Categories > Celebrities > The Used

Making Me Happy

by MikeyMemories 1 review

(Drug Use) Bert/Quinn slash. Quinn's been ready for while now.

Category: The Used - Rating: PG - Genres: Humor,Romance - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2010-08-28 - Updated: 2010-08-28 - 766 words - Complete

The room was filled with sweet-smelling smoke and dim light. Bert stared at Quinn thoughtfully, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth and passing it to his best friend. "My head feels like..." Bert waved his hands slowly, trying to make the shapes of his thoughts. "Like it's filled with And shiny things."
"Always shiny things," Quinn mused, drawing on the joint.
Bert nodded, his blinks slow and relaxed. "Yeah. And my stomach is filled with..." Bert tapped his flat stomach and licked his lips, "Caterpillars."
"Butterflies dude," Quinn corrected absently, handing the joint back to Bert. Bert shook his head and took it, staring at the red circles on the wall before taking a hit. "No they haven't developed yet. It's's like they ...are ready. But they've just haven't, yet. You know?"
Quinn nodded a few times, his eyes fixed on his window in apparent deep thought then he frowned and said "No."
"Ok. It's like when know when you get up in the morning and you're really hungry but you can't eat yet because your mouth isn't ready, and just won't work?"
Quinn nodded twice before shaking his head in confusion. "No. But. Go on. Your voice s'nice and ...gratey."
Bert shifted over to sit beside Quinn on the wide window seat. "Right. It's like that, when you can eat're not ready. I could do it. But I'm not ready."
"Why? What?" Quinn blinked, his head lolling onto Bert's slumped shoulder. Bert let the burnt spliff fall onto the floor and die. Quinn sniffed beside him. The air seemed thick and heavy. All Bert could hear were the slow, regular breaths of Quinn and his own heartbeat. "I don't know why, I'm just not ready to do anything about it."
Quinn yawned, pressing his legs against Bert's thighs and letting his eyes flutter shut and open, shut and open.
Bert moved his head to the side and looked at the top of Quinn's blonde hair. His brown roots were coming back in. Bert could see every tiny hair that quivered with his breath and could vaguely smell the apple shampoo under the foggy taste/smell of weed.
"I think..." Bert held his hand up and stared at his index fingernail "I might be in love. Do you think I might be in love?"
"If you have to ask, no. You're not," Quinn exhaled, his head moving under Bert's chin to lull against his chest. Bert moved to lay back a little more. "I was in love before. You know. When you are. Take me for example," Quinn twisted right around so his head was lying on Bert's knees, facing his feet and Quinn's legs were balancing on bed beside his seat. "I know when I'm in love. Like I'm in love with you. And I know it. And now you do too." Quinn said, yawning. Bert breathed evenly, close to falling asleep. "But I never loved anyone before," he said sleepily, "so how would I know? That's sad... isn't it? Isn't that sad?"
Quinn nodded slowly and Bert carded his fingers curiously through Quinn's blonde hair. "Why are you touching me?"
"Your head is on my lap," Bert reasoned. Quinn scrubbed at his nose and mouth. "Is it?"
Bert nodded and stroked Quinn's hair again. "Dirty," he informed him. Quinn just yawned again in reply. "Dirty hair," Bert repeated softly, closing his eyes. "I think I might be in love with you."

"No," Quinn replied.



"But why not?" Bert asked, his voice fading slowly. "I think I am."
"No you're not. Just...nope," Quinn said, stretching like a cat.
"But you...I think about you all the time," Bert explained. "And like... All the time. And sex stuff."
"What sex stuff?" Quinn asked sleepily, closing his eyes.
"Fantasies and things like that, you know." Bert said, sliding down the wall and laying on Quinn's bed, pushing his shoes off the smooth bedspread.
"Ok," Quinn said, holding out his hand and not opening his eyes.
Bert took it and placed it on the bed and Quinn rolled off the window seat to sprawl across the bed instead. "And the caterpillars are yours."
"I own your caterpillars?"
Bert nodded slowly, closing his own eyes and starting to drift off. Quinn lay facing him and yawned one final time. "You own my caterpillars too. 'Cept mine are butterflies."
"Yours are ready?" Bert curled up into the sheets.
"Mine are ready. For a while now," Quinn affirmed before dozing off.
"Ok," Bert murmured, falling to sleep himself.
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