Shine. ( Mikey/Pete and Frank/Gerard)
Jan. 16th, 2010 10:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsKeeping track of my stuff. This was written for the ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
no_tags challenge. Originally posted here
Title: Shine
Pairing/Prompt: Mikey/Pete and Frank/Gerard ( Prompt 36, costume party and bookstore)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2359
Warnings: N/A
Notes: Thank you tothemoononastick who was a star and did a fantastic beta ♥
The shop looks dark, the shutters already down when Frank approaches. He keeps his chin tucked against his chest and his breath is warm against the striped scarf that he’s got wrapped around his neck. His bag is heavy against his side and Frank’s feet sink into the snow with each step. Despite wearing two pairs of socks he can feel the cold seep into his toes.
Frank looks at his watch. Six oh five and people should already be setting up for the annual staff party. A sign-up sheet for those willing to help has been hanging in the break room for over a month now and Gerard’s name was first on the list. Frank’s name was second. It’s why he’s so early; and carrying his costume stuffed into a bag. By-passing the main entrance he heads around the back of the store to the service entrance, and finds Bob sitting on a crate they use as a make-shift bench. Bob takes a drag of his cigarette and Frank sees his fingers are covered in paint and glitter.
Slowly, Bob blows out a plume of smoke, says, “Frank.”
“Hey,” Frank says. He’s tempted to jump Bob and steal a drag, hoping nicotine will help soothe his nerves, but he takes note of the silver glints in Bob’s hair, the way that when he blinks his eye-lashes sparkle. Despite appearances to the contrary at times, Frank isn’t stupid. He’ll leave Bob alone – for now. He does point out the silver holly berry that’s tangled in Bob’s hair. “You’ve got…”
“I don’t care,” Bob says shortly, and takes another drag of his cigarette. “I don’t care if I look like the fucking glitter fairy has jizzed all over me. I’m going to sit here. Smoke my cigarette, and pretend inside isn’t happening.”
“Right.” Frank edges past Bob and heads indoors. Walking past the break-room he enters the main shop, and stops dead, almost blinded by the glare. Every surface is covered in things that shine and sparkle. The bookshelves have been covered in sheets painted with glitter. Silver stars hang from the ceiling, tiny white lights snaking between them while the floor is concealed by dry ice that billows from a machine positioned in what’s usually the children’s corner. Today it’s more like an ice-cave, one with Ray sitting in the middle, knees almost to his chest and his hair tucked into a wizard’s hat, his robe sleeves swinging as he points out the machine’s controls to Spencer, who’s dressed as the bottom half of a pink-spotted cow.
“Isn’t it awesome?”
Frank turns when he hears Gerard. Gerard’s not dressed in his costume yet either; he’s still in his work uniform that’s so covered in glitter Frank’s dubious it’ll ever wash out. Frank looks from Gerard to the front counter of the shop, which has been disguised with fake snow, a sparkling golden reindeer given pride of place next to the till. “It’s not what I expected.”
Gerard grins, his cheeks glinting with tiny sparkles. “I know, right? But when Pete suggested an ice world I thought we’d go all out.”
“It just doesn’t seem you,” Frank says slowly, but Gerard shakes his head and grabs hold of Frank’s hand.
“It’s still me, come see.” Together they head for the counter, and when they get closer Frank sees that the reindeer has a devil tail and fangs and hidden in the snow are red-eyed yetis, bloodied prey piled at their feet.
Impressed, Frank says, “It’s a were-deer,” and ends up grinning helplessly at Gerard, because this is so him. “The yetis are sweet.”
“We need more.” Gerard looks over his shoulder toward the biography section. “Mikey and Pete were making them.”
“I can make yetis,” Frank says, and feels ridiculously giddy when Gerard’s smile widens even further.
“Awesome, they’ve got all the supplies.” Craning his neck, Gerard peers at the ceiling. “I’m going to help Joe hang more stars.”
Gerard rests his hand against Frank’s arm before hurrying toward the ladders that are set up near the main entrance. Keeping his hand against his thigh – he’s not that far gone, that he’s going to touch his arm, even if that spot does feel warmer – Frank makes for Mikey and Pete, and pulls up short when he reaches the alcove. “Jesus fucking Christ. My eyes.”
“Hi, Frank,” Pete says with a grin. His teeth look white and shiny through the golden mane that flops onto his face and he clumsily pushes back the hair with a fuzzy paw. “Are you coming to make yetis?”
Pointedly, Frank turns so he’s staring at the sparkly vampire that’s been positioned on the Harlequin book display, its fangs positioned against a particularly buxom wench. “I’m going to count to ten. When I turn around you’re going to have your hand out from under Mikey’s skirt.”
There’s the sound of rustling and a soft thud as Frank slowly counts to ten. When he’s at one he turns, and sees that Pete’s zipped up his fur suit and Mikey’s perched himself on the edge of one of the display tables, his silver edged wings arranged neatly behind him and his artfully shredded taffeta skirt pulled primly to his knees.
“Gee want more yetis?” Mikey asks, fussing with his tiara until it sits straight in the mess of his hair.
“Yeah.” Still clutching his bag, Frank heads for the back of the alcove where half finished yetis litter the table. Then stops, unable to resist asking when he’s next to Mikey and Pete. “What the hell are you supposed to be?”
“I’m Aslan,” Pete says, and swipes his hand through the air with an accompanying, grrrr. “Mikey’s the Snow Queen.”
“The Snow Queen doesn’t have wings and wear fishnets,” Frank says, slowly looking Mikey from head to toe. “And Aslan didn’t wear spandex pants.”
Pete grins and lewdly swivels his hips. “He did in my book. You must have read the kiddies version.”
“Or you’re just fucking insane,” Frank says.
“He is insane,” Mikey says suddenly and pushes himself up, his boots thumping against the floor and his skirt rustling. Reaching out he grabs Pete’s tail and wraps it around his own wrist, then tugs, pulling Pete backwards. “Me and Pete need to check something out back.”
“Of course you do,” Frank mutters, but can’t help laughing when Mikey grins as he pulls Pete away. Dropping his bag into the swirling dry ice Frank examines the yetis, then looks up when he sees someone approach.
“Have they gone?” Patrick’s wearing a cowboy hat and leather chaps, also a frown as he peers around the side of the shelves. He adds, “I came by before and… Well let’s just say there are some things you shouldn’t see your best friend doing.”
“Tell me about it,” Frank says, and holds out his hand for a hand-slap of over-sexed best friend solidarity. “Who knew Aslan was anatomically correct?”
Patrick pushes up his hat with one finger, looking at Frank from under the brim. “You’re not in your costume.”
Frank gestures at the yetis. “I offered to help with these.”
“I can do that,” Patrick says, bumping Frank aside with his hip. “Go get dressed before the party starts in earnest.”
Smiling his thanks, Frank grabs his bag and heads for the staff room. Not that getting there is easy. He has to duck past Brendon as he clings onto the bookshelves with one hand while stringing lights with the other and barely avoids being hit in the face by a set of flying udders that have to come from Spencer’s costume.
Jon holds up the udders, looking apologetic. “Sorry. We’re modifying our cow.”
“We’re debating having an udder head or an udder ass,” Spencer says, sounding perfectly serious as he wanders over to join Jon.
“An udder ass,” Frank says. “Always.” Leaving them to that important decision he finally reaches the small break room, and finds that it’s crowded with people. The area around the mirror is especially crowded, Ryan fussing with his stripped pajamas as Vicky T adjusts her conical bra while Andy tugs at his loin cloth; not that it helps, the tiny scrap of leather barely covers much at all.
Spotting a free space in the corner, Frank unzips his bag and pulls out his costume, laying it out on the floor. A series of threats, bribes, and as a last resort, begging, means Frank’s costume is a match for Gerard’s. At least he hopes it is. As Frank eyes the skin-tight grey leggings he can’t help worrying this is Mikey’s idea of payback, which would be unfair. It’s not that Frank bugs him that much about Gerard.
Shoes kicked off and wiggling out of his pants, Frank starts to get dressed. It takes an embarrassingly long time to get the leggings comfortable and the bright green shorts are so snug it takes a while to stop them crushing his junk. Aware of being watched Frank affects nonchalance as he pulls on the red tunic, fastens his belt, and finally, puts on the cape.
“Looking good, Frankie,” Vicky says, her blond ponytail swinging as she repositions Ryan’s fox ears. “Old skool suits you.”
Frank leaps onto the ratty sofa and strikes a dramatic pose. “I’m off to save Gotham City!”
“Save the city and get your man.” Apparently satisfied with the ear placement, Vicky looks up at Frank and winks. “Go give him some pow, whap, bang.”
Frank drops his arms and jumps to the ground. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ryan turns, holding onto his glossy red tail. “Even I know what she’s talking about.”
Abruptly, Frank shuts his mouth. Ryan never knows the shop gossip, if he knows everyone knows. Resisting the urge to hide behind his cape Frank straightens his shoulders instead, heading back to the main shop floor, which unbelievably, seems to have achieved a new layer of glitter since he left.
“I’ve gone to hell.” Bob’s standing close to the door, camera in hand and his Viking helmet listing to one side. Suddenly, he takes a picture of Frank. “For blackmail purposes.”
“Bastard,” Frank says, and goes up on his tip-toes so he can look toward the front of the shop. “Have you seen Gerard?”
“He was in the stockroom last time I saw him, I think …” Bob trails off, grinning when he sees Ray’s hat knocked off by the udders. “Later.”
Normally Frank would be following, always up for an impromptu udder fight. Today he’s got another goal in mind -- namely, Gerard. Cape fluttering behind him he makes for the stock room and pushes open the door. “Gerard? Are you in there? I’m… oh for fuck’s sake.” Frank scrambles back and slams the door, the image of Mikey sitting on Pete’s lap, his skirt hitched up and legs wrapped around Pete’s waist, burnt onto his retinas. Scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hands he yells, “You can’t do that on top of the books!”
“It’s okay,” Pete yells back. “The fur is absorbing any fluids.”
Which is way more than Frank wanted to know. Backing away from the store room he glares at Bob, who’s standing on a chair, laughing hard as he holds up his camera. “Get an eyeful, Frank?”
“Scum sucking traitor,” Frank says, and flips Bob off before plunging back into the crowd, resuming his search for Gerard. It takes a while but eventually, through the mass of bodies and glittering surfaces, Frank sees someone wearing a black cowl and cape. Heart racing he gets close, enough so he can reach out and touch.
“Gerard?”
“Frank.” Gerard turns away from the buffet table, delighted when he sees what Frank’s wearing. “Frank Robin. You look great.”
“So do you,” Frank says, and takes in Gerard’s outfit, from his black boots to the tips of the cowl ears. “Very retro.”
“I know, right.” Gerard’s still smiling and he hooks his fingers under the utility belt that’s tight around his waist. “I was going to go more obscure but the store didn’t have any sea monster costumes, then Mikey saw this and said I’d get a side-kick this way. I thought he was hinting for him.”
“He’s too tall to be Robin,” Frank says. “And he doesn’t have the legs for it.”
“True, he looks better in fishnets,” Gerard says, his smile fading. “That’s if he still has them on. I went to the bathroom earlier and Pete was gnawing at them.”
Frank holds out his hand, he’s already scarred enough without taking on second-hand observations. “Pete is a very weird man. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Agreed.” Gerard nods and then looks down. “You have the legs for it.”
“Yeah?” Frank’s not above fishing for compliments and he flexes his arms. “I’d make an awesome side-kick.”
“You would,” Gerard agrees and reaches out, picking up a mini cupcake sprinkled with silver balls. “You want?
Frank shakes his head. “No. I want. I mean. What I want to say…” Frustrated, he scowls at the floor, needing to touch Gerard who’s just there.
“Use this for fuck’s sake.”
Frank’s not sure who shouted, or who threw the udders complete with tied on mistletoe. He doesn’t care, not when Gerard’s picking up the udders and holding them in the air, the mistletoe hanging down. “I think someone’s trying to tell us something.”
“You think?” Frank says, and takes a step forward, gasping a little when Gerard grabs hold and pulls him close. “You want this?”
“I want this,” Gerard says, and lowers his head for a kiss.
Fingers curled against Gerard’s back, Frank closes his eyes at the first touch. Gerard’s lips are gritty with glitter and when he deepens the kiss his mouth is warm, his tongue touching Frank’s before he finally pulls back.
“Happy New Year, Frank,” Gerard says softly, his breath warm against Frank’s ear. “I think this year is going to be great.”
Frank believes him.
no_tags challenge. Originally posted hereTitle: Shine
Pairing/Prompt: Mikey/Pete and Frank/Gerard ( Prompt 36, costume party and bookstore)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2359
Warnings: N/A
Notes: Thank you to
themoononastick who was a star and did a fantastic beta ♥The shop looks dark, the shutters already down when Frank approaches. He keeps his chin tucked against his chest and his breath is warm against the striped scarf that he’s got wrapped around his neck. His bag is heavy against his side and Frank’s feet sink into the snow with each step. Despite wearing two pairs of socks he can feel the cold seep into his toes.
Frank looks at his watch. Six oh five and people should already be setting up for the annual staff party. A sign-up sheet for those willing to help has been hanging in the break room for over a month now and Gerard’s name was first on the list. Frank’s name was second. It’s why he’s so early; and carrying his costume stuffed into a bag. By-passing the main entrance he heads around the back of the store to the service entrance, and finds Bob sitting on a crate they use as a make-shift bench. Bob takes a drag of his cigarette and Frank sees his fingers are covered in paint and glitter.
Slowly, Bob blows out a plume of smoke, says, “Frank.”
“Hey,” Frank says. He’s tempted to jump Bob and steal a drag, hoping nicotine will help soothe his nerves, but he takes note of the silver glints in Bob’s hair, the way that when he blinks his eye-lashes sparkle. Despite appearances to the contrary at times, Frank isn’t stupid. He’ll leave Bob alone – for now. He does point out the silver holly berry that’s tangled in Bob’s hair. “You’ve got…”
“I don’t care,” Bob says shortly, and takes another drag of his cigarette. “I don’t care if I look like the fucking glitter fairy has jizzed all over me. I’m going to sit here. Smoke my cigarette, and pretend inside isn’t happening.”
“Right.” Frank edges past Bob and heads indoors. Walking past the break-room he enters the main shop, and stops dead, almost blinded by the glare. Every surface is covered in things that shine and sparkle. The bookshelves have been covered in sheets painted with glitter. Silver stars hang from the ceiling, tiny white lights snaking between them while the floor is concealed by dry ice that billows from a machine positioned in what’s usually the children’s corner. Today it’s more like an ice-cave, one with Ray sitting in the middle, knees almost to his chest and his hair tucked into a wizard’s hat, his robe sleeves swinging as he points out the machine’s controls to Spencer, who’s dressed as the bottom half of a pink-spotted cow.
“Isn’t it awesome?”
Frank turns when he hears Gerard. Gerard’s not dressed in his costume yet either; he’s still in his work uniform that’s so covered in glitter Frank’s dubious it’ll ever wash out. Frank looks from Gerard to the front counter of the shop, which has been disguised with fake snow, a sparkling golden reindeer given pride of place next to the till. “It’s not what I expected.”
Gerard grins, his cheeks glinting with tiny sparkles. “I know, right? But when Pete suggested an ice world I thought we’d go all out.”
“It just doesn’t seem you,” Frank says slowly, but Gerard shakes his head and grabs hold of Frank’s hand.
“It’s still me, come see.” Together they head for the counter, and when they get closer Frank sees that the reindeer has a devil tail and fangs and hidden in the snow are red-eyed yetis, bloodied prey piled at their feet.
Impressed, Frank says, “It’s a were-deer,” and ends up grinning helplessly at Gerard, because this is so him. “The yetis are sweet.”
“We need more.” Gerard looks over his shoulder toward the biography section. “Mikey and Pete were making them.”
“I can make yetis,” Frank says, and feels ridiculously giddy when Gerard’s smile widens even further.
“Awesome, they’ve got all the supplies.” Craning his neck, Gerard peers at the ceiling. “I’m going to help Joe hang more stars.”
Gerard rests his hand against Frank’s arm before hurrying toward the ladders that are set up near the main entrance. Keeping his hand against his thigh – he’s not that far gone, that he’s going to touch his arm, even if that spot does feel warmer – Frank makes for Mikey and Pete, and pulls up short when he reaches the alcove. “Jesus fucking Christ. My eyes.”
“Hi, Frank,” Pete says with a grin. His teeth look white and shiny through the golden mane that flops onto his face and he clumsily pushes back the hair with a fuzzy paw. “Are you coming to make yetis?”
Pointedly, Frank turns so he’s staring at the sparkly vampire that’s been positioned on the Harlequin book display, its fangs positioned against a particularly buxom wench. “I’m going to count to ten. When I turn around you’re going to have your hand out from under Mikey’s skirt.”
There’s the sound of rustling and a soft thud as Frank slowly counts to ten. When he’s at one he turns, and sees that Pete’s zipped up his fur suit and Mikey’s perched himself on the edge of one of the display tables, his silver edged wings arranged neatly behind him and his artfully shredded taffeta skirt pulled primly to his knees.
“Gee want more yetis?” Mikey asks, fussing with his tiara until it sits straight in the mess of his hair.
“Yeah.” Still clutching his bag, Frank heads for the back of the alcove where half finished yetis litter the table. Then stops, unable to resist asking when he’s next to Mikey and Pete. “What the hell are you supposed to be?”
“I’m Aslan,” Pete says, and swipes his hand through the air with an accompanying, grrrr. “Mikey’s the Snow Queen.”
“The Snow Queen doesn’t have wings and wear fishnets,” Frank says, slowly looking Mikey from head to toe. “And Aslan didn’t wear spandex pants.”
Pete grins and lewdly swivels his hips. “He did in my book. You must have read the kiddies version.”
“Or you’re just fucking insane,” Frank says.
“He is insane,” Mikey says suddenly and pushes himself up, his boots thumping against the floor and his skirt rustling. Reaching out he grabs Pete’s tail and wraps it around his own wrist, then tugs, pulling Pete backwards. “Me and Pete need to check something out back.”
“Of course you do,” Frank mutters, but can’t help laughing when Mikey grins as he pulls Pete away. Dropping his bag into the swirling dry ice Frank examines the yetis, then looks up when he sees someone approach.
“Have they gone?” Patrick’s wearing a cowboy hat and leather chaps, also a frown as he peers around the side of the shelves. He adds, “I came by before and… Well let’s just say there are some things you shouldn’t see your best friend doing.”
“Tell me about it,” Frank says, and holds out his hand for a hand-slap of over-sexed best friend solidarity. “Who knew Aslan was anatomically correct?”
Patrick pushes up his hat with one finger, looking at Frank from under the brim. “You’re not in your costume.”
Frank gestures at the yetis. “I offered to help with these.”
“I can do that,” Patrick says, bumping Frank aside with his hip. “Go get dressed before the party starts in earnest.”
Smiling his thanks, Frank grabs his bag and heads for the staff room. Not that getting there is easy. He has to duck past Brendon as he clings onto the bookshelves with one hand while stringing lights with the other and barely avoids being hit in the face by a set of flying udders that have to come from Spencer’s costume.
Jon holds up the udders, looking apologetic. “Sorry. We’re modifying our cow.”
“We’re debating having an udder head or an udder ass,” Spencer says, sounding perfectly serious as he wanders over to join Jon.
“An udder ass,” Frank says. “Always.” Leaving them to that important decision he finally reaches the small break room, and finds that it’s crowded with people. The area around the mirror is especially crowded, Ryan fussing with his stripped pajamas as Vicky T adjusts her conical bra while Andy tugs at his loin cloth; not that it helps, the tiny scrap of leather barely covers much at all.
Spotting a free space in the corner, Frank unzips his bag and pulls out his costume, laying it out on the floor. A series of threats, bribes, and as a last resort, begging, means Frank’s costume is a match for Gerard’s. At least he hopes it is. As Frank eyes the skin-tight grey leggings he can’t help worrying this is Mikey’s idea of payback, which would be unfair. It’s not that Frank bugs him that much about Gerard.
Shoes kicked off and wiggling out of his pants, Frank starts to get dressed. It takes an embarrassingly long time to get the leggings comfortable and the bright green shorts are so snug it takes a while to stop them crushing his junk. Aware of being watched Frank affects nonchalance as he pulls on the red tunic, fastens his belt, and finally, puts on the cape.
“Looking good, Frankie,” Vicky says, her blond ponytail swinging as she repositions Ryan’s fox ears. “Old skool suits you.”
Frank leaps onto the ratty sofa and strikes a dramatic pose. “I’m off to save Gotham City!”
“Save the city and get your man.” Apparently satisfied with the ear placement, Vicky looks up at Frank and winks. “Go give him some pow, whap, bang.”
Frank drops his arms and jumps to the ground. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ryan turns, holding onto his glossy red tail. “Even I know what she’s talking about.”
Abruptly, Frank shuts his mouth. Ryan never knows the shop gossip, if he knows everyone knows. Resisting the urge to hide behind his cape Frank straightens his shoulders instead, heading back to the main shop floor, which unbelievably, seems to have achieved a new layer of glitter since he left.
“I’ve gone to hell.” Bob’s standing close to the door, camera in hand and his Viking helmet listing to one side. Suddenly, he takes a picture of Frank. “For blackmail purposes.”
“Bastard,” Frank says, and goes up on his tip-toes so he can look toward the front of the shop. “Have you seen Gerard?”
“He was in the stockroom last time I saw him, I think …” Bob trails off, grinning when he sees Ray’s hat knocked off by the udders. “Later.”
Normally Frank would be following, always up for an impromptu udder fight. Today he’s got another goal in mind -- namely, Gerard. Cape fluttering behind him he makes for the stock room and pushes open the door. “Gerard? Are you in there? I’m… oh for fuck’s sake.” Frank scrambles back and slams the door, the image of Mikey sitting on Pete’s lap, his skirt hitched up and legs wrapped around Pete’s waist, burnt onto his retinas. Scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hands he yells, “You can’t do that on top of the books!”
“It’s okay,” Pete yells back. “The fur is absorbing any fluids.”
Which is way more than Frank wanted to know. Backing away from the store room he glares at Bob, who’s standing on a chair, laughing hard as he holds up his camera. “Get an eyeful, Frank?”
“Scum sucking traitor,” Frank says, and flips Bob off before plunging back into the crowd, resuming his search for Gerard. It takes a while but eventually, through the mass of bodies and glittering surfaces, Frank sees someone wearing a black cowl and cape. Heart racing he gets close, enough so he can reach out and touch.
“Gerard?”
“Frank.” Gerard turns away from the buffet table, delighted when he sees what Frank’s wearing. “Frank Robin. You look great.”
“So do you,” Frank says, and takes in Gerard’s outfit, from his black boots to the tips of the cowl ears. “Very retro.”
“I know, right.” Gerard’s still smiling and he hooks his fingers under the utility belt that’s tight around his waist. “I was going to go more obscure but the store didn’t have any sea monster costumes, then Mikey saw this and said I’d get a side-kick this way. I thought he was hinting for him.”
“He’s too tall to be Robin,” Frank says. “And he doesn’t have the legs for it.”
“True, he looks better in fishnets,” Gerard says, his smile fading. “That’s if he still has them on. I went to the bathroom earlier and Pete was gnawing at them.”
Frank holds out his hand, he’s already scarred enough without taking on second-hand observations. “Pete is a very weird man. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Agreed.” Gerard nods and then looks down. “You have the legs for it.”
“Yeah?” Frank’s not above fishing for compliments and he flexes his arms. “I’d make an awesome side-kick.”
“You would,” Gerard agrees and reaches out, picking up a mini cupcake sprinkled with silver balls. “You want?
Frank shakes his head. “No. I want. I mean. What I want to say…” Frustrated, he scowls at the floor, needing to touch Gerard who’s just there.
“Use this for fuck’s sake.”
Frank’s not sure who shouted, or who threw the udders complete with tied on mistletoe. He doesn’t care, not when Gerard’s picking up the udders and holding them in the air, the mistletoe hanging down. “I think someone’s trying to tell us something.”
“You think?” Frank says, and takes a step forward, gasping a little when Gerard grabs hold and pulls him close. “You want this?”
“I want this,” Gerard says, and lowers his head for a kiss.
Fingers curled against Gerard’s back, Frank closes his eyes at the first touch. Gerard’s lips are gritty with glitter and when he deepens the kiss his mouth is warm, his tongue touching Frank’s before he finally pulls back.
“Happy New Year, Frank,” Gerard says softly, his breath warm against Frank’s ear. “I think this year is going to be great.”
Frank believes him.
no subject
Date: 2010-01-16 11:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 10:24 am (UTC)Sparkly Bob is one of my favourites :D
Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 02:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 04:40 pm (UTC)