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Grocery shopping and other boring stuff this morning.

But I'll tell you what's not boring.

Look at them, the Ray/Mikey/Gerard sandwich. Frank in all his scruffy glory. BOB! The fact that yet again Mikey and Gerard have outfits they don't take off their backs.

&them;

I love the video for What a Catch, Donnie. Especially as due to hot spot shield this is the first time I've been able to see MTV USA content.

PATRICK! ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I want Patrick to go swim and save Pete :(

HQ version of video if anyone wants it

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From:

turps33.livejournal.com

"Oh, fuck!" Tearing off the guitar Ray drops it on the couch and grabs hold of Bob's hand, trying to pull it away from his face. "Let me see."

"It's fine," Bob says, looking through one watery eye, he keeps his hand pressed against the other and while he can't feel blood his cheekbone and the bridge of his nose is already throbbing.

"It was an accident, I'm sorry," Ray says, looking so horrified that Bob hastens to reassure him.

"I know." Bob moves his hand, blinking against the fuzziness.

"You should get that checked, I'll go phone for someone," Ray says, but Bob grabs him before he can move away.

"I'm fine. Promise." Using his fingers, Bob rubs away the tears under his eye and picks up Ray's guitar, handing it over. "Rematch."

They get through ten more games before Gerard stumbles out of the bunk area, he's wearing pajamas, his eyes half-closed as he makes for the coffee machine, pouring out a mug despite it being the dregs of the jug. Taking a long drink, he leans against the counter, swaying with the movement of the bus, and finally looks toward Bob and Ray.

"Morning. What the fuck did you do to your face?" Unmindful of the game in progress, Gerard steps in front of Ray and stares at Bob's face.

"I beat Ray and he hit me with his guitar," Bob says, and tries hard not to smile at Ray's horrified expression.

"I didn't! It was an accident."

Gerard reaches up, pressing his fingertips gently under Bob's eye before looking at Ray. "Violence is never the right answer."

"I didn't hit him on purpose!"

"Hit who?" There's a thump from the bunks and Frank appears, fully dressed with his hair sticking up in tufts at one side. "Who's been fighting?"

Bob steps a little closer to Gerard, says solemnly, "Ray. He hit me with the plastic guitar."

Ray throws up his hands. "I did not hit him. Well I did. But not on purpose."

"That's a fucking impressive black-eye," Frank says, whistling under his breath. "You look bad-ass."

"I always look bad-ass," Bob says, trying to keep a straight face as Gerard turns to Ray.

"You need to stop being so competitive. It's only a game, it's not Bob's fault he's better than you."

Ray runs his hands through his hair, making it stick out even more as he looks at Bob. "You need to stop saying that, they're believeing you."

Bob grins, making sure Gerard doesn't see, then jumps when Frank yells, "Mikey! Get your lazy ass out of bed and come see Bob's eye."

"I hate you all." Ray sits, clutching the guitar against his chest as Mikey appears still wrapped in his blanket, squinting as he stumbles forward, the blanket slithering against the floor.

"I was asleep," Mikey grumbles, and takes the mug out of Gerard's hand, draining it with one gulp. "What do you want?"

"Ray hit Bob in the face with a guitar," Gerard says, sounding disapproving. He wraps an arm around Mikey, letting him lean against him as Frank runs back for Mikey's glasses and slips them on his face.

"That's not cool," Mikey says sadly, and he wanders over to Bob, peering at his face. "Want me to kick his ass?"

Bob looks at Mikey, in his cat print pajama pants and over-sized hoodie, his eyes caked in yesterday's make-up and can barely keep in his laughter. "That's okay, I think he knows what he did was bad."

"Good," Mikey says, and leans in, brushing a kiss against Bob's cheek. "A kiss to make it better."

This time Bob does laugh. He fucking loves his band.