A Bandom Kissing Meme.

[turps]

Yesterday was national kissing day, and I was talking about how it would have been a good excuse for a kiss meme, and how it seemed those kind of themed memes seemed to have died out a little.

Various people suggested I host one myself, and I figured why not? The worst that could happen is no one plays or comments and I end up with an empty post. Therefore....



Now, rules, and if I've missed something you think should be there or have been unclear just let me know.


All previous and current bandom bands and members are welcome.
All pairings are welcome. Threesomes, moresomes, bring them on. Gen is fine too, and if you want to do solo kisses somehow, I'd love to see how.
Any kinds of kisses go, on the hand, on the forehead, making out for hours, brotherly kisses, friendly kisses, the kind in the middle of hot, sweaty sex.

Leave a prompt with the kind of kiss you'd like to see. Either general ( I love kisses in the rain ) or specific ( I'd love to see Frank kiss Gabe and have to stand on a box to do so ) but remember don't get too detailed, try for a middle balance.
You can leave as many prompts as you want, but only one prompt per comment.
If you want to answer your own prompt, go for it. The more kisses the better.
Prompts can be filled more than once with either fic or art.
You can write/draw as little or as much as you like.
If you do write/draw please put a pairing and title in the subject line, that way I can link from the main post.
Please warn if needed.

Other than that, go for it. Prompt kisses, write kisses, draw kisses. *mwah*



(1)Gerard/Mikey -- Spot by akamine_chan
(2)Mikey/Ryan -- Cooking Class Verse by eledhwenlin
(3)Frank/Gerard -- First sober kiss by greedy_dancer
(4)Bob/Mikey -- Last Kiss by akamine_chan
(5)Dr Death Defying/Show Pony -- lazy morning by kopperblaze
(6)Frank/Mikey -- Reward by chalcopyrite
(7)Bob/Mikey -- A Little Patience by radioaches
(8)It's Never Enough -- Brendon/Spencer by knight_tracer
(9)Favorite Little Brother -- Mikey&Gerard akamine_chan
(10)Sub!Verse Late Nights -- Mikey/Ray by bebunny
(11)Korse/Fun Ghould -- Something gritty by tuesdaysgone
(12)High school sweethearts -- Brendon/Spencer by turps33
(13)No Big Deal Frank/Mikey by dear_monday
(14)With Your Mask On If You Have To Frank/Gerard by chalcopyrite
(15)Lipstick Kisses -- Frank/Gerard by lovebashed
(16)Practice Makes Perfect Gerard/Mikey by ladyfoxxx
(17)Killjoys from the POV of the kid by kopperblaze
(18)Killjoys Korse/Party Poison, first kiss by bebunny
(19)Painted Desert Serenade Party Poison/Jet Star by by chalcopyrite
(20)Playing Like I Know That Game -- Gerard/Patrick by creepylicious
(21)Mikey/Pete -- Not wanting to let go by ivesia19
(22)Dallon/Brendon -- dare by ivesia19
(23)Hello -- Gerard/Patrick by madambeetroot
(24)Gerard/Grant Morrison - a surprise (or two!) at Comic-Con by fleurdeliser and tuesdaysgone
(25)Bob/Mikey killjoys double dog dare by turps33
(26)Brendon/Frank -- stolen kisses during something actiony by delphinapterus
(27)Brendon/Ryan -- post split by ivesia19
(28)Gerard solo -- Sweet by jedusaur
(29)Frank/Mikey -- kissing in cold weather ( art fill ) by omens
(30)Ryan/Jon -- saying goodbye is hard to do by sailorstkwrning
(31)Keep Me Breathing -- Brendon/Gerard by creepylicious
(32)Gerard -- In the Mirror by undeny
(33)Faded -- Gerard&Mikey by romanticalgirl
(34)Like I'm Feeling You Gabe/William by romanticalgirl
(35)Summer For the Rest Of Us -- Gerard/Patrick by romanticalgirl
(36)A Better Offer -- Gerard/Frank/Gabe by romanticalgirl
(37)Hot For Teacher -- Gerard/Mikey by romanticalgirl
(38)Barter System -- Ray/Mikey by romanticalgirl
(39)The One Where Mikey Doesn't Kiss and Frank's Been Watching a Long Time -- Mikey/Frank by greenskribbles
(40)Approximate Sunlight -- Frank/Gerard by piratesunk
(41)Soundtrack of the Summer Frank/Gerard by piratesunk
(42)Remaking What Otherwise We Should Have Thrown Away -- Frank/Gerard by fabu
(43)Gabe/Patrick and Gabe/Pete -- He kissed a boy just to start shit. jedusaur
(44)This Is a Gift, It Comes With a Price -- Dr D/Show Pony by creepylicious
(45)Snake Vision -- Kobra Kid/Gabe by jedusaur
(46)All Ways -- Mikey/Franks by jedusaur
(47)A Blustery Night -- Brendon/Travie by dr_jasley
(48)Hazy Lazy Day -- Ray/Mikey by xoxxblitz7
(49)Welcome Home -- Gerard/Lindsey by turps33
(50)Love Droplets -- Gerard/Frank by xoxxblitz7
(51)Up For Air -- Patrick/Pete by jedusaur and verbyna
(52)See You -- Mikey/Brendon by bootson
(53)Staged -- Brendon/Spencer by bootson
(54)(How bad I want this) scandal; MCR: Frank/Mikey (+Gerard) by creepylicious
(55)Mikey/Ryan -- in a cage by slashxmistress
(56)Share Some Skin -- Gerard/Mikey by creepylicious
(57)Mikey/Gabe -- Projekt Gayhem 1/3 by jedusaur
(58)Skin -- Mikey/William by romanticalgirl
(59)Gerard/Lyn-Z - Take You In by romanticalgirl
(60)Pete/Mikey -- first time by romanticalgirl
(61)Awake With Sleepy Eyes -- Gerard/Gabe/Brendon by dr_jasley
(62)Take A Sad Song and Make It Better -- Brendon/Spencer by fabu
(63)And You're Overdue -- Brendon/Gabe/Gerard by creepylicious
(64)Gabe/Gerard -- the morning after the night before by delphinapterus
(65)We Kiss Like Painted Tigers -- Bert/Gerard by dear_monday
(66)Sink Right In -- Bob/Frank by desfinado
(67)Dem Dry Bones -- Gerard/Mikey -- desfinado
(68)Wish You Were Here -- Pete/William by romanticalgirl
(69)Bring 'Em Back Alive -- Kobra Kid/Gabe by romanticalgirl
(70)Worst Ever -- Mikey/Pete by desfinado
(71)Some Kind of Wonderful -- Pete/Gabe by romanticalgirl
(72)Gerard/Mikey, Frank/Ray - Love and Chainsaws by s0ckpupp3t
(73)Just a Shade of Green -- Frank/Brendon by dapatty
(74)On The Couch -- Mikey/Frank by s0ckpupp3t
(75)Brendon/Ryan by fannyt
(76)Familiarity Breeds Contempt -- Mikey/Pete/Alicia by romanticalgirl
(77)How They Fit -- MCR GSF -- by dapatty
(78)Hold On -- Pete/Travie by romanticalgirl
(79)William/Carden -- Airports by romanticalgirl
(80)Not Quite Paradise --Gerard/Gabe by romanticalgirl
(81)Patrick/Bebe -- More in common than just Pete by romanticalgirl
(82)Welcome to the Band, Dan/The Used -- by rokittomars
(83)Noises Off -- Mikey/Jepha by mtminded1
(84)Objects in the Mirror -- Gerard/Jamia by fabu
(85)Frank/Fun Ghoul by akamine_chan
(86)Frank/Ray - Late Nights Over Monroeville by delphinapterus
(87)Will Slowly Fade Away -- Gerard/Mikey by turps33
(88)In search of all things beautiful 1/2; Crossover - Frank/Gerard, Adam/Tommy by creepylicious
(89)If Wishes Were Horses -- Pete/Mikey by romanticalgirl
(90)CS GSF by rokittomars
(91)Anchored in That Old Time Rock'n'Roll by delphinapterus
(92)Worth the Wait -- Pete/Mikey by radioaches
(93)Diversion -- Mikey/Alicia by romanticalgirl
(94)The Warmth of Spring -- Brendon/Brent by dr_jasley
(95)This Is Not A Love Song -- Frank/Gerard by fabu
(96)Pedicone/Frank -- working out by romanticalgirl
(97)Mikey/Pete -- reunited by cold_clarity
(98)Luke and Leia -- Gerard/Mikey by s0ckpupp3t
(99) Mikey/Gabe -- drunken, sloppy make outs by romanticalgirl
(100) Bob/Ray --in the studio by syndelar
(101) Not Kissed Brendon/Spencer by eledhwenlin
(102)Brendon -- bouncy kisses by brandywine421
(103) Bebe/Gabe -- Gabe wooing by brandywine421

Comments

Panic, Brendon/Spencer

[eledhwenlin]

Brendon/Spencer, high school sweethearts, first kiss! :D

Fill -- : Panic, Brendon/Spencer

[turps33.livejournal.com]

In which there is very little actual kissing /o\


Brendon’s clutching his bag and nodding as Spencer talks about math class and how the meat they got served at lunch was probably horse and is Brendon staying for dinner because his mom’s cooking a pot roast.

Which is good -- it’s great -- Brendon likes listening to Spencer talk and watching how he moves so easily, grinning as he waves at his mom and dodges his sisters and yells, “Brendon’s staying for dinner,” as he runs up the stairs.

Brendon flashes a smile at Ginger and follows.



“I think. I’ve got... Yeah.” Spencer’s stretched out over his bed, his sneakers kicked off and his head close to the floor. He looks up and blows at his hair that’s fallen into his face. “Come in already.”

“You’ve got?” Brendon prompts, and takes a step into the room.

“I’ve got this.” Spencer rolls onto his back and then sits, showing a DVD of The Goonies. “It’s got a pirate ship.”

“Well in that case,” Brendon says. He looks at the bed, weighing contact against personal space and second-guessing as always. He steps over Spencer’s bag and sits close to the pillows. “Pirates are awesome.”

Spencer nods and slides off the bed. Kneeling he leans forward and puts the disc in the drive. Brendon swallows and takes off his glasses, using his sleeve to rub at the lenses. That way he can’t see how Spencer’s jeans are pulled tight at his ass, how his t-shirt has ridden up at the back.

Spencer presses play and looks over his shoulder. “Ryan likes Andy, I keep telling him she’s out of his league.”

Brendon polishes a lens once again, says, “Is he coming over?”

“Probably.” Spencer’s sitting back now, his shoulder against Brendon’s leg. “Mom always keeps him a plate.”

“Oh,” Brendon says, and he’s got no right to be disappointed, because this is Ryan’s space as much as it is Spencer’s -- a situation where family means more than a name. But Brendon is disappointed, and he slips on his glasses, blurred lines made sharp.

There’s a beep then, and Spencer hooks his bag with his foot, dragging it across the floor. Looking inside he pulls out his phone, reading a text before saying, “Brent’s coming too.”

“Awesome,” Brendon says, and even sounds like he means it.

“He does a great Sloth impersonation,” Spencer says, and yet again Brendon’s reminded that as friends go he’s part of the outside, distanced by circumstance and time. He stares at the screen, yelping when Spencer suddenly grabs his leg and pulls.

Brendon hits the ground with a thump. Scowling, he rubs at his back and says, “If you don’t want me on your bed just say so.”

Spencer rolls his eyes, which is rich considering he’s the one who’s hauling Brendon around. “I don’t want you on my bed.”

“Fine,” Brendon snaps, and he doesn’t even know why he keeps trying. “Ryan can have the bed.”

“He’s not having it either.” Spencer’s cheeks are flushed and in the background the movie plays unwatched. “It’s not that.”

“So what is it?” Brendon’s got every right to ask because Spencer asked him here and never said anything about the others and now he’s glaring as if somehow it’s Brendon at fault.

Spencer looks past Brendon, his mouth opening but saying nothing, until, “This.”

This kiss is unexpected, in that Brendon never expected Spencer to make a first move. It’s also weird, Spencer’s mouth nothing like the pillows Brendon’s used for practice or even the back of his hand. Spencer’s mouth is better, much better, warm, his lips soft and when he touches his tongue against Brendon’s Brendon gets so hard so fast it leaves him dizzy.

Spencer pulls back slightly, looking at Brendon. “That’s okay? You wanted it too.”

And all Brendon can do is say, “Yes.”

“Good.” Spencer smiles and picks up a pillow which he throws at the door, making it close. “Because I want to do it again, and this time it’ll be better.”

Which is a good idea, a fantastic one even, except for one little thing and Brendon has to ask, “What about Ryan?”

“He can find his own boyfriend to kiss,” Spencer says, and then, more serious, “He’ll only come over when I call him.”

Brendon rests his hand on Spencer’s hip. “You planned this.”

Spencer simply says, “Yes.”

Panic, Brendon/Spencer

[eledhwenlin]

Brendon/Spencer, high school sweethearts, frantic making out.

It's Never Enough, part 1

[knight-tracer.livejournal.com]

They never get enough time together. Time to be together. They are both just so busy, that any free minute where they haven't got responsibilities piling on them is precious. Brendon: trying to please his parents, keep a job, go to practice, please Ryan, keep his grades up. So, when Spencer has Brendon in his kitchen making toast, and the rest of the house is empty and Brendon is wearing one of Spencer's shirts because he spilled smoothie on his own, Spencer cannot resist taking advantage.

“Ummmm, Spencer – right there.” Brendon moans and his head hits the back of the kitchen wall without either of them really noticing.

Spencer has his lips secured over Brendon's neck and is sucking hard. They only have about ten minutes before Ryan is going to be coming over for practice and Brendon only got off work half-an-hour ago – it's never enough time.

Brendon pulls Spencer harder against him, trying to get as much full body contact as possible. It's not enough.

“Do, oh, do we have enough time for -” Brendon huffs out as Spencer nips lower at his throat.

“No.” Spencer states, drawing Brendon's mouth to his own before Brendon has a chance to complain. Spencer's hand is in Brendon's hair, keeping Brendon's head at the exact angle he wants. Brendon tries to move forward, but Spencer's hand keeps him back, refusing Brendon the extra contact with his hips he wants.

“Spencer,” Brendon breaks off to say, “I need, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon -” Brendon roughly pulls their hips flush and grins against Spencer's mouth, moaning a little desperately.

“Oh, God Brendon.” Spencer tries to move back, gain control back, but Brendon doesn't let him, sliding a hand down between them and stroking lightly. Spencer jerks forward hard and moans loudly.

“Oh My God – my eyes – my eyes!” Ryan's voice permeates their bubble of frantic touching. Spencer collapses against Brendon, shielding him from Ryan's wrath. “You promised this wasn't going to happen again Spencer! Seriously, you guys have been going out for over a year, why are you not over this yet! You are in the middle of the kitchen!” Ryan says loudly, accompanied by flailing hand gestures. Over the year Brendon and Spencer had been together, the three of them had to make a lot of specific rules in order to stop Ryan from freaking out and 'no making out in his presence' was number two, right after 'Ryan needs at least half-an-hour of Best Friend time a day'.

“Ryan.” Spencer says, and Brendon starts to giggle. This happens at least once a week, despite the previously mentioned rule number two, and Ryan is always as over-dramatic and ridiculous.

“No. It's ok, I'm going to go clean my eyes and then we'll set up yeah.” Ryan says and faux blindly makes his way to the bathroom, holding his hands out to grip onto the wall as he moves overly cautiously.

“We're sorry. It wont happen again.” Brendon calls after him.

“As if I believe that.” Ryan replies, raising his middle finger as he closes the bathroom door.

Panic, Brendon/Spencer

[eledhwenlin]

Brendon/Spencer, comforting kisses

Take a Sad Song and Make It Better (Panic, Brendon/Spencer)

[melusina]

“’It’s not you, it’s me?’ What the fuck does that even mean?”

She doesn’t even care enough to come up with something original? Spencer stopped himself before he used his out loud voice. “It’s just a stupid thing people say. . .A way to make themselves feel better.”

“And who texts someone to break up with him?” Brendon jerked his arm back, but Spencer grabbed the phone before Brendon could fling it across the bus.

“Don’t shoot the messenger. It’s a pain in the ass to replace a phone on the road.”

“You’d know.”

“Extreme circumstances! Ryan—“

“You’re right,” Brendon interjected, reclaiming his phone. “It’s not worth it.”

“You mean, she’s not worth it.” Shit, that one was out loud.

Brendon sighed. “Not yet, Spence. . .too soon, you know?”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s late. You should get some sleep. Mom always says everything looks better after a good night’s sleep.”

Brendon huffed out a little skeptical laugh, but obediently headed for his bunk.

Two hours later when Spencer had unwound enough to think about sleep, Brendon’s ipod was still playing (“Everybody Hurts,” tinny but recognizable) and he could hear Brendon shifting around too deliberately to be asleep. Spencer poked his head into the bunk and Brendon stared at him, bleary-eyed and mournful in the dim light.

“Hey.”

Brendon scooched over wordlessly and Spencer climbed into the bunk. Brendon immediately curled up next to him, expertly fitting their bodies into the narrow space.

Neither of them said anything while Brendon’s ipod played “Hallelujah,” then “What a Catch, Donnie.”

When “Eleanor Rigby” came on, Spencer hit the pause button. “Look, Brendon. . .” He yanked the ear buds out of Brendon’s ears before continuing. “It’s going to be ok. Really.”

Brendon rolled over, facing the wall, and when he spoke his voice was muffled. “Why do people keep leaving me?”

“Brendon—“

“They do! You know they do. I don’t care what Sarah said. It has to be me, or this wouldn’t keep happening.”

Spencer’s patience snapped. “Sarah’s a bitch.”

Brendon turned quickly. “Don’t--”

Spencer kept talking over Brendon’s protest. “She is. She’s a snotty duplicitous little bitch and I never liked her. She wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit her on the ass and there is NO way I’m going to let you use her stupidity as evidence of. . .your lack of self-worth or whatever crap you’re feeding yourself.”

“But--”

“No, I don’t want to hear it.”

When Brendon opened his mouth to speak again, Spencer kissed him, hard and vicious and fast. Brendon made a surprised sound, but when Spencer pulled away, he kept his mouth shut.

Spencer forced his voice to a gentler tone.“Don’t beat yourself up, ok?”

Brendon nodded, eyes wide, and Spencer kissed him again, softer this time and sweet, like the first kiss in a Disney movie, and Brendon kissed back. Spencer let himself get lost in it for a while -- Brendon’s lush mouth and darting tongue, lazy slow kisses heating up and getting just a little dirty -- until Brendon groaned against his mouth and clutched at his hip.

Spencer jerked away, because that wasn’t what this was about. Ok, maybe it was, a little bit, for him, but Brendon had never given any indication of interest and it’s not cool to take advantage of your friends when they’re upset and vulnerable. (And that goes double when they’re licking their wet, swollen lips and looking up at you with stupid bedroom eyes.)

Brendon’s brow furrowed and he touched his mouth tentatively. “Why’d you stop?”

“Time to sleep.” Spencer announced firmly. “It’s late.” That was good, his breathing almost sounded normal. He flipped through the playlists on Brendon’s ipod, settling on the one called, “Happy!”

“No more pity party music.” He handed Brendon the ear buds and hit play. “Get some sleep.”

Brendon blinked as “Golden Slumbers” began playing. Something flickered across his face and then was gone. He offered Brendon one of the ear buds and they settled in with their heads leaned together.

Spencer hummed quietly, then picked up the words on the next chorus. Brendon sighed and relaxed back against him and Spencer sang along until he felt Brendon’s body go still and loose with sleep.

MCR, Frank/Gerard

[greedy_dancer]

You shall not have an empty post, are you kidding? *g*

Frank/Gerard, kissing with lipstick on. Hehehe.

lipstick kisses, Frank/Gerard

[lovebashed.livejournal.com]

Frank watches the flick of Gerard's wrist as he paints his face. He's already got the usual eyeliner on, finger-smeared over his eyelids and the tender skin under his eyes. The blush goes next, something extra for tonight's show, brushed over Gerard's cheekbones in broad, round strokes. Frank looks at Gerard's reflection in the mirror and his breath catches in his throat. Gerard's eyes are dark and focused, the blush highlighting his apple-shaped cheeks. Gerard's hair is newly dyed and shockingly red and he's been biting his lip for a while, leaving it tender and spit-slick, and Frank can't tear his eyes away anymore.

Their eyes meet in the mirror and something warm blooms in Frank's chest, the warmth spreading all over. And fuck. Gerard smirks at him, wiping his wet lip on the back of his hand.

"You look like you want something," Gerard observes, abandoning the brush for Frank's total attention. "What do you want, Frankie?"

"I --" Frank starts, blinking slow. Watching Gerard going through the motions has put him in a muzzy, listless mood that he doesn't feel ready to snap out of. It's so quiet and dark in the bus, the reading light that Gerard's attached to the mirror is casting them in a soft spotlight and fuck, Gerard looks good. But something's missing. Something Gerard still needs. Frank grabs the toilet bag with all the make up and starts rummaging through it while Gerard watches him curiously, and as he pulls the almost unused lipstick out, Gerard gives him a knowing look. "Please?"

Gerard nods after a while and their fingers brush as he takes the stick from Frank, turning back to the mirror. "I don't even know what this thing's doing here. I don't think I've put on any since like, high school," he rambles, purses his lips for a while and then rubs them together, spreading red everywhere. He steps back from the mirror and caps the lipstick, putting it back in the bag. Then he turns to Frank, giving him a hesitant look. "So, what's the verdict?"

"You look fucking amazing," Frank breathes out, trying to look at Gerard in the eyes while he speaks to him but finding it hard to take his eyes off his lips. "Fuck -- I just. I think you're so fucking perfect right now."

Gerard gives him a small, almost surprised smile. He leans against the dressing table, managing to knock over half-empty bottles of hairspray. "Yeah? You don't think it's too much?" Frank shakes his head vehemently, and Gerard shrugs, turning his head to check himself out in the mirror again. "Don't think I'm going out like this though, I'm not quite Bowie yet."

"So this is just for me?" Frank grins big, and Gerard laughs, shaking his head.

"Yeah, don't get cocky though. Or I won't do it again."

"Again?" Frank beams, and Gerard winks suggestively, dark lashes dusting his cheeks. And Christ, Frank just wants.

Gerard's studying him with intent, slowly licking his lips before he rasps out, "Now be a good boy a get me some wipes, it's getting time to go."

"I have a better idea," Frank says, stepping close and hooking his fingers around the collar of Gerard's t-shirt, pulling Gerard in for a kiss.

Gerard makes a small noise and then just melts in the kiss, letting Frank brush their lips together and smear the lipstick over both their mouths, resting his arms on Frank's shoulders. Frank licks into Gerard's mouth and tugs at his lip with his teeth, wanting to taste and feel the texture of the lipstick, so stupidly turned on he doesn't know what to do with himself except this, just keep kissing him.

Gerard pulls away from the kiss after a while, breathing hard, and touches his forehead against Frank's, licking his lips. He hums a little, mouth quirking up, lips even redder than before. He plants a small kiss to Frank's lips and huffs out a laugh, stepping back a little before starting to wipe Frank's face with his hand, brushing his knuckles down Frank's cheek. "Jesus, Frank. I think you made it worse. Now we both look like we've been up to something terribly naughty."

"Yeah, with each other," Frank grins, and Gerard nods, smiling bright. He swoops in for another kiss and Frank laughs into it, making a note to buy the next store they go to empty of all the lipstick.

MCR/FOB, Pete/Mikey

[eledhwenlin]

MCR/FOB, Pete/Mikey, Summer of Like, not wanting to let go

Fill: MCR/FOB, Pete/Mikey

[ivesia19.livejournal.com]

The night is warm. It is the kind of night that is reminiscent of mid summer - the air hot and heavy - but summer is drawing to an end. It's almost over, but if Pete closes his eyes, he can still pretend that they have miles to go. That they have time.

"Don't do that."

Pete turns his head as he hears a voice that he knows well. One that he has already begun to miss. "Don't do what?"

Mikey sighs and pulls himself up on the concrete wall to sit next to Pete. His legs are longer, nearly scraping the ground as he settles. "Don't think so much."

Pete laughs. "Can't turn it off, Mikey Way," he says. "I can't pretend that I'm okay when you leave me tomorrow."

He doesn't need to turn to see MIkey's frown, but he does - he wants to soak up anything Mikey has to offer him. "I'm not leaving you," Mikey protests. "The tour is just done. This isn't the end of anything."

"Isn't it?"

Mikey sighs, but he doesn't disagree. The summer was a blur of too many emotions - too many stolen glances and kisses and moans - but now it's over. Summer doesn't last forever, and Pete knows this like a kid dreading the first day of school.

Mikey doesn't say anything. There isn't really anything he can say, but when he leans over and presses him mouth to Pete's, Pete opens up immediately. He chases the taste of Mikey, lets his hand fall against the sharp angles of his face - of his body - and tries not to think about how already that hot summer air is starting to feel cooler.

MCR, Bob/anyone

[eledhwenlin]

Bob's not only a competent drummer. ;)

A Little Patience, Mikey/Bob,1/2

[radioaches.livejournal.com]

The thing is, Mikey's made out with a lot of people. Make outs don't tend to be a big deal - he'll be at a party or an after party or another band's show and his eyes will settle on someone he wants, and he'll go over to them, a sip of beer here here, a splash of vodka there, and either they'll kiss him after a while or not. If they don't, he just moves on to the next person. (They usually do. Frank says it's his secret talent, the same way Gerard can draw and Ray can play any riff ever written for the guitar and a million he's made up, too.)

Everyone kisses differently, but it's all more or less the same. Mikey doesn't know if it's because most of the time he has a type or because it's always the same sort of situation, but most of his memories of make outs have all blended into one, dark rooms and loud music and the heat of someone else's mouth, split into two sections: the ones that lead to more and the ones that don't.

Bob is -- Bob is different, that's the only way Mikey can find to describe it. He's always known Bob's been someone worth knowing, someone more valuable to keep around than a thousand scene kids and fans. Bob came to Europe with them just because Mikey asked; Bob joined their band when they were on the brink of imploding, no questions asked. Bob means something, which is something Mikey doesn't usually like to think about, and with Bob it takes time. He's not just another girl or guy in a tight shirt and tighter jeans who Mikey can sidle up to and work his silent charm. It takes a long time, in the end, longer than Mikey would ever usually bother waiting, weeks of Mikey thinking about it, images splashing across his eyelids every time he closes his eyes, staring at Bob too much until he can't even shrug it off as absent minded gazing any more. On the bus, wasting time while they go from one venue to another, he spends the stretch of a whole movie just staring at Bob's hands, the way his fingers are wrapped firmly around the mug in his hands.

In the end, Mikey's not even that drunk when it happens, which is kind of a novel experience. He can't clearly remember the last time he was totally sober when he hooked up with someone, but he's only a few drinks in, warmth spreading loosely through him, leaning back against the dirty wall outside the venue, sharing a pre-show cigarette with Bob. They're the only ones out there for once, and Mikey turns to look at Bob and meets his eyes and the thing is, he's fed up of waiting. He's never really been any fucking good at it, even if he can keep quiet about it. The booze is working his favour tonight, spurring him on instead of amplifying the panic that always seems to echo around his head before they play, and so he inhales deeply when Bob hands him the cigarette, looks down at the floor and says as he exhales, “I kind of want to make out with you, you know.” He coughs a little and takes another drag so he doesn't have to look straight back at Bob, then coughs some more.

He can't remember the last time smoking made him cough like he's fourteen again, and he's pretty sure he's never just straight out told someone he's into them like that. But then, it's Bob, so. It feels okay.

Mikey inhales so deeply he almost burns his lips as the cigarette burns down to the filter, and he drops it quickly as Bob says, “Yeah, I know.” Mikey looks at him, and Bob's expression hasn't changed much, but his eyes have a spark of amusement in them, and Mikey realises at once that Bob's not just saying it, that he really does know, and that he's been waiting, winding Mikey up until he finally says something.

“Motherfucker,” Mikey says, but he can feel a smile slowly wrestling its way onto his face.

MCR/CS, Mikey/Gabe

[eledhwenlin]

Mikey's the scene queen and Gabe's interested. :D

Mikey/Gabe -- Projekt Gayhem 1/?

[jedusaur]

(note: general scene AU, no one's in a band)

Rule 1 of being a hipster: you do not acknowledge that you're a hipster.

There's an extraordinarily attractive, extraordinarily bored-looking guy leaning against the bar when Gabe heads back there for a drink between sets. Gabe nods to him, because he tries to make a habit of befriending anyone cute who likes the same music he does. The guy motionlessly observes him from the corner of his eye as Gabe talks to the bartender, then, after an approving glance at the PBR Gabe ordered, he nods back.

"Decent show so far," says Gabe. "Better than their last one. They've fixed the reverb problem, at least."

The guy shrugs. "Place is overrun with hipsters, though."

Gabe grins. "What gave me away, the trucker hat?"

The guy raises one eyebrow at him briefly and then looks the other way, effectively ending the conversation.

Rule 2 of being a hipster: you DO NOT acknowledge that you're a hipster.

The next time Gabe sees the guy, they're both at a party at Pete's house. Gabe spots him from across the room. He looks like he's holding court, except he's not actually saying anything. Everyone near him somehow seems to be paying attention to him anyway.

"You know who that is?" Gabe asks William. "The guy with his hair tucked under his earpieces?"

William looks, then snorts gracefully. William does everything gracefully. He probably shits gracefully, not that Gabe ever wants to actually find out. "That's Mikeyway," he says, like he's identifying Angelina Jolie or the president.

Gabe has never heard the name. "Is he someone I should know?"

William shrugs. "He's basically the king of the hipsters."

"Hey," Gabe jokes, "are you calling me a hipster? I resemble that remark!"

William gives him a long-suffering stare. Gabe wilts a little and files away the lesson more carefully this time.

Rule 3 of being a hipster: making eye contact during arguments about obscure bands is equivalent to tapping out.

"It's not about the music, man, it's about, like, the aesthetic."

Gabe doesn't even know this person, but he is staggeringly, epically wrong about everything. "Dude, listen to what you're saying," he protests. "You just told me that a band isn't about the music. How can you even live with yourself?" He leans forward, looking right into the guy's eyes. "They're a fucking band. Of course they're about the music. And their music fucking sucks."

The Person Who Is Wrong smirks, like he's won the argument. Gabe scowls at him, but apparently they're done talking now. Fucking unwritten rules of the scene.

(okay, it's after three in the morning and I need to go to sleep. But I've got the rest of the rules all written out, and I promise to finish this tomorrow!)

[greedy_dancer]

Frank/Gerard, first onstage kiss.

Crossover Mikey/Ryan

[turps33.livejournal.com]

I don't care what kind of kiss, I just want to see it happen *___*

Fill: cooking class 'verse, part 1

[eledhwenlin]

"You know we would come over just for pizza and beer, too, right?" Spencer's voice sounds tinny on the other end of the phone line.

"Yeah," Ryan says. He's a little bit distracted. He doesn't think the zucchini is supposed to be quite this ... pulpy.

Brendon says something in the background, but Ryan can't make out what. He doesn't care, he was probably just insulting Ryan's prowess in the kitchen. Brendon was very reluctant when Ryan offered to make them dinner. Ryan doesn't get it. He hasn't set the kitchen on fire since he started his cooking class.

"Brendon's right," Spencer says, "if we turn up and it's inedible and we have to order pizza anyway, we'll laugh. Just so you know."

"You're a bad best friend," Ryan tells him. "I will make this delicious food and then I won't share it with you because you're such doubting thomases."

"We have the pizza place on speed dial," Brendon says.

"Yep," Spencer says.

Ryan hangs up quickly because if Brendon's close enough to speak into Spencer's phone, it's definitely time for him to go. He stares at the sauce. He might be wrong about the zucchini, but that sauce is DEFINITELY not going to be a brownish colour.

It's maybe time to call in the cavalry.

Mikey sounds a tiny bit amused on the phone, but he still turns up at Ryan's place an hour later with all the ingredients Ryan asked him to get. "You owe me 30 bucks," he says.

"My wallet's in the kitchen," Ryan says and hurries to get it. Mikey follows him at much more sedate place.

Ryan's digging through his bag for his wallet, when he realises that Mikey's standing in the door frame. And he's staring at Ryan's kitchen. "What?"

"Did a bomb explode here?" Mikey slowly moves toward the oven, like he's afraid it might actually blow up. "Frank once pulled this prank with dry ice and a portable WC and the result looked a lot like what's in that pot there."

"That is a zucchini-asparagus stew," Ryan says.

"Are you sure?" Mikey glances at the pot. "Cause it looks like it's about to become alive."

"Fuck you," Ryan says, but even he can't put much heat into it. Neither the zucchini nor the asparagus was that colour when he put it into the pot.

Ryan thinks it's all the fault of the cumin. Maybe he put a lot of it in. Or the soy sauce. That, too.

Mikey does not actually make a face when he smells the pot. It makes Ryan love him a little bit because the reason why Ryan hasn't thrown away that pot yet is that he gags every time he steps toward the oven. It reaks like it died days ago. Mikey's way more hardcore than Ryan. (Ryan thinks that's Gerard's fault. Mikey's lived in a van with four other guys--Ryan only had Spencer who's a fucking mastermind in finding shower opportunities and Brendon who HAS to shower after every show and Brent was a tad vain.)

"Uhm," Ryan says. "Let's throw that away."

Mikey nods. "Let's do that."

Ten minutes later nothing remains of the disaster that was Ryan's first foray in cooking dinner. It's a tiny bit troubling--Ryan has already improved so much in class. He hasn't cut himself with the knife in ages.

Mikey's good to work with because he's quiet. It's easier to think when Mikey's right there, cutting olives in half.

"So, Mikey starts, "explain to me why you're cooking dinner."

"I invited Spencer and Brendon for dinner," Ryan says. "Grown-up people do that."

"Yeah," Mikey says slowly. "But why you?"

Ryan shrugs. He doesn't quite know how to say it. It's just--it's weird right now. Spencer and Brendon are in that weird phase of honeymooning where they're building like a love den, all warm and comfortable and home. It seems like whenever Ryan gets up the courage to call, Spencer's cooking dinner. Rationally he knows that Spencer's known how to cook since high school, that Ginger taught him how, and that's just something Spencer does. Except for how they didn't talk for a few months there and they're just rebuilding their friendship for real, and every time Ryan looks at Spencer and Brendon, he sees all the time he wasn't there. It hurts that he wasn't there to see them finally act on their feelings. It hurts to think that maybe Ryan had to leave so that they could.

MCR, Frank/Gerard

[greedy_dancer]

Frank/Gerard, first OFFSTAGE kiss.

Remaking What Otherwise We Should Have Thrown Away (MCR, Frank/Gerard)

[melusina]

“The bed’s spinning.” Frank’s voice is irresistibly plaintive.

Gerard sighs, irritation warring with empathy. “Put one foot on the floor.” Frank taught Gerard that trick, but Frank can’t seem to remember it when he’s the one who’s drunk.

Frank turns over and drops a foot to the floor. And because Gerard’s a sucker, he curls around behind him, holding him onto the bed with an arm around his waist, tangling his other hand in Frank’s hair.

“. . .better,” Frank murmurs into the pillow, pressing back against Gerard and growing still.

Frank’s breathing slows, and Gerard’s certain that he’s gone to sleep, but when Gerard reaches over him to turn off the lamp, Frank rolls over, his face suddenly right up next to Gerard’s. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok.” It is. It’s not like the whole world had to quit drinking because Gerard got sober. And how many times has Frank taken care of Gerard after a bad night? Hundreds, probably. But Frank looks dubious, so Gerard pushes his hair out of his face and adds, “We’re ok. We’re good.”

Frank beams, wide and relieved, and there’s no moment that Gerard thinks about it, no time to second guess himself or to worry about how Frank will react or what it will do to the band. When he closes the distance between them, Frank’s mouth opens immediately beneath Gerard’s, tasting smoky and bitter. Absinthe, Gerard thinks, as Frank’s tongue slides into Gerard’s mouth, like they’ve done this hundreds of times too. And they have, but not like this, alone, no stage lights, no one watching and cheering.

As it sinks in, Gerard realizes that there’s no reason to rush, no audience waiting for the set to continue. He slows down, lets it happen, capturing Frank’s face in his hands and nibbling on his bottom lip. Frank groans, grinding himself up against Gerard, and Gerard is suddenly, painfully hard.

He licks the corner of Frank’s mouth and finds a few grains of sugar there, startlingly sweet after the sour wormwood taste of the absinthe. And then there’s rough stubble under his tongue as he moves to Frank’s neck, making Frank squirm harder. There’s no way Gerard can last, not after waiting so long for this, thinking about it, wondering what it would be like, and when he comes, it’s like the perfect moment of drunkenness when he feels invincible and beloved, like anything is possible.

MCR, Gerard/Mikey

[eledhwenlin]

Gerard doesn't want Mikey to be sad. (Interpret at will, but brotherly kisses & hugs would be A+++.)

Gerard&Mikey, Favorite Little Brother

[akamine_chan]

Mikey sticks his head through the bunk curtains and Gerard can't help but smile, a big dopey grin that probably looks dumb as fuck but he doesn't care. It's Mikey, his favorite little brother and he's missed him.

"Mikey!" Gerard's feeling good, flying high, the beer's making him feel warm and fuzzy inside, chasing away the coldness. "I've missed you!"

"Gee—"

Gerard doesn't like the way Mikey sounds, kind of resigned. He doesn't like the way Mikey looks, tired and sad and unhappy, his mouth turned down, glasses a little crooked on his face. Gerard wraps his arms around Mikey's neck and pulls him into his bunk, holding Mikey tight, trying to ignore the way Mikey holds himself still and tense.

"Don't be sad," he says, pressing a kiss to Mikey's temple. "Everything's fine."

Gerard feels Mikey sigh and relax in his arms. "Love you, Gee."

"Love you, too, little brother."

CS/TAI, Gabe/William

[eledhwenlin]

Gabe can't stop thinking about William's mouth.

Re: CS/TAI, Gabe/William - Like I'm Feeling You

[romanticalgirl.livejournal.com]

Gabe is sober and William is very, very drunk. He is the kind of drunk that makes Gabe think that he was playing either ‘Truth or Dare’ or “I Never’ or both with Pete and Travie. He’s the kind of drunk that reminds Gabe of the time his brother, Ricky, had his stomach pumped and Diego had stood over him and shaken his head, disappointment in his features.

“I’m drunk.” William, on the other hand, is damn proud of the fact that he’s three sheets to the wind. “I can’t feel my fingers.”

Gabe reaches out, taking William’s hand in his. Without giving it much thought, he lifts William’s hands to his mouth and kisses the tips of each finger. William watches him with shining eyes, smiling wide and bright. “How about now?”

“Nope. Nothing.” William wiggles them, sliding his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. “It’s very sad. No fingers for William. Playing the guitar is gonna be a bitch now.”

“That’s why you have Carden and Tomrad.” Gabe kisses then licks William’s palm. “How about that?”

“Nope. Numb. Poor William.” He shakes his head, but his pout is suffering from the fact that he can’t quite stop smiling. “Writing lyrics with my left foot like Christie Brown. I could win someone an Oscar.”

“Daniel Day Lewis isn’t good looking enough to play you.” He kisses William’s wrist, scraping his teeth lightly over the skin, the veins dark beneath it. He keeps his eyes on William’s face, his mouth. “Not sure anyone is.”

“Do that again. I might have felt that.” Gabe repeats the gestures, sucking at his skin this time. William’s eyes close halfway, his lashes darkening the curve of his cheek. His voice changes when he speaks, a little more breathless. “Nope. Nothing. Very sad.”

“I think that’s a sign of too much alcohol.”

“Nah. I beat Travie and Pete. They were passed out when I left.”

“They probably had a little more than alcohol in their system.” Gabe trails a finger up the inside of William’s forearm. “What were you three up to?”

“Don’t remember really. But I totally won.” He shivers as Gabe moves closer, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of William’s elbow.

“Still nothing?”

“N-no.” His eyes are completely closed now, his lips parted. Gabe kisses him again, sucking this time, listening to William’s breath hitch. “N-nothing a-at a-a-a-all.”

“Mmmm. Pity.” He traces the curve of William’s bicep with his tongue and then bites lightly at the bulge of muscle. “What are we going to do now?”

“I…” William has to stop, catch his breath as Gabe bypasses his shoulders for the collar of William’s shirt, nuzzling where it meets the skin. “D-don’t remember what…”

“Hmm?” Gabe mouths at William’s neck, guiding him back onto the couch, one knee sliding between both of William’s legs as he braces himself over him. William’s head is tilted back, exposing the long stretch of his throat and Gabe helps himself to the beat of his pulse, sliding his tongue and teeth and lips over it. “Feeling anything, Beckett?”

William’s hips rock upward, his cock hard in his jeans as he thrusts against Gabe’s thigh. “N-nothing. N-nothing at all.”

“Pity,” Gabe bites the back curve of William’s jaw, tasting sweat and heat. “Because this is supposed to feel good.”

“’m…’m sure it d-does. Would. If…if I could…oh…God.” His hands grab Gabe’s hips, holding him steady as he rocks up against him. Gabe gives up the game, fitting his mouth over William’s, fucking it slowly with his tongue. William moans and Gabe has to thrust down, finding a rhythm with him. “G-gabe. Fuck.”

He slides a hand along the nape of William’s neck, holding his head still, losing himself in the kiss as their bodies move together. He bites his lower lip, sucking for a moment before pulling back and staring at the wet, swollen pinkness of William’s mouth. “Your band going to miss you if you don’t show back up tonight?”

William shakes his head. “Won’t notice.”

“C’mon then.” He pulls back, tugging William to his feet. “I’d tell you not to worry, you won’t feel a thing, but I’m pretty sure you’re going to be feeling me for a while.”

CS, GSF

[eledhwenlin]

Let's have ourselves an orgy, shall we? :D

Fill: CS, GSF

[rokittomars.livejournal.com]

Contrary to popular (Gabe's) belief, Victoria actually has to start the whole thing.

---

She picks Nate first. She wants an ally before getting into the Alex and Ryland tangle of Ivy League love. (As Gabe calls it.) Plus, Nate has been not so subtly watching her walk everywhere forever. She figures it might be some time coming.

So, when she rolls in his bunk, literally rolls because as the shortest member of the band he had been given the lowest one, and shuts up his questions with her mouth, she's really not that surprised when he kisses back.

Maybe she's a little surprised when he lives up to the nasty in his name, leaving her the bite marks on her inner thighs to prove it.

---

"Are you serious?" Ryland actually looks mildly freaked out. Victoria is impressed he can still maintain that expression after touring with Gabe.

"Heart attack," Nate smiles, and Victoria catches Alex's interested look.

"Who's idea?" Alex asks, throwing a hand over Ryland's mouth out of what appears to be instinct when he opens his mouth to protest.

"That would be me," Victoria raises an eyebrow coolly at Ryland, who appears to be in the process of swallowing his own tongue. Alex drops his hand and ducks his head next to Ryland's ear, whispering something. Victoria shares a glance with Nate.

"Well," Ryland clears his throat, "Who am I to deny the lady."

Victoria leans over and kisses him softly, smiling into his mouth, "Good."

---

With Gabe, it's a matter of herding him into a room on a hotel night and stripping down in front of him.

"Whoa," He says, eyes wide as he watches Alex and Nate making out while Ryland works at their clothing, "What holiday did I forget was today."

"None Gabanti," Victoria loiters near the door, watching. Gabe might kiss like a hurricane, but, "Now get the fuck over here and kiss me."

---

Later, with Ryland fucking Gabe next to her, Alex mouthing at his shoulder and Nate's face buried between her thighs, Victoria maybe smiles in self-satisfaction. Maybe.

Killjoys 'verse: Dr. Death Defying/Show Pony

[lucifuge-5.livejournal.com]

Dr D./Show Pony, lazy morning.

Fill: Dr. Death Defying/Show Pony

[kopperblaze.livejournal.com]

If asked, Pony would tell you that his favourite time of the day is early morning. Not because he's a morning person by any stretch of imagination, but because it's the time of the day where everything is quiet and the air around them not sizzling with heat. It's the time of the day where everything is subdued, the colours washed out and less harsh. It's the time of the day when Steve is relaxed and the lines on his forehead have been kissed away by sleep.

He loves mornings because there's no static, no rush, no masks and no pretense. Just them being Ricky and Steve, free from the overbearing shadows of Show Pony and Dr Death Defying.

Ricky reaches up and traces his finger down the bridge of Steve's nose, grinning when the man grumbles and turns his head away. Steve doesn't like mornings. Steve doesn't like any time of the day, if his constant grumbling is to be believed.

Ricky's fingers move and stroke over Steve's dark beard, prickly under his fingers.

"Ricky."

Steve doesn't sound amused and Ricky grins. He tugs on the stiff hairs, eliciting another grumble.

"Stop it. Go back to sleep."

"Can't." Ricky replies simply and moves to Steve's hair, trying to comb his fingers through the tangled mess. Steve reaches up and grabs his hand around the wrist, pulling it away from his hair and pushing it down between them. Ricky pouts, but it's useless, Steve's still hiding his face in the pillow, so he gives up on it quickly enough. Instead he shifts closer and bumps his nose against Steve's cheek until he turns his head with a sigh.

"What?"

"Nothing," Ricky mumbles and leans in to press his lips against Steve's. It's not gritty like their end of the day kisses, when there's sand and sweat and exhaustion. Their morning kisses are different and another reason why Ricky loves mornings. Everything is slow and warm with sleep. Ricky closes his eyes as his tongue traces Steve's chapped lips before licking into his mouth. Their morning kisses are always lazy, like the world outside doesn't matter and no one can hurt them as long as they stay like this.

Steve moves and wraps his arm around Ricky's narrow waist, pulling him closer. Like this Ricky can feel Steve's heartbeat, reassuring and strong against his chest. He wishes that he could always be this sure about the steady rhythm, that his days weren't filled with dread and images of what he might find when he returns to headquarters at night.

Ricky loves mornings because they are safe and because Steve is his alone in the few hours between dawn and day, when the world is slowly coming to life, donning its weapons while the two of them ignore reality and get lost in each other.

Crossover: Patrick/Gerard

[lucifuge-5.livejournal.com]

Their first kiss

Re: Crossover: Patrick/Gerard - Summer for the Rest of Us

[romanticalgirl.livejournal.com]

Patrick watches the show that is Pete and Mikey with a kind of wary amusement. Pete’s being subtle, for values of Pete, and they’re careful not to have their picture taken together, careful not to be seen, but Pete doesn’t know how to keep his head quiet, so words leak out that tell little scenes from the story, enough to fuel thousands of imaginations and probably song lyrics well into Patrick’s middle age.

When Gerard shows up at the door of Fall Out Boy’s bus, Patrick figures it has to be something to do with their errant charges, since he can’t think of any other reason. He steps back and lets him in, wrinkling his nose at the waves of cigarette smoke that emanate from him. “Hey.”

Gerard looks like he wishes he had another cigarette in his hand as he slumps onto the couch and looks up at Patrick like he’s possible had his soul sucked out. Being sober can suck. “Mikey and Pete are on our bus. If I go out, there is a very strong chance I will find a wagon to fall off of, and I think that would be a bad idea, even if it sounds like fucking heaven right now. I don’t even really want a drink.” That is clearly a lie, but it’s not Patrick’s place to call him on it. “But I very much want to bleach the sights and sounds I was subjected to from my brain.”

“So you came here?”

“It was either here or the TAI bus, and the Beckett kid gets all weird when I come near him.”

“He looks up to you.”

“Huh.” Gerard pulls a cigarette out of his jacket pocket, looks around and then shoves it back in. “Weird.”

“No weirder than this, to be honest.” Patrick stands just in front of him.

“No. This isn’t weird. I mean, we’re friends.” He looks up at Patrick, his expression somewhere between wounded and confused. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Yeah. Absolutely.” Patrick’s not sure what they are. He likes Gerard and they get along. Gerard laughs at his stupid jokes, and they argue about music. Patrick thinks the problem might be that his view of friendship is skewed by the fact that his best friend is Pete Wentz. “Totally friends.”

TYV: Ryan/Jon

[turps33.livejournal.com]

Saying goodbye is hard to do.

FIll: TYV: Ryan/Jon

[sailorstkwrning.livejournal.com]

The morning after the end of tour, Jon wakes up first, before his alarm. It's actually the quiet that does it. He can sleep through Andy gargling and Nick tapping on things, and he's developed a resistance to wet, inquisitive kitten noses reminding him it is time for breakfast, but silence, that will get him every time.

It's kind of nice, actually, just him and the sunshine and Ryan's bizarrely ancient coffeemaker. He sort of ambles around the kitchen a little, gathering up breakfast, periodically catching a glimpse of the packed bags and guitar waiting for him by the front door.

He cleans up in a way that he will acknowledge, if only to himself, is compulsive and a delaying tactic. But knowing he's leaving Ryan with a kitchen that is in good order eases the ache in his stomach.

Finally it's time to go. Ryan is still asleep, or at least still in bed. Jon didn't really expect him to be awake; he's booked the airport shuttle in advance. He's also left a note on the table, pinned down by the salt shaker shaped like a cow.

Jon taps lightly on the bedroom door, then pushes it open slowly. Ryan is totally crashed out, curled around a teddy bear in a swirl of half-kicked-off blankets. He's only wearing boxers and a ratty t-shirt; the AC is blasting and Jon is suddenly cold.

He pulls the blankets back up over Ryan, but even that doesn't wake him up. Jon thinks, for a moment, about cancelling the shuttle, and staying, about tearing up the note and trying just one more time to talk about the next record, about new music, about what it is they're doing now. He thinks about lying down next to Ryan, to wait for him to wake, as if closer proximity will fix their inability to hear each other. (It won't; they've had the same argument bunched up in the van as they did 2,000 miles apart, and Jon knows this, too.)

Finally Jon exhales, and puts one knee on the bed, and leans down to kiss Ryan's temple. Ryan mumbles and stirs and Jon pets his hair until he settles, and then he leaves.

MCR: Frank/Mikeyway

[lucifuge-5.livejournal.com]

Prompt: Kissing in cold weather is a whole production.

Reward, Frank/Mikeyway

[chalcopyrite.livejournal.com]

"Frank?"

Frank was unwrapping the scarf from around his face, tangling it around his arms and almost getting lost in it.

"Fucking -- there wasn't this much scarf when I put it on, okay?" He sounded sort of muffled, and Mikey bit down on a smile.

"You okay in there?"

"Fine, I'm fine, just gimme a second."

Mikey waited a second, then another, then kept walking when his feet got cold. He went slowly, but when he looked back, Frank was still fighting with his scarf.

"Hey, wait up!" Frank caught up in a stumbling half-run, kicking up streamers of slush from the sidewalk and trailing scarf behind him. When he'd closed the distance, he snagged his gloved fingers in Mikey's scarf, pulling it away from his chin.

"Fuck your hands are cold, Frank!"

"Yeah yeah, I know." Frank tugged at Mikey's high coat collar, paused like he was admiring his handiwork, then leaned up and landed a kiss right in the middle of Mikey's bottom lip. He stepped back and grinned. Mikey tried to follow him, but Frank just said, "Okay, that's all," and started walking again, swaddling himself in scarf as he went.

Mikey stared after him. "What?"

Frank's voice was muffled by layers of wool. "Just felt like kissing you, is all."

"That's what that whole production was all about? One kiss?"

He thought Frank shrugged, but it was kind of hard to tell under the scarf. "Yup."

"It couldn't wait until we got home?"

Frank's eyes sparked with laughter. "You know I like to get my rewards straigth away, Mikeyway." He pulled his fleece hat down more firmly over his ears.

"And that was a reward for...?"

Frank started giggling. "Remembering to wear my scarf, what else?"

Mikey stopped dead. "I do not believe you."

"I know, I'm just that awesome." Frank kicked at a filthy snowdrift. "C'mon, if we get home we can take all this off."

"Didn't you just -- nevermind."

Frank's giggles got louder. "Just do what I tell you, Mikeyway. It'll be fine."

"Oh, like hell." Mikey walked faster and caught up to Frank, then passed him. "I'm gonna find something else to do with that scarf."

[melusina]

Frank/Gabe/Gerard, snuggling. . .

MCR/CS(Midtown) - Frank/Gabe/Gerard: A Better Offer

[romanticalgirl.livejournal.com]

They’re not big enough for buses, but they have two vans between them, so after a gig while everyone else is at the afterparty, Frank drags Gabe out to the My Chem van and shoves him inside. It smells rank, like everything on this tour, and Gabe’s actually a little surprised he can still smell it. He thought he was immune to everything at this point. “There are drinks and babes to be had, Iero.”

“Whatever. There are always drinks and babes.”

“Yes. That’s kind of why I got into this whole gig, dude.”

“Liar. You got into it because you have the soul of a poet and the dick of a musician. I promise I have something better than drinks and babes.”

“If this is about your dick, you are very very wrong.”

Frank punches him and shoves him back toward the rear bench seat. Gerard is curled up there in a blanket, looking like he’s been lying in a ditch for a couple of weeks. “As if I’d let you near my dick. I don’t know where you’ve been, Saporta.”

“Coming from a guy who blows Way here on a regular basis, that is laughable.” Gabe pushes Gerard’s legs off the seat and sits next to him, forcing Gerard into a sitting position.

“You’re an asshole,” Gerard mutters, immediately shifting to rest his head on Gabe’s shoulder.

“It makes me extra loveable.” Gabe slides an arm around Gerard’s waist as Frank plops down next to him, thigh tight against Gabe’s, leg crossed over onto Gabe’s lap. Gerard catches Frank’s ankle and rubs his thumb over the bare skin above his sock. “So, when does this get better than drinks and babes, Frank?”

“God, you’re a dick.” Frank straightens, arching his back slightly and straining to place a kiss just below Gabe’s earlobe. “I forget why we put up with you.”

“You like assholes.”

“Mmm. True.” Frank moves up a little higher, biting at Gabe’s earlobe this time, sucking on it lightly. “Lucky for you.”

“Lucky for you it’s mutual.” Gabe turns his head, nuzzling at Gerard’s temple. “You awake, Way?”

“Not if I can help it.” Gerard blinks up at him, but smiles as he does it. “Or unless there’s coffee. Or sex.”

“Can’t promise one.” Gabe kisses the tip of Gerard’s nose. “Might be able to swing the other. I assume that’s why Frank dragged me away from an honest-to-god model to come and hang out in your den of sin.”

“Mobile den of sin,” Frank gives up all pretense and actually climbs in Gabe’s lap, dipping his head under Gabe’s to actually taste Gerard’s mouth. “The least you can do is get it right, Saporta.”

MCR, Mikey/Ray

[radioaches.livejournal.com]

Mikey/Ray, cuddles and make outs!

Hazy lazy day - Mikey/Ray

[xoxxblitz7.livejournal.com]

"Mmm, lazy day..." Mikey mumbles against Ray's mouth as his boyfriend pulls back from a rather long make-out. It's a Saturday morning and nothing is as perfect as waking up together, skin warm and flushed from being pressed against one another all night and knowing that they don't have to be anywhere at all, all weekend.

In fact, all that they have to do for the entire weekend is cuddle, and of course make-out a whole lot before Monday morning arrives and they pile out of their college dorm to rush to class late.

"Not doing any work today, refuse." Ray mumbles against Mikey's smooth lips and leans in to kiss him again, rubbing his fingers across his cheek before brushing his fingers down to Mikey's neck, scraping his blunt nails against the skin.

Mikey moans deep in his throat and moves closer to Ray on their small bed, pressing his chest against Ray's until he can't get any closer, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's torso and holds on. He absolutely loves cuddling in their small bed, where they have to lay on their sides in order for them both to fit, but it's perfect for them. The best cuddle sessions are always on a Saturday, when they have nothing to be doing apart from being close, lips together and bodies pressed against the other.

"No work, none." Mikey agrees as he pulls back from their kiss and leans to place one on Ray's nose.

MCR, Gerard/Mikey

[greedy_dancer]

MCR, Gerard/Mikey, teaching/learning how to kiss.

Practise Makes Perfect - Gerard/Mikey

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

"Why didn't you play?" Gerard asks, keeping his voice soft. "Chelsea was playing." Mikey's been mooning over Chelsea for weeks now, and a game of spin the bottle was such an easy in for him. Gerard doesn't get why Mikey avoided the game and ditched the party early after he'd dragged Gerard all the way over there.

Mikey shrugs, shrinking further into his oversize hoodie. He looks smaller than usual, perched on the edge of the bed. "I don't know what I'm doing." His voice is so soft Gerard can barely make it out.

Gerard's eyes widen a little. "You don't?" Wow, he is the worst older brother ever. He'd always just assumed that Mikey had made it with a girl by now. Not that Mikey's dated in so many words, but he's always traveling in mixed groups, he knows fucking everybody, and Gerard's seen the way girls look at him.

Gerard tries not to let his frown show and drops onto the bed beside Mikey. Mikey doesn't look up, his entire focus stuck on the Star Wars pattern on the sheets, which he traces with a fingertip.

"Do you like, I mean. Do you want, like, some help with that?" It's odd, Gerard never feels awkward around Mikey, but at this very moment he does.

Mikey peels his gaze off the bedspread and looks up at Gerard, one eyebrow raised, looking a little confused. "How?"

Gerard clears his throat. "I could like. You know. Show you."

Mikey doesn't move, his expression doesn't even shift.

"You know, how to kiss." Gerard explains, feeling weirdly warm all of a sudden.

"You know how?" The corner of Mikey's mouth lifts in a smile. His tone is teasing and it's such a relief that Gerard grins back.

"Fuck you, I know how. I totally got to third base with Barbara." Gerard swats Mikey on the arm, but he's smiling around the words. Mikey is too, and laughing at him, so Gerard swats him again, giggling.

When they calm to silence and Gerard's flushed and bubbly from laughing, Mikey looks at him, his expression considering, and says, "Okay."

"Okay, what?" Gerard lost the thread of the conversation somewhere around the slapping.

"Okay, you can show me."

Gerard opens his mouth to ask show you what and then closes it again when he remembers his own words.

Mikey doesn't say anything, just watches Gerard through his thick glasses, not looking away even though his cheeks are a little pink. His hair's sitting flat on one side and he's got a zit on his cheekbone. It hits Gerard in a rush just how much Mikey's grown up in the last year or so. He's taller than Gerard now, his face has thinned out and he looks far more man than boy.

Gerard is suddenly a little breathless. It's like his heart is tickling inside his ribs. He pushes the feeling down and edges closer to Mikey on the bed.

"Okay." He says, his voice rough and low. Mikey's mouth pulls up a little in an almost-smile. He tilts his chin up a little and yeah, okay, they're really doing this. Gerard shrugs, telling himself it's not a big deal. He slides closer again, until they're pressed together at knee and shoulder and Mikey's body feels so warm through their clothes.

"Okay." Gerard repeats, not sure why, just needing to say it again. Then he angles his head and leans in, pressing his lips to Mikey's. Mikey's lips are a little dry, and his head is at the wrong angle, so Gerard reaches up, pressing his palms to Mikey cheeks and tilting his head to the side. It makes all the difference. Their mouths press together and Gerard moves his lips over Mikey's soft and slow. It's nice. It's really fucking nice.

When he feels like he's made his point he pulls back, opening his eyes to look at Mikey. Gerard's still got his hands on Mikey's cheeks and Mikey's blinking at him from behind his glasses. His lips are wet.

"How was that?" Gerard asks.

"Shouldn't I be asking you?" Mikey twitches an eyebrow up like he's making a joke, but Gerard knows it's a real question.

"It was good. You're a natural." He smiles, feeling like he's giving the weirdest pep talk ever. "You're totally fine Mikeyway, you've got nothing to be worried about."

Mikey/Anyone

[turps33.livejournal.com]

Neck kissing. Because he's got a neck made to be kissed.

Gerard/Mikey, Spot

[akamine_chan]

There's this spot on Mikey's neck, right...there, nestled between tendon and bone. The skin there is soft under Gerard's tongue. It's Gerard's favorite spot, the one that his mouth can't seem to stay away from. He drags his lips across it over and over, hearing the hitch in Mikey's breathing, feeling the way the tension tightens his muscles. When Mikey tips his head back and moans, pleasure chasing across his face, it gets thrown into sharp relief and Gerard presses his lips to it. He can feel Mikey's heartbeat racing and he smiles.

MCR, Frank/Mikey

[radioaches.livejournal.com]

Frank/Mikey - friends make out all the time, no big deal!

No Big Deal, Frank/Mikey

[dear-monday.livejournal.com]

"Dude," says Ray, with an expression of mild confusion. "Dude, you. Wait. What?"

Frank looks at Ray, nonplussed. Gerard is next to him, looking sort of affronted. Everything is pleasantly beer-fuzzed, which is probably contributing to Frank's own non-comprehension right now. "What?" he says.

Ray makes a vague hand gesture that encompasses Frank and Mikey. "You can't, just... when did this even happen?"

"When did what happen?" Mikey's frown is one of intense-but-slightly-drunk concentration.

"You two!" says Gerard, speaking up for the first time, making a similar flaily hand gesture. "That is not cool. You should have, like, at least told us!" His eyes are huge, and he's probably already working this up into some epic betrayal. "Anyway, you're, you know, my brother. I didn't wanna see that."

"Well, now you know how it feels," Mikey says lightly, completely unrepentant.

Gerard sputters incoherently, something about performance-induced adrenaline and how it's totally different when you're making out with Frank as a political statement, okay, but a coherent thought is forming slowly and unsteadily in Frank's head.

"Ohhh," he says. "You guys think – "

" – That we're together or some shit?" Mikey finishes. He says "together" in a tone of voice most people reserve for "contagious". His nose scrunches up, and he looks at Frank. "Yeah, no offence, dude..."

"None taken."

"...But, no. Just. No."

Gerard grinds his hands into his eyes, as if he's trying to un-see it. "Then why...?" he begins, before trailing off again. Ray pats him consolingly on the shoulder. Frank shrugs, and Mikey rolls his eyes, which is as close as he ever gets to throwing his arms in the air and shouting.

"Friends make out all the time, oh my god. It's no big deal." Mikey looks at Frank for confirmation. Gerard looks up, and Frank nods.

And then, because he suddenly remembers that he still hasn't got his revenge on Gerard for eating all his fake bacon last week (and also just because he can, if he's honest; Mikeyway is a damn good kisser), Frank kisses Mikey again, sloppy and enthusiastic, and Mikey responds in kind.

"With tongue, motherfucker," Frank cackles when they pull apart for air.

"My eyes," says Gerard faintly.

Mikey slaps Frank a triumphant high-five.

MCR: Frank/Mikeyway

[lucifuge-5.livejournal.com]

He's been waiting a long time for this kiss...

The one where Mikey doesn't kiss, and Frank's been watching a long time Part 1

[greenskribbles.livejournal.com]

I kinda wrote you 1500+ words of slighly incoherent Frank/Mikey. There's also a bit of Mikey/Pete and Mikey/lotsofotherpeople. Sorry. I don't know what happened. I feel like I could write a lot more of this, because the ending feels clunky, and there's more. But for now- here we go

There's just something about MikeyWay. Well, if Frank is being completely honest, there's something about both Ways, something that would make Frank crawl across broken glass if either of them crooked a finger. But Mikey was his own breed.

Frank loved to look. The sharp points of Mikey's collarbones where they peeked over his stretched tee-shirts, the dark slant in his eyes when he saw someone he wanted, and his hips, god his hips, the way they swiveled when he walked. Frank never considered himself a voyeur, he never even liked porn, preferred to get himself off quickly and without a fuss with nothing but his own imagination. But watching Mikey work his way through a club, pressing against guys twice his size, pulling girls off into dark corners, the air of pure sex he exudes by just existing is enough to have Frank creaming his pants most nights.

He remembers, even before Mychem and the van days, and wasn't that an experience to teach some self-control, Mikey sprawled out across Frank cuddling close to Gerard, Frank listening to their whispers and giggles. Before that, back in Pencey when Frank was playing in shady half-filled bars drunk on cheap beer, the first time he saw the then enigma Mikey Way pushing a smaller dark-haired man into a wall, hoisting him up and fucking him, but not kissing, never kissing.

Never in Frank's life had he been more turned on.

Frank's watched Mikey hook up countless times over the years, but never kiss. Well, besides Pete, and if Frank's completely honest, the first time he saw that he nearly climbed under the bus, because Frank's been completely in love with Mikey since he was nineteen years old and following the band around like a puppy, offering them gigs and practice spaces, anything to get their attention. But Pete was good for Mikey, so Frank went through all the right motions, the good-nature teasing and innuendo, the tackle hugs, throwing more and more of himself into performing each night, because maybe if he was exhausted he wouldn't have to think anymore, would have to see Mikey kissing, slow and sweet, rough and passionate, and wouldn't have to be held still but such an overwhelming want.

But summer went and so did Pete, and Mikey climbed into Frank's bunk that night with roaming hands and raspy whispers.

"I can feel you watching. All the time always watching. Don't you know Frank? Touching's better. Touching's always better."

They fuck. Because as much as Frank knew that it meant nothing more than Mikey's various club hook-ups, that Mikey wasn't fucking Frank, the Frank he shared the last of the gummy worms with, the Frank he plied off of Bob with promises of cuddles and Rocky Road ice-cream, the Frank that held him together when Gerard was too high to do it himself. He was fucking the nearest warm body that wasn't his brother and wouldn't punch him if he tried, because Frank is weak, and even though this may not be how he wanted it, Frank's been in lust with Mikey even longer than he's been in love. When Mikey's done, passing out over Frank either from the booze, or the sex, or just the sheer emotion he might be feeling because Pete was the one he kissed and he's gone now, Frank pulls him out of the bunk and situates him into Mikey's own, cleaning him up, tucking him in, and setting him on his side so he doesn't choke on his own vomit just in case. Frank's had a lot of practice with this kind of thing from Gerard, but it hurts all the same. Frank can't let go of the hope that maybe tomorrow Mikey won't remember any of it, that they can trade the tired smiles and cuddle while watching Dawn Of The Dead and eating popcorn and M&Ms, just like they did when Jamia left, and maybe this is different but Frank still wants the comfort it brings both for him and Mikey.

MCR/MSI: Gerard/Lyn-Z

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

Welcome home.

Welcome Home -- Gerard/Lyn-Z

[turps33.livejournal.com]

Posting before I lose my nerve.

~~~~

Gerard’s lying between Lindsey’s spread legs, one hand on her thigh and his face wet as he works his tongue over her clit. Repeatedly he changes rhythm, making her gasp and squirm against him, swearing under her breath with each abrupt change.

Gerard loves hearing her, loves eating her out, the taste of her cunt and how responsive she is always, how her whole body tenses, her back arching when she gets close.

They’re moments Gerard revels in, knowing he could pull back and leave her panting, desperate for more, or push her over the edge with one last use of his tongue.

Tonight it’s hard and fast -- they both need it that way -- and Gerard takes in a breath through his nose as he slips two fingers into her cunt. They go in easily and he finger fucks her while using his tongue, matching the rhythm until she’s pulled tight, her legs trembling and making sounds that have no resemblance to actual words.

Gerard gives that last push, his fingers deep inside her and tongue pressing hard. In response Lindsey gasps, her cunt tightening and her thighs snap together, clamped around Gerard’s head. Sometimes he thinks he could die like this, his breath stolen and air replaced by hot heat, but Gerard doesn’t care.

He lies still, hard and fucking turned on, moving his fingers minutely as slowly, Lindsey relaxes, her legs falling open until finally, Gerard can take in a breath.

He pulls back, slides out his fingers and presses a kiss against her inner thigh as he props himself up on his arms, making no attempt to wipe at his mouth as he grins and says, “Just call me the king of eating you out.”

Lindsey’s hair has fallen into her face and her skirt is bunched up, crumpled around her waist, she grins as she uses her toes to poke at his calf. “Get up here already.”

Gerard goes, awkwardly crawling over Lindsey’’s body, his pants trailing behind him where they’re still caught on one boot. Kneeling over her stomach , he rests the flat of his hand against the hall wall, his legs spread wide as she runs her fingers over his thighs. It’s a movement that tickles, and Gerard’s desperate for more, his cock in her mouth or held in her hands, her fingers slid deep in his ass.

But not here. Not yet.

Gerard sits still, taking her in, her lipstick smeared mouth and flushed cheeks, how the ribbon in her hair has become untied and is loose against her shoulder. And as hard as he tries, through music or words or painted scenes, there’s no way he could ever say how much he loves her.

But that’s okay, somehow she knows.

MCR: Mikey/Ray

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

They've both been looking rather scruffy lately. Something where they both have facial hair.

Sub!verse, late nights.

[bebunny.livejournal.com]

**Geez I even have the right icon for this**

Thing is, Ray's got this thing where he gets caught staring at Mikey's jawline and that's him fucked for the next half an hour. He's been watching him for twenty minutes or so, lounging along the the too-short hotel couch, feet hanging off the end. Mikey's been paying intense attention to Frank's restraints and he's got this look of concentration on his face, like he can't find what he's looking for.
He can't of course, he's looking for a way that Frank can break the bonds. Ray's too good for that, he's checked over them at least three or four times each himself. It won't matter, Frank can and will thrash all he likes when Mikey gets going, except that Bob will probably go first. Mikey likes to take his time.

Bob's only just coming out of the shower, he's got his sweatpants on, and the towel is slung around his neck like he's been working out, he grunts his approval when he see's Frank's predicament and moves in to inspect it alongside Mikey.

Ray can't take his eyes of Mikey's face. Even as Bob clicks his tongue against his teeth, a sure sign he's pleased, sends a warm flush of accomplishment to Ray's stomach.

Mikey moves aside for Bob and Ray beckons him over, neither of them have showered yet, hell, or shaved in a couple of days. It's been hectic recently, Gerard's still crashed out in the adjoining room.
Mikey climbs on top of Ray, all limbs and elbows and angles. He slips down between the back of the couch and Ray, slinging his leg over Ray's thigh. Ray's not watching when Bob starts on Frank, although Mikey is, his eyes are all over the scene and he's already breathing heavy. Ray's letting his gaze trail across Mikey's skin, where the stubble is throwing his bone structure into contrast. He reaches up to rake a finger across it, feeling the rough edges.

Mikey looks down at him, and his lopsided grin is anything but distracted.
"You need to shave too." He says. Ray shrugs and tugs Mikey down for a kiss. They're both as rough as each other.

It doesn't stop Mikey gasping a little surprised grunt into Ray's mouth when Bob lands a blow on Frank's thigh that makes him cry out behind the gag. That sound is hard-wired to all their dicks. Ray breaks off the kiss to find Bob grinning at them.

"Well now," he teases. "Maybe I should just make Frank watch the two of you for a while.

Frank's high pitched pleading whine makes them all laugh. Frank included.