Requested on Tumblr
Reader: female
Word count: 1 332
"Have you ever heard of this really cool invention they call shampoo," you asked, raising your eyebrows at Gerard's more than greasy hair.
He was about to snap a comment about how you should care about your own shit, but then he saw it was you, and instead his face lit up with an embarrassed smile.
"Sorry," he mumbled, pulling the sleeves of his black button up shirt over his hands, trying to make sweater paws, but the fabric was not elastic enough.
"I don't mind, not really," you laughed, and ruffled through his hair, trying to fight the overwhelming sensation of pulling his head to your level and kiss him hard. But you were still in the stairwell up to your family's flat, and you did not want anybody to spy on the two of you since your relationship was still a well-kept secret.
Gerard rearranged his hair after your attack on the black locks, as if they had been styled before, and smiled gently down at you, his cheeks tinted slightly pink. You loved it when you made him blush, which was honestly quiet easy.
"So, I assume you found the key," you asked, continuing to climb up the stairs, Gerard at your side.
"They were under the third flowerpot to the left, just like you said," he agreed, handing you back the small piece of metal.
You had thought you would have choir that afternoon, but the conductor was ill so you were able to go home early. But since you had not known that, you had placed a key for Gerard to find so he could go to your room, and wait for you there. It was a regular occurrence that you waited at each other's homes, but your mother was on a business trip, so there would have been no one to let him inside.
When you finally reached the top of the stairs you unlocked the door to the flat and let Gerard enter. The fact that there was no leather jacket messily thrown on the floor in the hallway signaled you that your twin-brother Frank was not home yet.
"So about that hair of yours," you turned around to Gerard after having taken off your shoes.
"You want to wash it, don't you," he asked, rolling his eyes, but smiling.
"Definitely," you agreed.
You took him by the hand, and led him to the small bathroom, locking the door. While you folded the bathmat so Gerard could kneel comfortably in front of the tub, he took off his shirt and the red tie he had been wearing with it.
"Do you want apple or ahm... mountain race, whatever that is, shampoo," you asked, having pulled yours and Frank's shampoo bottles from the shelf next to the sink.
"I will not, I repeat, not use Frank's shampoo," Gerard protested, somehow feeling uneasy at the thought of smelling like your brother while kissing you.
"Apple it is," you laughed, and wandered over to the tub, placing the shampoo bottle on the floor and turning on the water.
Patiently you waited until warm water was flowing, and carefully set a comfortable temperature, which you asked Gerard to confirm. He had knelt down on the bathmat, bending over the edge of the tub so his hair was hanging down the sides of his face like a black curtain. You let the water stream over the back of his head, holding the showerhead with one hand, using the other to comb through his locks. When you thought his hair was wet enough, you squeezed some of the faintly green shampoo into the palm of your hand, and spread it in his hair. The soft fragrance of apple started to fill the room while you massaged Gerard's head carefully, making him hum every other moment.
You had to shampoo his hair two more times until it was finally clean, but you did not mind at all. Gerard did not seem to mind either. You had sat down on the edge of the bathtub, and Gerard rested one of his hands on your thigh, drawing small patterns, and drumming rhythms against the fabric of your jeans.
When you had rinsed out the last bubbles of shampoo, you asked "Do you want conditioner? But it's with magnolia, not apple."
"What's conditioner," Gerard asked, turning his head trying to look at you, his black hair falling wetly into his face.
You stood up and grabbed the bottle from the shelf.
"You'll see."
~*~
"My hair is so soft, (y/n), you gotta feel that," Gerard excitedly exclaimed.
After you had treated his hair with the conditioner, rinsed everything out, and rubbed it dry, you were now lying on your bed, and Gerard was totally fascinated by his now properly clean hair.
"I know, sweetheart," you laughed but complied with his request anyway, running your hand through his still wet hair for the probably hundredth time.
"So soft," he mumbled, still fascinated, but his eyes were now fixed on yours.
You smiled up at him, having your chin resting on his chest, and felt your heartbeat quicken as he leant in, finally kissing you. It was crazy how nervous and excited you still got every time you kissed him, even though you had been together for almost a month now. But with the excitement also came a strange sensation of peace, like the world was finally in the right place, like you were fulfilling your destiny.
You wrapped your hands harder into Gerard's hair, pulling yourself closer towards him, deepening the kiss needy. You felt him smirk against your lips, but did not care, and kept kissing him. Feeling you so desperate about being close to him was his equivalent of him blushing because of you; he would never get enough of it.
You allowed Gerard the lead for a moment, allowing him to push his hands to the back of your neck, and hold you close, then you sat up, careful to never loose contact to his lips, and crawled into his lap. Much to your disappointment he had put his shirt back on, but he had left the two top buttons open, so you slipped your hand underneath the fabric and let your fingers wander along his soft, smooth skin, losing yourself in the sensation of having him so close to you, all for yourself.
In that moment the door to your room flung open, and your brother Frank came bouncing into the room.
"Hey (y/n), have you seen my trumpet? Hi Gerard."
You tore away from Gerard hastily, staring at Frank unbelievingly.
"Get out," you shouted, feeling the heat of embarrassment rising to your cheeks.
"But my trumpet..." Frank stood in the door like a lost puppy.
"Have you checked your bed? You always put things under your bed that don't belong there," you answered sourly, knowing that Frank would not let you and Gerard alone unless you at least pretended to help him.
"Good idea, thanks. Bye Gerard, have fun, but use condoms please, I'm not ready to be an uncle," Frank declared, running out of the room again, and pulling the door closed behind him.
"Is he really twenty- three," Gerard wondered, looking up at you as you sat in his lap, staring at the closed door.
"He's been here for as long as I can remember, so he has to be at least twenty-three," you told him, finally tearing you gaze away from the door and to your boyfriend on the bed again.
"Hard to believe," Gerard shook his head.
"I know," you agreed, slowly remembering what you had been doing before Frank had interrupted you. "You know what isn't hard to believe?"
"What," Gerard asked, his hazel eyes curiously staring up at you.
"That I love you," you answered, connecting your lips to his again.
He smiled into the kiss, making your heart race before he pulled away just long enough to whisper a quick "I love you too", and kissed you again.