As the bus headed into St. Louis, Bert put down Quinn's apple bong, walked from the back lounge to the front hall where Brian was on the phone with his girlfriend, and yelled, "I need to room with Gerard!"

"Hold on a second." Brian covered the bottom of the phone and looked up at Bert. "What?"

"St. Louis is an overnight," Bert explained. "And I need to share a hotel room with Gerard." He fished a bent cigarette out of the pack in his front pocket and placed it in his mouth. "I'm collaborating with him on a song."

"You're giving him handjobs behind the buses every night," Brian said flatly.

Bert lit his cigarette. "That too."

"The room arrangements are already made," Brian said.

Bert leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Please?"

Brian tried to wave him away, but Bert was fast, and managed to duck around his arm and get in a series of quick kisses.

"Please?" Kiss. "Please?" Kiss. "Please?" Kiss.

Bert found kissing men to be an effective and rewarding way to problem-solve. The men were either charmed by him and gave him whatever he wanted, or disgusting by him, and gave him whatever he wanted so he would stop kissing them. Brian caved after five kisses and one long, wet lick up the side of his face.

"Fine!" Brian wiped his cheek with his sleeve. "Fine, you can room with Gerard. Go away."

That night Bert spent about an hour doing shots in Quinn and Jeph's room, and when he got to his own room Gerard was already there, in the bathroom with the water running.

When the door slammed behind Bert, Gerard called out, "Ray? Do you have any shirts I could borrow? All mine smell bad for some reason."

Gerard walked out of the bathroom wearing pajama bottoms and a worn black t-shirt. He looked surprised when he saw Bert.

"I'm rooming with you?" Gerard asked.

Bert nodded.

"Then where's Ray sleeping?"

Bert took a few steps forward. "In the magical land of Who Gives A Fuck And Take Off Your Pants." He pushed Gerard back until he fell into a sitting position on the bed.

They'd only known each other for two weeks, and the tour had only been going on for five days, and already Bert and Gerard had shared three silly kisses for the cameras, two drunken make-out sessions, and four handjobs behind the buses. Bert thought it was about time he stopped flirting and got down to business.

Gerard gasped as Bert undid the drawstring on his pajama pants and pushed them to his ankles, revealing black boxer briefs with a big hole near the elastic band. Bert looked up and laughed at Gerard's shocked expression.

"What?" Gerard asked with an embarrassed smile.

"Your stupid fucking face," Bert said. "I love it."

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of Gerard's underwear and pulled it down.

"If..." Gerard began, his voice shaky. "If Ray ended up rooming with Matt, they'll probably kill each other."

Bert wrapped his hand around Gerard's cock and began slowly stroking it.

Gerard bit down on his lower lip and exhaled hard through his nose. "They haven't been getting along lately," he choked out. "And Mikey and Frank...The last time we were in a hotel, they froze each other's underwear." He closed his eyes. "They require adult supervision."

"Stop talking so much," Bert said, and he put his mouth over the head of Gerard's cock.

Gerard swallowed a moan, pressed his lips together, and squeezed his eyes shut. When Bert looked up at him he couldn't help but chuckle around the shaft of Gerard's dick. The first time he'd pulled him behind the tour bus and shoved his hand down his pants, Gerard had covered his face with his hands and come with a noise that sounded more like a hiccup than a moan of pleasure. He thought about explaining to Gerard that he didn't have to be embarrassed. They were friends. They were having a good time. Bert would do plenty embarrassing things during the tour, like drinking heavily and throwing up, flashing his ass on stage, getting in a slap-fight with Jeph over who ate the last bag of barbeque chips, and ejaculating on various parts of Gerard's body. So Gerard didn't need to get uncomfortable over a little handjob.

But then, the second time they hooked up, Bert was stoned out of his mind, and forgot most of his speech. As he struggled to undo Gerard's belt, he managed to say, "Look man, one day I'll probably throw up near you, so..." Then his hand wrapped around Gerard's cock, and Gerard let out a muffled, high-pitched, almost-frightened sound, grabbed one of Bert's shoulders tightly, and pressed his face against Bert's neck. And the thought that he was with someone five years older, who'd gone to college and had a real job, who covered himself with fake blood and licked his guitarist's chest on stage, and yet was still so soft and breakable and easily corrupted, kind of made Bert's dick hard.

As he worked Gerard's cock with his mouth and hand, Bert watched his face. Gerard kept his eyes closed tightly, grimaced, and took in sharp, uneven breaths. He was obviously trying to be quiet, but small, breathy noises kept escaping from the back of his throat. Bert took him deep and moved quickly, wanting to drag the moans out of him, wanting to torture him into giving up his inhibitions, wanting to hear him scream.

"No." Gerard's body bent forward, and he put his hands over his eyes. "Fuck." His thighs trembled and Bert swallowed and Gerard rolled onto his back, still covering his face and whispering, "Fuck fuck fuck."

Bert crawled up beside him on the bed and pulled one of the fingers off Gerard's face. "You all right under there?"

"Fuck, Bert," Gerard said softly. He moved his hands away, rolled onto his side, and stared at Bert with a slight smile on his face. "You're so..." He took a deep breath. "You're really good."

Bert grinned. "Yeah, it's cool I have a skill to fall back on if this music thing doesn't work out." He raised his eyebrows and nodded to the edge of the bed.

"What?" Gerard asked,

Bert nodded again.

"What?"

"I'm being subtle," Bert said.

"Stop being subtle," Gerard said.

"Suck my dick."

Gerard's eyes widened. "You want me to...?" He looked over to where Bert had been kneeling a moment before, and then looked down at the comforter. "I haven't really done that."

It was Bert's turn to looked shocked. "You've never sucked a dick before?"

Gerard shook his head.

"You?" Bert was trying so hard not to laugh out loud that he snorted. "Really?"

Gerard sighed, his embarrassment quickly replaced by exasperation. "Why do I always give off this Big Gay Slut vibe? I'm actually really shy, and I hardly ever date –"

"Didn't you go to art school?" Bert asked. "In New York?"

"Yes, and I studied art, not dick." Gerard glared at him, but Bert's smile was contagious, and he ended up just rolling his eyes. "God, even my mom was like, 'So have you met any nice boys in art school?' It was ridiculous. Like art is synonymous with anal - "

Bert leaned forward and kissed Gerard, cutting off his complaining. He cradled Gerard's head in his hand, tangling his fingers in his hair as he pulled him closer. When he broke from the kiss, he kept their faces close, and his lips brushed against Gerard's as he whispered, "Stop teasing me, you fucking whore."

Gerard smiled. "Bert, you're so romantic." He sat up and slid off the edge of the bed, sitting on his heels near Bert's legs. "Don't come in my mouth, okay?"

Bert sat up and undid his pants. "Yes, yes, I promise. Just come on already."

Gerard helped Bert remove his pants and underwear. "I'm gonna be bad at it."

"You're not gonna be bad at it," Bert assured him.

Gerard gave him a weak half-smile, put his hand on Bert's thigh and brought his mouth down to his cock.

He was really bad at it.

Gerard ran his tongue along the head in a way that seemed promising, until he pulled back abruptly and considered Bert's cock, as if he was about to start a conversation with it. Then he took it in his hand and squeezed experimentally. Finally he put his entire mouth on it, but didn't move at all, instead clicking his tongue a few times in a cadence that was reminiscent of a Misfits song. Eventually Gerard settled into a pattern of completely inadequate licking motions, interspersed with long periods of staring while poking at his balls.

"You know what would be cool?" Gerard asked.

"If you shut the fuck up and put your mouth back on my dick?"

"IHOP for breakfast. Mikey's like, a thousand times happier when he has French toast."

Bert put his hand to his forehead. "Please stop talking."

Gerard leaned back down. His lips were soft and wet around the shaft of Bert's cock, and he pulled his mouth up to the head before plunging back as deep as he could. For a moment Bert thought the whole experience could be salvaged, but then Gerard withdrew with a soft slurping noise, sat back on his heels again, and said, "So did you ever see Re-Animator?"

"Jesus fucking Christ do you ever stop talking?" Bert yelled.

"All right, all right," Gerard said as he took the base of Bert's cock in his hand and brought his mouth down once again.

Bert tilted his head back so Gerard couldn't see the expression on his face. He didn't know how Gerard could be a musician and yet move his head up and down with no rhythm at all, much less how Gerard could be a guy and think that nibbling was a good idea. After a few minutes it was clear the whole thing was pointless. He looked at the newspaper on the nightstand and wondered if Gerard would mind if he started reading.

Then Bert looked down just as Gerard raised his eyes and looked up at him, and something in Bert's stomach turned to liquid. Gerard's eyes were huge and wet, milky white and muddy green, and then there was his eyelashes, his skin, his lips around Bert's cock, and his eyes, his huge fucking eyes.

Bert let out a long moan and reached down, his hands scrambling at Gerard's shoulders, pushing him off just as Bert came hard and hot against the bottom of Gerard's cheek. He closed his eyes and took his dick into his hand, riding out the rest of his orgasm, and gripped the edge of the bed with his other hand until his breathing returned to normal.

When he opened his eyes Gerard was staring at him expectantly, as if there was going to be an evaluation. Bert reached out and wiped the semen off his cheek with the side of his hand. Gerard smiled, stood up, and went to the other side of the bed where his duffel bag was open and spilling dirty clothes all around it.

"Was that good?" He asked.

Bert took his shirt off and threw it on the floor. "Came on your face, didn't I?"

Gerard laughed and bent over his duffel bag. He reached inside, took out a DVD, and put it in the built-in player at the base of the hotel television.

Bert stretched out on the bed, suddenly exhausted. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them Gerard was lying beside him and handing him a lit cigarette. Bert took a drag, passed it back, then settled onto his side and watched Gerard in the flickering light of the DVD menu.

"If you like it," Gerard said as he exhaled smoke through his nose. "I also have Bride of the Re-Animator." He looked over at Bert and raised his eyebrows at the sight of his unwavering stare. "What?"

They'd only known each other for two weeks, and the tour had only been going on for five days, and already Bert felt something warm behind his eyes, like a hangover but without the pain, like being drunk but without the vomiting. And he thought about how he was a guy who'd dropped out of high school and lived in a garage, who'd been treated for alcohol poisoning and hit rock bottom before he turned eighteen, and yet there was still something soft and breakable about him, something perfect and beautiful in the cracks of his soul that Gerard's bright eyes had managed to find.

"What?" Gerard repeated.

"I love your stupid fucking face," Bert said softly.

Gerard smiled, turned back to the television, and held up the remote. "Are you ready?" he said, and he pushed Play.