eternally distracted by books, art, music, lyrics, saving lives and other ridiculous bullshit. The only times his mind was quiet were post-performance, and post-orgasm.

Bert undid Gerard's belt and shoved his hand down the front of his pants. Gerard gasped as Bert licked up the curve of his neck and sucked on his ear. "Tell me when you're close."

"What?" Gerard whispered.

Bert smothered a smile against Gerard's neck. He couldn't believe this guy was older than Branden. "When you're gonna come."

"Oh," Gerard said, then, "Bert..."

Bert's hand finally managed to navigate past Gerard's underwear and wrap around his dick. He growled, "Stop thinking," against Gerard's lips.

"Fuck," Gerard gasped out, his body sliding a couple of inches down the gray-painted walls, weak after just a few strokes.

Bert worked his hand faster, until he felt Gerard's thighs trembling, and then he pulled back his face, grabbed Gerard's tie above the knot, and twisted it.

Gerard's eyes opened wide, locking with Bert's as he struggled to draw in a breath. After just a few seconds Bert let go. Gerard leaned his head back and breathed deeply.

Bert moved his body flush against Gerard's, slowed the motion of his hand, and waited to see if Gerard would object. Bert wasn't going to say anything. He wasn't going to ask permission.

Gerard lowered his head, met Bert's eyes, and just stared for a long moment. Then he touched Bert's forearm, his hand sticky hot, and whispered, "Faster".

Bert sped up his strokes and went back to kissing Gerard. He grabbed his hair with his free hand and felt a rush of possessiveness, knowing that he had Gerard by the head, lips, and dick.

Gerard moved his head back just slightly, breaking the kiss. Bert released his hair, grabbed his tie, and twisted it tight again. He kept moving his hand, stroking hard and fast, even as Gerard's whole body shuddered.

When Bert let go, Gerard pushed his body against Bert's even more, practically crushing Bert's arm between them, and pressed his forehead to Bert's shoulder as he struggled to breathe normally. Bert rubbed his thumb on the head of Gerard's dick, and Gerard moaned softly in approval.

"Bert," Gerard said, his voice muffled against Bert's shoulder. His breathing stuttered. "Now," he said. "Now, now –"

Bert grabbed the top of Gerard's tie and twisted it fast and hard, wrapping it around his entire hand. He could feel the inner workings of Gerard's throat, tendons and muscles twitching against his knuckles, a delicate, ridged airway collapsing under his grip.

Gerard tensed, came, and fainted all at once, and though Bert tried to hold him up, it took a split second too long for him to untangle his hand from the tie. Bert collapsed on top of him, his hand connecting with the floor just in time to prevent both of them from smashing their heads on the tile. He rolled to the side, pulled his hand out of Gerard's pants, wiped it on his own shirt, and looked up to see Gerard's eyes slowly opening.

Gerard looked over at him, blinked once, and then smiled impossibly wide and leaned forward to kiss Bert. He brushed their lips together, rubbed his nose against Bert's cheek, and moved like he was breathing in the scent of Bert's skin. "You're fucking crazy," he said.

Bert tilted his head up to kiss back. "Thanks."

Gerard put his hand against Bert's cheek, twirled a lock of hair around his middle finger, and kissed Bert long and slow. Bert closed his eyes and wondered how long normal people waited before saying 'I love you'.

"Hey." Bert pulled his head back. Gerard's eyes were cloudy and his smile was crooked, stupid-beautiful from his orgasm. "I have to go," Bert continued. "Our set. They're probably waiting for me."

Gerard pushed himself up slowly. "I'll come by your bus later?"

Bert got up into a crouching position and hopped to his feet. "Yeah, come by."

Gerard nodded in response, and they stood facing each other for a moment in silence, as if unsure whether to kiss again.

Bert reached out and touched the bottom of Gerard's filthy dress shirt, then wrapped his fingers in the fabric. "Later," he said. "When we're not in a women's bathroom after I just almost choked you to death." He took a step closer and lowered his voice. "Later remind me to tell you something."

Gerard smiled. "Okay."

Bert released his shirt, unlocked the door, and walked out. It was only a few seconds before someone saw him and shouted to Brian. He ignored both of them and jogged toward the stage. He hadn't gotten off, but it was cool; it would give him more urgency and make for a better show.

He heard Quinn before he saw him, and rushed up to them grinning. Brenden gave him a dirty look and handed him a mic. He let them go ahead of him, them switched on the mic as he followed. "Tell me, Detroit!" he shouted. "Tell me when you're close, motherfuckers!" His voice rose to a shrill scream, and the music started.