Trampoline Cigarettes
Title: Trampoline Cigarettes [standalone]
Author:
yeyaness
Pairing: Quert [Quinn Allman/Bert McCracken]
POV: Third, limited omniscient.
Rating: PG
Wordcount: ~900
Summary: "Close your eyes. I want to try something."
"Close your eyes. I want to try something," said Quinn, sliding his hands over the blue of Bert. The trampoline was both cold and damp under their dirty cargo shorts, and the late summer night smelled like stale cigarettes and butane lighters. Mosquitos flew around them, slender noses leaving pricks of blood on their sunset-tinged skin. Bert kind of liked the feeling of Quinn's palms, cool from the kneaded trampoline, over his lids. If anyone else were blinding him like this, he'd probably feed them a knuckle sammich, but hey. This was Quinn. He trusted Quinn more than anything else on the face of the planet.
Then Quinn kissed him. Bert jumped and the trampoline shook from the shift, but Quinn paid that no attention and kept his lips tight against Bert's. It was kind of strange, the way his best friend felt in this new way. The entire idea was kind of unexpected in an expectant way because Bert was smart enough to know this was coming, yet... It seemed like a surprise that Quinn did it right there, on their trampoline, a forgotten cigarette forging a hole that burned rubber over near the south end. It wasn't... bad. Just. Well. Bert didn't know what to think of it really. It wasn't bad, but strange. Was strange bad? Bert didn't know what to think of this, so he kept kissing Quinn, even though it was strange in a not-bad way.
Quinn pulled away a minute after Bert opened his mouth. For a second, there was this gleam in his eye. This triumphant little sparkle that was soon replaced by this bitten-lip contemplative stare. He said, in a voice like he wasn't so sure himself what had just happened, "Yeah. I just really wanted to try that."
Bert just nodded because, okay, yeah, he liked to try new stuff too. Granted, the new things he tried usually consisted of fried squid or pineapple on his pizza, but. He didn't know. He guessed you had to try everything once, right? Otherwise there'd be all these what-ifs floating around like jelly fish in the space usually used for thinking.
And then there was this silence that neither of them knew what to do with. It wasn't awkward— it was hard to be awkward around one another— but it definitely lacked the relaxed feeling they'd been lulling in. Bert was still on his back, lips continually parted from when Quinn's had been there. They felt different, he realized. Tingly. Were kisses supposed to be tingly? And how about warm? Just a second ago he'd been cold, shivering like his body were made of earthquakes and text message notices, but now there was this heat driving down his insides like a trucker on a lonely highway. With this realization, Bert noticed he still had his eyes closed, although Quinn's hands were back on their respective person. Somehow, the two were tied together. Bert's eyes couldn't open if Quinn added weight.
Quinn. He watched Bert from his heels, back curved in this posture that would make his mom scream. He fidgeted slightly and the trampoline bounced under him. Was Bert going to respond or was he going to just lie there, breath like cigarette fog. Quinn thought, oh shit, he was going to have to make a time travel machine to take back that stupid, stupid move. Idiot, Allman. Pure idiocy.
But Bert reached out and placed his palm on Quinn's folded leg, and although he said nothing, the blonde understood that to mean, okay, you're trying something new. I like new. So he leaned down again and kissed his best friend one more time, and that time it was a little different. There was more certainty in that caress, but confusion and tentativeness still lined the inside of their mouths along with the usual nicotine coating. Quinn poked his tongue against Bert's, trying to unhinge that taste of inconclusiveness to no avail. He pulled away again and looked at Bert glistening. The sun had nestled down for the night, and a faintly purple sheen settled against the boys. Their breath came out in tea-kettle mists, like blowing smoke on Bert's roof around three am all summer.
"Is this okay?" Quinn asked, more to only thaw the frozen silence than sincere curiosity. Bert still didn't say anything, just nodded, and he knew that maybe he was being a bit of bitch for his sudden mime impersonation, but that was alright. If anything, he could just blame Quinn for stealing his ability to speak with those kisses. He opened his blue eyes wide and stared straight up at the royal-colored sky, streaked with the grey of clouds and dotted with spheres of twinkling light.
"Bert? It's kind of cold. I think I'm going to go inside," and the trampoline shook with Quinn's movements. He was almost off when Bert grabbed his hand and pulled his down to the center, where their combined weight made one large dip towards the dewy grass. After a deep inhalation, Bert touched his mouth to Quinn's and held him close.
It was strange. Neither boy knew how to respond. But it wasn't bad. It was strange in a not-bad way. But under the darkening sky, and cold nipping at them, the last days of summer thinning out before them, it was okay.
Author:
yeyanessPairing: Quert [Quinn Allman/Bert McCracken]
POV: Third, limited omniscient.
Rating: PG
Wordcount: ~900
Summary: "Close your eyes. I want to try something."
"Close your eyes. I want to try something," said Quinn, sliding his hands over the blue of Bert. The trampoline was both cold and damp under their dirty cargo shorts, and the late summer night smelled like stale cigarettes and butane lighters. Mosquitos flew around them, slender noses leaving pricks of blood on their sunset-tinged skin. Bert kind of liked the feeling of Quinn's palms, cool from the kneaded trampoline, over his lids. If anyone else were blinding him like this, he'd probably feed them a knuckle sammich, but hey. This was Quinn. He trusted Quinn more than anything else on the face of the planet.
Then Quinn kissed him. Bert jumped and the trampoline shook from the shift, but Quinn paid that no attention and kept his lips tight against Bert's. It was kind of strange, the way his best friend felt in this new way. The entire idea was kind of unexpected in an expectant way because Bert was smart enough to know this was coming, yet... It seemed like a surprise that Quinn did it right there, on their trampoline, a forgotten cigarette forging a hole that burned rubber over near the south end. It wasn't... bad. Just. Well. Bert didn't know what to think of it really. It wasn't bad, but strange. Was strange bad? Bert didn't know what to think of this, so he kept kissing Quinn, even though it was strange in a not-bad way.
Quinn pulled away a minute after Bert opened his mouth. For a second, there was this gleam in his eye. This triumphant little sparkle that was soon replaced by this bitten-lip contemplative stare. He said, in a voice like he wasn't so sure himself what had just happened, "Yeah. I just really wanted to try that."
Bert just nodded because, okay, yeah, he liked to try new stuff too. Granted, the new things he tried usually consisted of fried squid or pineapple on his pizza, but. He didn't know. He guessed you had to try everything once, right? Otherwise there'd be all these what-ifs floating around like jelly fish in the space usually used for thinking.
And then there was this silence that neither of them knew what to do with. It wasn't awkward— it was hard to be awkward around one another— but it definitely lacked the relaxed feeling they'd been lulling in. Bert was still on his back, lips continually parted from when Quinn's had been there. They felt different, he realized. Tingly. Were kisses supposed to be tingly? And how about warm? Just a second ago he'd been cold, shivering like his body were made of earthquakes and text message notices, but now there was this heat driving down his insides like a trucker on a lonely highway. With this realization, Bert noticed he still had his eyes closed, although Quinn's hands were back on their respective person. Somehow, the two were tied together. Bert's eyes couldn't open if Quinn added weight.
Quinn. He watched Bert from his heels, back curved in this posture that would make his mom scream. He fidgeted slightly and the trampoline bounced under him. Was Bert going to respond or was he going to just lie there, breath like cigarette fog. Quinn thought, oh shit, he was going to have to make a time travel machine to take back that stupid, stupid move. Idiot, Allman. Pure idiocy.
But Bert reached out and placed his palm on Quinn's folded leg, and although he said nothing, the blonde understood that to mean, okay, you're trying something new. I like new. So he leaned down again and kissed his best friend one more time, and that time it was a little different. There was more certainty in that caress, but confusion and tentativeness still lined the inside of their mouths along with the usual nicotine coating. Quinn poked his tongue against Bert's, trying to unhinge that taste of inconclusiveness to no avail. He pulled away again and looked at Bert glistening. The sun had nestled down for the night, and a faintly purple sheen settled against the boys. Their breath came out in tea-kettle mists, like blowing smoke on Bert's roof around three am all summer.
"Is this okay?" Quinn asked, more to only thaw the frozen silence than sincere curiosity. Bert still didn't say anything, just nodded, and he knew that maybe he was being a bit of bitch for his sudden mime impersonation, but that was alright. If anything, he could just blame Quinn for stealing his ability to speak with those kisses. He opened his blue eyes wide and stared straight up at the royal-colored sky, streaked with the grey of clouds and dotted with spheres of twinkling light.
"Bert? It's kind of cold. I think I'm going to go inside," and the trampoline shook with Quinn's movements. He was almost off when Bert grabbed his hand and pulled his down to the center, where their combined weight made one large dip towards the dewy grass. After a deep inhalation, Bert touched his mouth to Quinn's and held him close.
It was strange. Neither boy knew how to respond. But it wasn't bad. It was strange in a not-bad way. But under the darkening sky, and cold nipping at them, the last days of summer thinning out before them, it was okay.