Chase is feeling a little righteously angry tonight. Maybe that’s why he’s perched on this balcony, trying his damn hardest to find the others and get the hell out of here. This is the last bit of his old life. It was hollow, and he was about to jump into something that mattered. He’s looking for all of them, he swears he is, and he’s following Alex’s plan to the letter, staying highly visible. But he’s pissed off, fidgety, and then Gert walks in. She knocks the wind out of him, literally, because he leans against the railing a little too hard to get a better look and ends up slightly breathless. He tries to look cool, walking down the stairs toward her. He almost trips.
Gert sidles up next to him, looking like she fell out of an ad campaign for a store he is not cool enough to go to. Suddenly, it seems his stupid mouth is desperate to share every thought in his head. He fumbles through a comment on how stupid high school is. It's supposed to be lighthearted, to establish a common thread of conversation. As usual, Gert pulls the rug from under his feet. She is serious, and sad. Chase feels guilty. More than that, Chase feels sick that he did that. Gert shines so bright, but it’s not the same as she once was. His hackles are up, and he’s trying to joke.
“I never thought that. I might have said it, often, and loudly, but it was an act. Because I felt ignored.” Fuck. Motherfucker, Jesus Christ. She didn’t hate him. She didn’t hate him and she didn’t think he was worthless and stupid and a jockstrap with biceps for brains. He was floating. He was pissed at himself but he was floating.
And then, like the sucker punch to the gut she always was, Eiffel saunters into view, Brandon clinging to her like a bad smell. He smirks, and Chase remembers that he even exists for the first time in days that have felt like years. Brandon clearly thinks he has won something, but Chase has never felt more like a winner, even with the whole murderous parents thing. His life is back, his friends, his sense of purpose. Gert appears to side with Brandon on the topic of Chase’s pride, however. She winces a little and starts to comment. “It looks like my invisibility is contagious. And that Brandon stole your life.” Chase has never cared less about that life.
“He can have it. That life was bullshit. As messed up as things are right now, at least we know the truth. Who our friends are, who our parents are. It may suck, but its real.” He feels like the world just came down off his shoulders. He feels a sense of something bigger than the self-contained high school world he’s standing in, for the first time in years.
Gert leans toward him, breaking the sharp tension with a smirk. “I think the boy just became a man.” Chase takes it as his personal highest achievement that he doesn’t melt right then and there. He feels like he is, and prays to God or whatever it is Karolina believes in exactly that he isn’t blushing too visibly, even if his body temp just jumped 10 degrees. There is a part of him still rooted in the reality of his life now, though, and he wants to know if she feels it too. How much older he feels, how much older the world feels.
“About time, I guess, since tonight might be our last night on earth.” Why did he say that? Had to ruin a perfectly good moment, didn’t he? She looks way more on edge now, of course she does, he brought up their imminent fucking death at this glorified mating ritual. (He asked Gert to the 7th grade dance and that’s what she called it. They stayed at the Yorkes’ and watched The Princess Bride for the first time instead.) Her face has shifted, hardened a little. Chase feels sick.
“Well, if that’s how it is I’d like one last dance.” What? She’s up to something, and he can’t get a read on it. She yanks him a little and he loses focus for a moment.
When he settles his brain, he sets to work trying to process the eyes she is giving him and the stairs she is dragging him up. Her hand is so sure in his, guiding him into this little room and he is laughing at nothing. In the next definable moment her hands are on his shoulders, then twined in his hair, playing with the short hair at the base of his neck. He wonders if it’s normal for that motion to send him reeling, for her against him to feel like an axis shift. She’s so hot, in this dress that can barely be called that, in this robe. It has a tie, for Chrissake, she must be actively trying to kill him. He’s full of truth tonight, it seems, so out it slips, his best kept secret.
“I always saw you.”
“I know.” She melts against him, until she doesn’t. She pulls away, and for a moment he is terrified the bubble had been burst, that she would laugh or yell or punch him, but then he saw her eyes, bright and shining, and he knows. They’re kissing now, and fuck if he can focus on anything with this much Gert around him. He doesn’t know when the clothing removal happened, but he doesn’t care, running his hands over Gert, hot skin and that barely there slip.
He is trying to toe off a shoe when he falls flat on his ass, and for a second time he thinks he wrecked this, but then after the laughing subsides Gert is there, on top of him in the Tanenbaum alter, in a dress with the straps off and the smooth fabric bunched up around her waist and goddamn, does this girl know how to kiss him. She kisses the way she did everything, brash and tinged with uncertainty. She is almost letting him lead, in the sense that she is completely in control and he is already so gone for this girl. He is shirtless, belt undone, gelled hair completely ravaged and he has never cared less. Because Gert is above him, on him, and not so much grinding down as circling, light and teasing, almost like their conversations, circling like birds and never quite getting to the point, but Chase will be damned if he lets her slip past him this time, he has her (right there and so fucking hot) and nothing could kill this boner, the one he’s had since he first started getting them, or this tight ache, sharp in his chest, that has lived there since before the boners. He is in awe of this girl, and he reaches up to brush against her breast (boob, he thinks involuntarily, how often has he thought about Gert’s boobs?) rolls her nipple in an embarrassingly reverent way and she -fuck- she moans, and her voice breaks a touch, and all bets are off. He pushes his torso off the ground and does that thing you only see in cheesy romantic movies, and wraps his hands around her waist so they are skin to skin. Those movies don’t tell you that grinding in that position feels like seeing God, that his vision might white out when they’re pressed together like this, so much fucking skin.
It occurs to him like a flash, now that he’s holding her, (pseudo fucking through three, no, his hands go to her hips and he is reminded in a flash its two layers, he came overdressed just by wearing underwear, holy shit) to ask Gert what she wants from this. He tears himself away from her neck, the spot just under her ear he was coming to love, puts a hand, tentatively, bent awkwardly, over her clit and asks, “Gert baby, is this okay? I need to know what you want babe, fuck.” and he remembers her saying that ‘consent is sexy’, remembers vividly the bright pink tee shirt with that exact saying, the implications of the word sexy on Gert. He didn’t expect it so literally, to be able to swear he could see her eyes dilate as she grinded down onto his hand.
“That, Chase Stein, is the hottest thing to ever come out of your mouth. You unfairly perfect man. Chase, fuck, Chase I want you-- . Actually, screw that. Chase, I need you to fuck me.”
Holy- yes. Okay, this is a thing Chase can do, big time. He moans, loud in this room, and reaches for his suit jacket, one-handed, and fishes his wallet out and digs through it for the condom in a feat of frankly heroic coordination. He has a moment, where Gert is mouthing hot over his neck, to consider his next move. He wants something more, and more immediately, than actual fucking. He slips Gert off his lap, to a whine of displeasure, and rolls his jacket up to almost a pillow shape. He puts it behind Gert’s head and lowers her to the ground, gently, the way she should always be treated, and pushes his hands on her thighs, feeling the exact moment she realizes why his head is down there, and not kissing her. She goes a little weak, legs falling open, and Chase takes a moment to drink her in, this rare moment of total trust, before remembering the task at hand, er, mouth.
“Still okay?” is met with a breathless affirmative, so he kind of just, goes for it. Long, broad strokes, reveling in the way she shudders, then poking gently inside, fucking her with his tongue and trying to commit her reactions to memory the way he had with her (spearmint and artificial cherry) mouth. Her hands, hot and small and strong, are in his hair and she pulls, the first time he circles her clit, and he moans around it, and she pulls tighter. He slips a finger into her and she feels so wet, he feels pride wash over him that he did that, that she wanted him. He comes up to make a polite request. “Gert, talk to me. Tell me what to do.” it is all he has ever wanted, for Gert to lay life out for him and hand it over, a neat little package.
“Fuck Chase, keep doing that thing with your tongue, but up a little higher, yeah, right there. Can you, Chase can you -- fingers, Chase move your fingers, please, I need to feel you.” Chase complies, ever obedient and eager to please, curling and sucking and Gert kept talking. It wasn’t instructions now, seemingly just an opened floodgate of impossible dirty talk, and it was (too much) enough for Chase to reach down and grind on his unoccupied hand to relieve his staggeringly hard dick. “You have no idea how hard you made calc for me, coming in after gym all hot and endorphiny, smiling and stretching so your tee shirt rode up, no teenager should have that defined of anything. I used to picture you finally thinking I looked good one day, deciding you wanted me so bad you told me so, in front of all your stupid lacrosse friends. You’d clear the room and fuck me on a lab table. Picking me up and fucking me against a wall, when you first got all buff. I had dreams of showing up to one of your fucking parties and dragging you away to prove a point, your hands in my hair in some scummy bathroom-- Chase we’re running out of time and if you don’t fuck me I am going to be so pissed, I swear to God.”
Chase is still trying to process the first fantasy on that list as he fumbles for the condom. He moves up Gert’s body and she takes the condom from him, and she is fumbling with his zipper, and she is putting the condom on him (clever hands), good god, he thinks he could die here. Gert is waiting, though, and he has a brilliant idea. He adjusts them, pulling her into his lap again, and whispers “I’m gonna pick you up, okay?” She nods into his neck, and wraps her legs around his waist. He lays her on the table behind them, and it’s not quite a lab table, but he’s working with what he’s got here. She nods, at his inquisitive peering look, and he slides into her, into Gert, and if that doesn’t make it softer and tighter and wetter on principle. He’s rocking slowly but not for long, getting a little frantic, and Gert has two fingers on her clit when he decides to play the tit for tat game and opens his mouth.
“Your hair was the hottest thing I had ever seen. I could not figure out what was making me so messed up the day I first saw it until I was alone and all that would come were thoughts about my hands in that godforsaken hair. I wanted to know if you’d let me put my hands in it when I kissed you, if pulling it would make you moan. Used to think about pulling you into a broom closet and making you miss class, turning you into a delinquent with me. Fucking in the backseat of that car, I always thought we could make it squeak so loud everyone would know, that you were in there getting taken care of and you were mine. Do you know how bad I wanted you to be mine, baby, Jesus.”
“Chase.” she is staring with such intensity. “Say my name.”
“Gert. I wanted you, Gert, Gertrude, Gertrude fucking Yorkes, used to write Mr. Gert Yorkes in all my notebooks, Gert, baby, I want you to cum for me.” and she did, like for once in her life she was waiting for him to catch up, and how can Chase hear his name on her lips, bruised red and beautiful, feel her clench around him, for him, and not follow her, just as hers is riding out, stutter into her and say her name one last time.
Chase can see the moment they both realize they might be late to saving the world, and if anything kills the mood it’s thinking about his murderous parents, so suddenly the moment is broken, and their wasted half hour (that makes them 10 minutes late, Alex had suggested 20), feels like a dogear on a book, something they have to deal with later, by the look Gert gives him after the last, lingering kiss, buttoning up his jacket, the one where he finally truly gets his hands in her hair. (he feels a spark of pride when Nico and Karolina see them, late and disheveled, because he did that) he feels the world of permanence opening up before them, so he is taken aback by Gert’s offense in the site. (Should he have left out the weird possessive stuff? He thinks maybe it was unfeminist or insensitive, he knows she’s not property. Fuck, he wishes he had gotten the chance to join her club and learn about all of this.)
But it’s all okay. Everything cannot go wrong at once, so he’ll work his way down the immediate threat list. He’ll talk to her when this is done, after the mission, he’ll call her or they’ll get coffee, or if this all goes to shit he’ll just ask the dinosaur to scare everyone else away, and he’ll ask her how “I’ve wanted you” and “Mr. Gert Yorkes” can be the markers of a one-time thing, baby. He’ll explain everything, not using his dick this time. After this, it’ll all calm down. And then their parents show up.