turps | A Bandom Kissing Meme.

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

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.”

ILU. :D

I'm glad you liked <3

♥♥♥ Go sneaky Spencer!

He's the sneakiest!

Thank you :)

OMG adorable. This is so cute and so THEM.

Thank you!

Especially for it being them, comment ♥

SO adorable!

Thank you!

So cute and well-written! And "The Goonies" is such a good movie, and they're gonna miss it, what with the making out, so they'll just have to re-watch it, which means more making out, ad infinitum. ;)

I like the way you think!

Thank you for such a lovely comment :)

OMG this is so sweet! Spencer you devious boy!

Spencer has a plan! Brendon should have had more faith.

Thank you :)

They're so cute, and of course Spencer planned it.

Spencer is a mastermind always.

Thank you!

Oh man, they are SO ADORABLE. ♥

They really are.

Thank you!

:D

That was completely and totally adorable and I loved it!

I'm glad you liked it. Thank you!

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

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.

“Is he gone?” Brendon asks, as he still can't see much as he is mostly still covered by Spencer's body. Not that Brendon is ever going to complain about that, if Brendon could choose he'd spend his entire life this close to Spencer.

“Yeah.” Spencer's eyes light up wickedly and instead of getting off Brendon he manoeuvres his leg in-between Brendon's and kisses Brendon, gently but insistently.

“Um, Spencer, we said...” Brendon tries and fails to be sensible, meeting Spencer's mouth with similar vigour.

“He'll be in there awhile, we have time...” Spencer manages to get out before fusing their mouths together and putting all his desperation into the kiss.

“Never enough time.” Brendon whispers breathlessly.

“I know.”

“Guys, you know I can hear you.” Ryan calls from the bathroom.

Brendon collapses his head onto Spencer's shoulder, using his hands to physically stop Spencer from drifting his hands to places that would make Ryan's head explode (more) if he saw. Brendon takes a deep breath trying to calm down, and tries to pull away.

“No.” Spencer growls petulantly, hands that had previously been curled softly around Brendon's hip and neck turning into a vice hold.

“Spencer.” Brendon says, attempting to twist away.

“No. Just, not yet ok?” Spencer's voice is plaintive and he kisses Brendon's lips gently, not hard enough to start anything again, but enough to completely sabotage Brendon's calming down plan.

“I - love - you.” Brendon breathes in-between kisses, trying to infuse his voice with all his love, lust, and desperation. He knows he doesn't even come close, and wishes for a moment that he had Ryan's way with words.

“You love him, he loves you – we all know. Now, let's go practice.” Ryan states from the doorway, a bored expression on his face and hip cocked aggressively.

Spencer pull himself off Brendon as slowly as he can and moves towards the practice room. Brendon watches him go, eyes glued to Spencer, the space stretching between them and Brendon is powerless to do anything but follow.

“You're just jealous.” Spencer whispers into Ryan's ear and kisses Ryan on the temple as he passes.

“Ack.” Ryan calls over his shoulder, wiping his head dramatically, but Brendon can see the small smile that he can't hide. Brendon grabs Ryan's hand and pulls him along to the practice room. As they catch up with Spencer, Brendon links his other hand with Spencer's, kissing it carelessly.

It's never enough. But they have other things too.

That is one hot make out session, but also so lovely with real affection between them all.

Ryan's freak out session made me laugh, I bet he's seen some sights *g*

Thank you so much!!! I haven't written anything is FOREVER, so thank you for inspiring me. I had loads of fun writing Ryan (I didn't mean too, but he insisted), the three of them are my favourite. xxxx

*flails* I love this. :D

Thank you ever so! Your prompt was too shiny to resist - thanks for the inspiration. xxx

This was great! Hot and funny. For some reason my favorite line was Ryan "wiping his head dramatically," heh.

Thanks. I love the idea of Ryan being all bravado and affected, but really just loving the hell out of his friends and loving how happy they are together (but they just can't know that).

Awww this is great. I love the frantic-ness and Ryan being obnoxious, and yeah. Having over-busy schedules sometimes really sucks :/

Thanks! I loved the hell out of the prompt, and couldn't resist throwing Ryan into it as well.

The affection between them makes this so much hotter.

Thanks, I think so too.

This was marvelous!

Thank you! <333!

Brendon/Spencer, comforting kisses

“’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.

Oh, Brendon. He's so heart broken here, and his pity party music selection.

And I have an oh, Spencer too. He's a good friend, but I hope he knows what he's doing.

Thanks - I appreciate the feedback. Apparently bandom means making fanmixes for 700 word ficlets? ::facepalm::

I kind of hurt for both of them here, but I have hopes of an eventual happy ending. . .(This is one I could see myself expanding on at some point.)

Also, I feel kind of shitty for making Sarah the villain of the piece -- I'm sure she's a perfectly nice gal who would never break up with someone via text message (and perhaps Spencer's take on her here is a bit biased!).

This would expand very nicely, I'll look forward to reading it if you ever do so.

Yeah, I read it as Spencer taking Brendon's side and not thinking things through fully.

Whew! That's good to hear (I really don't like to be in the position of demonizing girlfriends and wives!).

(And thanks for the encouragement - it's always a little nerve wracking writing in a new-to-me fandom. . .)

*____________* Thank you, I needed this today. <3

I'm so glad it hit the spot! It was a very inspiring prompt. . . :)

I really like the ending and how it's not perfect but better.

Thank you! When things *really* hurt, it seems like it mostly gets better by increments, you know?

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

Frank/Gerard, kissing with lipstick on. Hehehe.

Edited 2011-07-07 12:36 (UTC)

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.

Ohhhh, there is so much I love about this.

"Fuck -- I just. I think you're so fucking perfect right now," for example. Just gorgeous ♥

hee! thank you so, so much!

This is so good.

I can see them so easily, the atmosphere so intimate.

"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.

YES! That is an excellent idea, Frank!

thank you so much! and thanks for organizing this meme, it's totally what i've been craving for!

I'm so spoiled! This is great, GREAT, I love the stray makeup tube, all "oh, what's THAT doing there?" and putting it on JUST FOR FRANK and smearing it all over the place. Good luck getting that off, btw, boys!

Thanks!

thank you so much! i'm glad you like it. :)

oooh, this was wonderful! i love the image of gee with lipstick, how incoherent it makes frank and that gee does it just for him, that it's not something for public eyes. so lovely ♥

thank you so much! :D

NGK. Love love loooove.

thank youuu! :D:D:D

This is wonderful! I love how at ease they are with each other and how intimate it feels.

thank you! glad you liked it! :)

:D This was lovely.

:D thank you!

Very hot!

thanks for reading! :)

I've been trying to think of something to say other than "this is really hot" but... I think my brain melted a bit and all I'm coming up with is "really, really hot." :D

thank you! :D that is a totally valid thing to say!

Ngrrgh. *melts*

:D:D:D! thanks!

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

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.

That last line ♥

I love Summer of Like stories so much.

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 love them so much, and this.

I thought about filling every Pete/Mikey on here but decided to not be that crazy.
But who knows, it's hard to combat my Pete/Mikey loving nature :)

Oh, lovely and so saaaaaaaaaaaaaaad, but so perfectly them.

Thank you - the best part of their relationship is that it's so tragic!

Awww. Perfectly heart-breaking. Thank you. :D <3333

I'm glad you liked it!
Thanks for the great prompt :D

This is lovely and evocative and so sad. . .

Thank you!

I like how this is so bittersweet.

Thank you :)

Ow.

Oh. It made my heart ache. And it was so real.

I want to translate this story into russian and I want to ask your permission.

You're perfectly welcome! Just make sure to credit :)

Bob's not only a competent drummer. ;)

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.

“Yeah,” Bob says, unconcerned, and then he steps in close and ducks his head and kisses Mikey without either of them having to say anything else. His mouth is hot and the scrape of his stubble over Mikey's chin sends even more warmth flowing through Mikey, makes him open his mouth under Bob's right away. He rests a hand on Bob's shoulder and Bob lifts a hand to cup his cheek, fingers spread wide, reaching down to his neck, and Mikey's used to making out with scene kids who are built like he is, small and skinny, and he pulls Bob in closer, and Bob is so big. It's all Mikey can focus on, the slide of Bob's tongue against his and the warmth of Bob all along his front, blocking him in against the wall. Bob rests his other hand on Mikey's hip, fingers touching the strip of skin between Mikey's low riding jeans and too-short t-shirt, and Mikey swears he can feel Bob's calluses even if it's only because he knows they're there. He doesn't know why he didn't notice before, when he was watching Bob's hands on the bus, exactly how large they are. He curls his own free hand around the back of Bob's neck and rubs his fingers over his short, rough hair, scrapes his nails just hard enough that he knows Bob will feel it.

Mikey's made out with a lot of people, knows he's a good kisser, but Bob is fucking awesome.

Bob's nose bumps Mikey's glasses as he pulls back just a little, and Mikey blinks, tries to pretend he isn't breathless from just one kiss. Bob's still touching him, and he can feel every point of contact. He feels it as Bob lets out a slow, rough breath, too. The air hits Mikey's bottom lip, and he bites it without thinking and watches Bob's eyes drop from his down to his mouth.

The silence drags on longer than feels normal, even though sometimes Mikey can sit with Bob on the bus for hours in relative quiet, rarely talking, enjoying the rare peace. He thinks he should say something, but his brain is still stuck on how big and warm Bob's hands feel against his skin, how easily Bob could move him around, maybe manhandle him a bit. It's a distracting train of thought. It's easier to ignore the awkward feelings threatening to edge in between them and wait for Bob to say something instead.

“Mikey,” Bob says softly, the rough pad of his thumb tracing over the line of Mikey's cheekbone, and then he sighs. “We probably need to get back, we must be on soon.”

Mikey nods. “Gerard'll freak out if he thinks we've disappeared,” he agrees, and Bob steps back at Gerard's name like it's a magic word, letting go of Mikey and establishing at least a few inches of distance between them. Mikey ducks his head, grinning for a moment. It's fucking hilarious, every time, no matter who it is, when someone suddenly feels intimidated by Gerard just because they've been kissing Mikey.

“Yeah.”

“Hey,” Mikey says, stepping forward, away from the wall and toward Bob before Bob has a chance to turn and head back inside. He kisses Bob briefly, gets the corner of his mouth more than his actual lips but doesn't give the clumsiness too much thought. “I kinda wanna make out later, too.” He blinks seriously at Bob, fighting back the smile that won't quite fade. “If that's cool.”

Bob nods, scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck, looking awkward at last. “That's – yeah, that's cool.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mikey says, and grins again, and Bob laughs quietly and says, “Motherfucker.”

I love this so much!

Size difference, be still my heart!

And people being intimidated by Gerard after kissing Mikey, and the repeating of that last line.

Also, the kiss is damn hot. *___*

asadhjkgkl CALLUSES. BECAUSE MIKEY KNOWS THEY'RE THERE. I love Bob making him wait for it, and Gerard's name as magic kiss-repellent. :D

This is everything I wanted. :D

My heart's a little undone by this unromantic romantic little ficlet!!! So hot, and so nuanced, and the Gerard line! And the hands on that strip of skin, those big hands and MANHANDLING and UNF.

♥

That was lovely. ♥

HE KNEW. God, I love this Bob ♥ ♥

Mikey nods. “Gerard'll freak out if he thinks we've disappeared,” he agrees, and Bob steps back at Gerard's name like it's a magic word, letting go of Mikey and establishing at least a few inches of distance between them. Mikey ducks his head, grinning for a moment. It's fucking hilarious, every time, no matter who it is, when someone suddenly feels intimidated by Gerard just because they've been kissing Mikey. This part just made me laugh. I love how it's so obvious there is a lot of backstory under Mikey's thoughts about Gerard and his intimidating factor.

Gah. Love this, so much.

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

(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!)

This is an excellent start. I'm looking forward to reading the rest.

Can't wait to read more of this!

Rule 4 of being a hipster: only two hipsters to a square yard of floor space at concerts. If the concentration of hipsters exceeds this limit, the band has become too mainstream to follow.

Mikey is making out with the Person Who Is Wrong. Gabe is displeased.

He's not jealous, of course. There's no point in getting territorial over people like Mikeyway. That would be like getting annoyed because you're not the only person who gets to look at the Mona Lisa. If Gabe gets a chance at all, he'll be grateful as fuck, not bitching about how many other people have lined up across the Louvre. He's not jealous, he's just irritated that he hasn't gotten a chance, while Mikey is over there sucking face with this kid who likes to use crayons of colored bullshit to metaphorically scribble pictures of penises all over every metaphorical art exhibit he comes across.

Gabe looks away. The room is scattered with twentysomethings, carefully spacing themselves out for maximum elbow room. Occasionally two of them express affection by narrowing the gap between their bodies to less than a foot. Gabe shifts toward one of these pairs experimentally. They don't condescend to look at him, but the stony gazes they're directing toward the stage become a little stonier, and they tense up until he moves away.

Rule 5 of being a hipster: one earbud at a time.

The first opening band finishes, and Gabe joins the mass of audience members pulling out iPods to keep themselves busy until the second opening band comes out. It's only cool to look bored if you've got something to ignore.

He blasts Sonic Youth, although not loudly enough for anyone to be able to hear it and silently judge him for listening to recognizable music. After a few minutes, he becomes aware of a presence nearby, a little too close for hipster comfort. He turns his head and nearly drops his drink. Mikey is there, standing right next to him and talking in his direction.

Gabe pops out his earbuds, surreptitiously changing the music to something more obscure in case Mikey catches a glimpse of the display. "Sorry, what?"

Mikey gives him a look of mild disdain. "Nothing."

Gabe swears internally, making a mental note to leave one earbud out when cute scene queens are available for potential conversation. He's trying to think of a way to keep Mikey from walking away when Mikey says, "Ryan thinks you're a poseur."

Gabe follows his line of sight to where the Person Who Is Wrong is propped neutrally against a wall. Gabe snorts. "Yeah, because he's so hardcore with his makeup and high-heeled ankle boots. I don't think I'm gonna worry too much about accusations of poseurdom from someone who tries to seriously argue that a band's choice of font in their album artwork should affect my opinion of their music."

"I agree," says Mikey, and shifts to within a foot of Gabe.

Whoa. This relationship is moving forward fast.

Rule 6 of being a hipster: no scarf, no glasses, no cred.

The second band is shitty enough to ignore, especially since it's looking highly likely that Gabe might be getting an up-close viewing of La Gioconda tonight. He and Mikey have migrated to the opposite end of the bar from the bartender, where there's space to lean without being crowded.

"They are not," says Mikey, in a more interested monotone than his usual one. "I need them to see."

"Not your glasses, specifically," clarifies Gabe. "I'm not calling you a hipster." He has sure as fuck learned his lesson on that one, even if Mikey is wearing skinny jeans and a threadbare thrift-store t-shirt with a probably-ironic unicorn on the front. "I'm just saying, people wearing glasses show up at indie concerts in way greater numbers than the actual incidence of visual impairment in the general population. They can't all actually need them."

Mikey shrugs, or rather twitches his neck in a vaguely shruggy manner. "I don't think the glasses matter, in particular. It's about looking interesting, you know? I appreciate accessories that are different. Like your Justin Timberlake icon necklace, that's original. That's a statement."

Well. That actually is ironic, not just hipster-ironic. Gabe knows better than to thank him for the compliment or try to return it, though. He just basks a little in the hint of approval.

Rule 7 of being a hipster: never stay for the headliner. The best bands are always the openers.

"C'mon." Mikey sets his glass on the counter. It still has about two dollars' worth of cocktail in the bottom.

Gabe drains his beer and follows him. "Where we going?"

"Backstage," Mikey says casually. "I was just here to see the first openers, they're friends of mine. Way better than the next one, trust me."

Gabe was actually here for the next band, but he doesn't risk losing the opportunity to get Mikey alone by saying so.

Rule 8 of being a hipster: if you want to establish any kind of reputation on the scene, you have to make out with Mikey Way.

Mikey kisses like Gabe is auditioning at first, then Gabe seems to pass some kind of test and they're making out for real. Apart from his lips and one hand draped over his hip, Mikey doesn't touch Gabe. He's a master of the art of the tease. It's as fun as sex.

Later, after the rest of the show is over, he introduces Gabe to all of the bands. Gabe lifts an eyebrow and doesn't say hello. He's learning the rules.

Totally fantastic and satisfying!

Thanks!

This remains so funny and fantastic.

Also, so much love for the addition of the Mikey/Ryan making out, even if it didn't work out.

Thank you! Mikey/Ryan FTW. And it totally worked out, Mikey's makeouts always work out exactly the way he wants them to.

I love you best. <3333333333 This is so much more than I'd expected! GABE. Oh, I love his ridiculousness. <3

Thanks, glad you liked it!

This was hilarious. I love how they're so into being scene and Mikey is scener than scene and Gabe has to learn it. All the unspoken cues were perfect.

Thank you!

PFFFFFFFFFFFFT this was VERY amusing and informative. THAT'S why I confuse them so: I always make eye contact!

Mikey Way, what a queen ♥

Oh yeah, you can't do that. Also, no hand gestures during conversations except the middle finger, sharing your drugs is the hipster equivalent of a blood bond, if you spot an accessory in a store window that you own you should burn yours immediately, and staying in a hookup's bed until morning is a social faux pas on par with puking at the table. Take notes.

Oh man, this is so great!

Frank/Gerard, first onstage kiss.

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

"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.

Ryan just wants them all to be friends and maybe he wants to show them that he's able to manage on his own. Just a little bit.
"Just wanted to," Ryan says in a tight voice.

"Hey." Mikey bumps Ryan's hip. Ryan looks up and catches Mikey grinning at him. "Wait, you got something there." Mikey reaches up and wipes something from Ryan's cheek. Except for how he forgets to take his hand away.

"Hi," Ryan says and his throat is dry and he has to swallow before any sound will come out.

"Hey." Mikey's close, he wasn't that close before, and he's looking at Ryan and Ryan's heart starts beating very, very fast.

Mikey's lips are dry and soft. He kisses slow and gentle, so different from anyone else Ryan's kissed recently. Mikey doesn't let Ryan push him, though, keeps the kiss sweet and shallow.

Ryan maybe kind of wants to press Mikey against the counter and see what he needs to do to get Mikey to kiss him hard.

"Hey," Mikey says again, against Ryan's lips.

Ryan smiles, despite himself. "You're a good conversationalist," he says.

"Fuck you," Mikey says. He kisses Ryan again. Ryan maybe clings a little, lets Mikey's calm sweep over him. He feels better when they break for air next.

"Hi," Ryan says this time. Mikey's lips are red and a bit swollen, and Ryan's brain is kind of stuck on that.

"Now who's eloquent?" Mikey says grinning.

Ryan leans in for another kiss, but then the door bell rings, the door opens and Brendon yells, "Honey, we're home!"

"Fuck!" Ryan lets go of Mikey. "The food isn't ready and they're already here and fuck--"

"Did we interrupt something?" Spencer's eyeing Mikey and Ryan, but he doesn't let on what he's feeling.

"Um, no."

"We were making dinner," Mikey says stoically, and Ryan could kiss him again. When he considers that he might get to later, he can't suppress a grin.

"Suuure," Brendon says. He's grinning. "Just like Spencer and I did not at all give each other blow jobs before we left because we couldn't wait until tonight."

Ryan groans. "Oversharing!"

"Brendon!" Spencer sounds chastising, but he's also blushing a bit, so it's true and, fuck, Ryan will never get that image out of his brain.

Brendon beams, unabashed. Ryan maybe hates him a little bit.

Mikey leans in close. "If you make it through this dinner," he says, "maybe we could do that mutual blow job thing."

Ryan grins. That he can totally do.

I am flailing so hard right now!

This is so good. I love Ryan's reasons for cooking and how everything went wrong and he's trying so hard to be a grown up and then Mikey just turns up and their exciting conversation and their kiss.

And mutual blow jobs and just everything!

Thank you so much! <3333333

You're welcome, darling! <3333

I, uh, might get around to writing those blowjobs actually. ;)

Hi back, bb! Sweet and funny. Lovely!

Thank you, dearest. <33333

This is DELIGHTFUL. OMG Ryan wanting to cook because Spencer and Bden are HONEYMOONING and this line here: 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. Ouch, but also ♥ because I love that he cares so much and that they are rebuilding their friendship. Ugh post-divorce friendship fics are totally my kryptonite.

I love ALL the banter and friendship and your Mikeway is awesome and fearless and made of unicorns.

SO MUCH WIN.

Thank you! :D

They've totally been honeymooning for a while. Like a year. Ryan's still getting used to the thought. ;)

<33333333333333333

So adorable. Although, seriously, the idea of ryro cooking is still frightening.

*beams* :D

But he hasn't actually hurt himself in WEEKS and he can totally tell when something's too burned to eat. He's LEARNING. ;)

Frank/Gerard, first OFFSTAGE kiss.

Edited 2011-07-07 12:36 (UTC)

“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.

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.

Guh!

But more than that helping of hot, I really like how you tie this into Gerard being sober. That last line is just perfect.

I'm so glad you liked it! This is baby's first bandom fic(let) - thank you for doing this meme, because it was the perfect thing to get me started. . .

(This is melusina from DW, btw. . .)

I totally didn't know it was you!

I'm glad you decided to write this, and hope you go on to write many other bandom stories.

I was so excited to claim my primary fannish pseud over on DW, but it does lead to confusion when switching back and forth between DW and LJ. . .

And I'm very much in hopes that I'll write lots of bandom fic! (I have my eye on a few more of the kissing prompts. . . :) )

That's lovely! I love the moment when Gerard realises that they don't have to hurry.

Thank you! That line was a late addition, so I'm particularly glad that you liked it. . .

Oh! This is so cool, funny and sweet and this slight edge of angst. I love that it's so "late" in the game, too!

Thank you for the fill!!

I'm so glad you liked it!

This was really groovy. I loved the last line as Gerard is simply elated. :)

Thanks!

This is gorgeous! Really a perfectly captured moment. I love all the sensory details.

Thank you -- I'm so glad you enjoyed it!

Oh Gerard, my heart! I love the immediacy of this, and the weight of their relationship and how it's adjusting and changing with sobriety. This is so real and so them.

Thank you! I'm so glad it rang true for you -- I've *just* started writing bandom fic, so that's very encouraging. . . :)

Terribly late comment, but that was pretty damn awesome!

Thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed it. . .

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

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."

Way bros!

I love them so and you captured this moment so well. I don't want Mikey to be sad either, but that's not the way to go about it Gerard.

You're rocking these today ♥

\o/!

Awwwww. :D

I know, right? *pets them*

Lovely and bittersweet!

*pets them*

This broke my heart a little, the way that you do. ♥

*glues it back together, carefully*

Europe is perfect for his mood. He feels bleak and ancient and made of stone. It doesn’t matter that the tour’s going well. It doesn’t matter that they’ve got songs ideas for the new album and Gee has a vision for the band. All that matters is that Mikey is here and Pete is somewhere else, and the summer ended before either of them were ready, both of them knowing it was over and why, but not liking it.

He knows he’s not the best company in the van, and even Bob and Ray, who are both pretty easy-going, look ready to toss him out the side door and leave him on the autobahn. He tries to stay out of everyone’s way, tries to share the same awe they do at the ancient gothic churches and works of art, but he knows he keeps missing the mark. Frank actually called him out on frowning the other day, telling him that even Mona Lisa was smiling.

He knows things are really bad when they leave him sleeping in the van while Brian finagles a deal with a hotel and restaurant that even their cheap, broke asses can afford. He keeps feigning sleep while everyone unloads, ignoring the talk of showers and the privacy of jerking off with just one or two other people in the room. He huddles in his hoodie, fingers moving over the bartskull charm on the leather wristband Pete gave him.

The van’s quiet again, the merriment converging on the hotel and leaving him in peace. He opens his eyes and jerks as he finds himself staring at Gerard over the back of the van’s middle seat. “Holy shit, Gee. You scared the fuck out of me.”

“Sorry.” He’s frowning, watching Mikey with eyes that don’t miss anything. For a brief, selfish moment Mikey misses Gerard being so deeply involved in his own shit he didn’t really see anyone else’s. “You want to talk?”

“Nothing to talk about. We both knew how it was going to go. No other way.”

“Doesn’t change how you felt. How you feel.”

“I feel like shit. Nothing changes that either.”

“You’re still friends.”

“Yeah. And that hurts probably just as much as if we weren’t speaking. I mean, it won’t in the long run, but now it hurts like a fucking bitch.” He sighs and closes his eyes. “Fucking Pete Wentz.”

“I won’t even say ‘I told you so’.”

“Thanks.” His lips quirk in a reluctant smile. “I’m sorry I’m such a downer.”

“We’re just ignoring you.” Gerard smiles as well and crawls into the back seat, tugging Mikey close. He kisses his forehead and then his cheek and then the tip of his nose. “You’re going to be okay, Mikeyway.”

“I know. I just wish it felt that way.”

“It will.”

“I know that too.” Mikey sighs. “I wish I didn’t feel like shit about that too.”

Gerard guides Mikey’s head down to his lap, petting him, combing his fingers through Mikey’s hair. Mikey feels himself choke slightly, emotion clogging his throat. “It’s going to be okay, Mikes. You and Pete, you’re sweet little dudes, right?”

He nods, closing his eyes tight enough to keep the tears from escaping. “We are.”

“Sweet little dudes last,” Gerard assures him quietly, still petting his hair. “Even when you think things are over, sweet little dudes surprise you.”

He nods again and swallows hard. He doesn’t recognize his own voice. “Thanks, Gee.”

Gerard doesn’t answer, but that’s okay. Mikey’s pretty sure there’s nothing else to say.

Edited 2011-07-08 02:01 (UTC)

*flails* Thank you, this is awesome. :D

I don't know if you know, but Gerard has *always* been Mikey's older brother. Ugh. WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYS

I want you to write Gerard and Mikey always.

I ached for Mikey and how badly he was missing Pete, and loved that Gerard stayed there, comforting as much as he could.

“I know that too.” Mikey sighs. “I wish I didn’t feel like shit about that too.”

Yeah :(

This is fabulous.

I was thinking about this, and it just seems like 99% of the postSoL stuff is Pete POV/Pete-centric, and I just wanted to know how Mikey felt about the whole thing. WOES.

This is so sad and lovely. I love the way you write the Way being brothers!

Gerard is worried about his Mikeyway. He doesn't like it when he is sad.

"I know that too.” Mikey sighs. “I wish I didn’t feel like shit about that too.”

That's a great line and this is really sweet. . .

Thanks so much! I love the way they're just *brothers*. Ugh.

Ways being awesome and brotherly makes me so happy, you have no idea.
I love this. <3

BROTHERS. I kind of love them when they take care of each other, protect each other. UGH.

:-( Poor Mikey. I really liked Gee in this. He's so soft and there is hair-petting! Great!

Gerard doesn't like his baby brother to be sad.

Poor sad Mikey. So lucky to have his bro there. SOOOOO sweet ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Gerard makes even really bad stuff better. BROS.

Owwww. In an awesome way, of course. *pets Mikey*

Broooooooooooooooooooooooooothers. &Ways;

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

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.”

I LOVE YOU. THIS IS MORE THAN I HOPED FOR. GAAAAAAABE. :D

They are such boyfriend. Complete and utter idiots, but boyfriends. <3333

Uhm...yes! \o/
Like, seriously, hot and beautiful and...yes.
I miss them and I love this. <3
“Don’t remember really. But I totally won.” Oh, Beckett.

Beckett's pretty sure he wins everything. Given that he ends up in bed with Gabe, he's not wrong.

This is amazing. Hot and funny and the last line is a killer.

Also, finger kissing *___*

Gabe is being slow and thorough. It's possible that William would be absolutely okay with him just fucking him.

Fantastic and so very very them - that last line just *makes* the story!

Thank you so much! I kind of love them and all of their hot ridiculousness a lot.

*hearts in eyes*
My face right now, pretty much; *______*
this is so perfectly them &hearts,

I'm glad you liked it! They're pretty darn awesome and I kind of love them, no lies.

They were my first bandom OTP, but sadly not as big a ship as some of the others, so whenever I find fic as lovely as this, I just flail and squeak happily :D thank you!

<3 Glad to be of service! :)

That last line was killer. Hot and funny - the perfect combination.

Thank you so much! Ugh. I love them together.

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

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.

Excellent! I really like that Victoria is the instigator.

Thanks! It's my personal canon that Victoria either instigates, or comes up with, nearly every evil plan. No one expects the evil from such a pretty face, you know?

Awesome! :D Yay Victoria. ;)

Haha, thanks! Your prompt made me happy, it needed to be filled (:

You go Victoria!

"Whoa," He says, eyes wide as he watches Alex and Nate making out while Ryland works at their clothing

I love that mental image *___*

Victoria \o/

Oh man, I actually rewrote that like, 3 or 4 times. You'd be amazed the kind of combinations you can achieve with three guys...

But thank you!

Dr D./Show Pony, lazy morning.

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.

Oh, bb. This is awesome.

I love the use of names and the whole thing is so descriptive.

Steve doesn't like any time of the day, if his constant grumbling is to be believed.

That made me laugh and the last line is just beautiful. The whole thing in fact ♥

This is lovely!! I love the way you write them together. And the last line sentence is just perfection!

Truefax: *________* <----my face. I seriously LOVE this. The characters-within-the-characters bits, the fact that the harsh reality of the Killjoys 'verse accentuates the overall sweetness between Ricky and Steve. And, of course, Ricky being, well, Ricky.

My favourite quote:

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.

AWWWWWW!

Thank you for filling my prompt! :D!

♥

Oh, this was lovely and sweet and the feeling of safety.

Their first kiss

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.”

“Right. “ Gerard shoves his hands in his pockets, obviously uncomfortable. Patrick imagines that the inside of the pockets are lined with stray buds of tobacco, littered out of broken cigarettes. “So.”

“So.” Patrick nods and sits down next to him. “You can smoke if you want. I mean, it’s not like we don’t live with Joe’s secondhand smoke.”

“No, it’s okay.” He shifts on the couch and takes his hands out of his pockets, rubbing them on his thighs. “You don’t smoke.”

“No. Fucks up my throat.”

“Right. I shouldn’t smoke, but if I didn’t smoke, I’d probably go in-fucking-sane. I mean, even more than I am from the whole detoxing thing. Which is considerable. I mean, if my band is anything to go by. I mean, they’re awesome. They’re super supportive and totally there for me, and I get it that Mikey needs a break and Pete’s a great guy for him to take a break with, because he doesn’t want to get out of the practice of dealing with crazy people, but Pete’s totally crazy in a good way.” He pauses for a breath, seemingly surprised that he’d said anything at all. “I don’t talk to a lot of people these days.”

“That’s cool.”

“I mean, it’s like when my friend, Cara, had a baby? She talked and talked all day, but it was baby talk and so she had no idea how to behave around real people, so she just kept going, because she hadn’t been around an adult all day, and I’m doing it too, even though I’m around adults, because everyone sort of treats me like I’m a kid because they’re afraid I’m going to…” He shuts up instantly, but only because Patrick leans in and presses his mouth to Gerard’s. At first it’s a strange sensation, like he’s trying to keep talking even through the kiss, but then he opens his mouth, and it’s warm and sweet and there’s a tang of bitterness from the tobacco, a hint of chocolate that surprises him.

He pulls back after a timeless time, blinking at Gerard, finding himself staring into wide, confused eyes. He’s sure he looks equally as startled. “Um.”

“You kissed me.” It’s half question and half statement, and Patrick just shrugs, unsure what else to do.

“I did.”

“Why did you do that?”

“You were kind of rambling.”

“So, what? Kissing is the new way to shut someone up? You must kiss Pete a lot.”

“I don’t kiss Pete. He kisses me, but not to shut up.”

Gerard nods slowly, pressing his fingers to his lips. “But you kissed me. To shut me up.”

“No.” Patrick shakes his head. “I mean, yes. I kissed you.”

“But not… Oh.” He blushes and runs his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing up slightly. “Oh.”

Patrick has to smile, reaching out to smooth out Gerard’s hair. “Yeah.” He leans in to kiss him again. “Oh.”

Awww, I love rambling!Gerard and observant!Patrick. The last line is super sweet. :D!

Thank you so much! They're adorable and dorky. ♥

I want a million fics about them. A million, because they're adorable! Adorable.
This is great.

They really are. Pete was good training for Patrick getting into the business of Gerard.

♥ _ ♥

I think I've just found a new crossover pairing to love.

There's so many awesome lines in this, especially in Gerard's ramble and Patrick going in for the kiss. Then smoothing Gerard's hair. Hearts in my eyes!

They are pretty adorable. Ridiculous and likely to experience disaster, but adorable. Glad you liked it, darling!

Hearts in my eyes!!! This is so sweet and you've written them both exactly the way I imagine them!! I want all the Patrick/Gerard fic in the world! :-)

They are ridiculously adorable.

Lovely:-) I love this pairing, and you wrote it so well - Gerard rambling, and Patrick taking control. Great!

Thank you so much! They're kind of adorable. And Patrick is used to having to take control of rambling, excitable guys. He just likes the kissing with this one.

Sweet!

Thank you!

Saying goodbye is hard to do.

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.

Oh man. Just. Wow.

That is so powerful, and painful, and yet reads in a beautiful way. Where Jon leaving is something that has to happen, and we're all aware that in many ways he doesn't want to go at all.

Love your little details too, and that last kiss. Gah. I love this. Thank you!

yr welcome, bb! the TYV "hiatus" is something that nags at me, narratively, so the prompt grabbed me right away.

Oh my heart - this is so *sad*. . .It's beautifully done, but it broke me a little bit. . .

*proffers tape* I hope they fix whatever is wrong someday too.

Prompt: Kissing in cold weather is a whole production.

"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."

This is so sweet! I love them.

I'm picturing Frank's fight with his scarf and it's hilarious! They are very cute.

<3333333

That is so adorable! I'm sitting here with the biggest grin right now.

One little kiss :D \o/

So cute and funny!

AWWWW! Frank "rewarding" himself and Mikeyway being all "???". Hee! I *do* wonder what Mikeyway's plans are (vis a vis the scarf).

In short, \BOYS!/.

Thank you very much for filling my prompt. :D!

♥

Awww, that's so cute!

Thanks! :)

OM, YOU'VE KILLED ME DED WITH TEH CUTE! I'm all ♥_____♥ about this! Frank's expression (he kinda looks like he's pursing his lips, no?) and Mikeyway sorta angling his head for the kiss. LE SIGH.

Might even make it my cellphone wallpaper! You ROCK like the rockingest uber-awesome person you are. ALL THE CUPCAKES FOR YOU!

hahaha yay, i'm glad you liked it. TOTALLY about to smooch it up. <3

...the Shark has been begging begging BEGGING for rainbow cupcakes the last few days... SO that works out well! :P

So cute!

\o/ :)

Oh my goodness. That is amazing. I love it, especially Mikey pulling down Frank's scarf ♥

thanks! <3

That's so cute and cool! I love how we could pick out Frank of an eyebrows lineup by now *g*

Haha, agreed. Him & Spencer Smith. :D

Oh this is SO sweet! I really love the color work, they look so cold (and happy!)

oh man, thx! i'm trying to get better at colouring. :D

Frank/Gabe/Gerard, snuggling. . .

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.”

Edited 2011-07-08 02:06 (UTC)

Eeee -- I love this! I like that it's set in the early days and the banter feels spot on. And the end is adorable. . .Thank you!

Glad you enjoyed. You know the three of them had contests to see who could be the biggest asshole. Winner got boss the other two around that night. NOM.

You *know* it. . .::goes to my happy place::

They are so disgusting and filthy, and I love that!

The banter is spot on and I just love how there's no pretence between them. Just three men in a filthy van who're about to get it on :D

Van days = disgusting. They haven't seen the inside of a shower in *weeks*, since that night they all lined up outside the shower at the house of the friend of a friend of a friend of Heath's and all took turns hosing off.

They have the van to *themselves*. That's like nirvana.

Dirty, bantering boys!!! I love how snarky and unappologetic they are. And Gabe kissing Gerard's nose will never not be adorably sweet!

Gabe appreciates being allowed to be kind of a dick around them. Not having to worry about how he says things or what he says. They just all roll with the punches. Or nose kisses. Whatever happens.

Filthy boys on tour is a genre unto itself! Love it :D

Dirty, smelly boys who like each other. YUM.

Mobile den of sin! ♥

I am TOTALLY INTRIGUED by these three, and the easy familiarity they have with each other here. MORE PLEASE :D?

I really liked how they all sort of fell together in this. Assholes of the world unite!

oh it's so dirty and asshole-y and fantabulous! I loved it. That kiss below Gabe's earlobe is such a lovely touch in all the messiness of old school van days. ♥

They're all cramped and dirty and smelly and gross and assholes and boys. UGH. I love them.

Hee. Mobile den of sin. I need a Frank/Gee/Gabe icon...

That would be an awesome icon. Like little stacked dolls. Wee!Frank fits inside middle-sized!Gee fits inside super-tall!Gabe. ♥

Mikey/Ray, cuddles and make outs!

"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.

REFUUUUUUUSE ♥!
love love love :D
xo

That sounds like the bed kind of lazy day, and I really like the idea of them crammed into one small bed.

♥

I like the lazy atmosphere of this piece.

Mmmmm. Yes.

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

"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."

He starts to get up, but Mikey's hand lands on his knee, so he stops, staying seated.

"What about, like, frenching?" Mikey asks, not making eye contact.

"Oh." Gerard hadn't thought of that. "Okay, yeah. Um. Sure, we can." He wiggles around on the bed a little until he's facing Mikey more and leans in, cupping Mikey's cheek. "Just like, breathe through your nose, relax your mouth and like, follow my lead, okay?" Gerard's voice is coming out all breathless and little rushed.

Mikey gives the barest nod, his expression very serious, like he's going to be tested on this later. Then he tilts his head the same way Gerard tilted it for him before and closes his eyes. Gerard keeps his eyes open a beat longer, stuck looking at the curve of Mikey's eyebrow, the way his eyelashes look dark against his cheeks, then he leans in and kisses him again.

It's different this time. Before it was like Mikey was getting kissed, but now it's like, they're kissing and Gerard likes it way too much. Mikey's lips are soft and warm under his and when Gerard's lips move on his, he moves back, mimicking Gerard. Gerard slides a hand up to rest lightly on Mikey's shoulder, then he licks gently into Mikey's mouth.

The throaty noise Mikey makes vibrates against Gerard's mouth and sends warmth all down his body. Then Mikey hesitantly licks into Gerard's mouth and Gerard makes his own appreciative noise in reply.

Fuck, Mikey's a quick study, echoing Gerard's own licks and nibbles, sucking on Gerard's lower lip before stroking Gerard's tongue with his own again. Gerard forgets the lesson part of the equation, his brain switches off completely and his body - hot and alive - takes over. Just kissing, really kissing and it's good. Slow, wet and hot.

It's when Gerard's hand has gone from lightly resting on Mikey's shoulder to gripping tight enough to hurt, and his dick is starting to take an interest in the proceedings, that he realises they should stop. He leans back, and Mikey goes with him at first, chasing his mouth until Gerard pulls back far enough that they have to separate.

He stays leaned back, breathing hard, his eyes still closed, just trying to centre himself for a moment before he's ready to see Mikey again.

"Gee?" Mikey sounds unsure.

Gerard opens his eyes. Mikey's colour is high and his mouth is slightly open, lips wet. His glasses are crooked. "Was that okay?" Mikey's voice is rough, and he sounds painfully unsure.

"Yeah. Yeah. Shit yeah, Mikey. That was-" Gerard has to take a breath, the words are coming too fast for his mouth to make them. "That was good. You're good at this."

"Yeah?" There's a smile hovering at the edge of Mikey's mouth.

"Yeah." Gerard agrees, letting his own lips pull into a grin, which pulls Mikey's mouth into a proper smile, white teeth showing.

Gerard slides his hand up to ruffle Mikey's hair. Mikey scrunches his nose up and brushes it back into it's birdsnest shape.

"So. You okay?" Gerard asks, cocking his head to the side to assess his brother. Mikey looks fine. Better than fine, really.

"Yeah. Thanks Gee."

"Cool." Gerard gets up, feet dragging on the carpet as he makes for his desk in the corner, no real plan for what to do, just needing to move around.

"Gee, do you think... I mean." Mikey hesitates and Gerard turns around, trying to figure out what he's trying to say. "I could use more practise, right?"

There's something so unsure in Mikey's expression, and it's a shock to Gerard to find so much of what he's feeling reflecting back at him in Mikey's eyes. Hesitant. Unsure. But wanting.

Gerard wants too.

He walks back over to the bed to sit beside Mikey again, heart hammering under his ribs. "Well, sure. I mean. You can always use more practise, right?"

Mikey smiles, then leans in and kisses him.

ALL THE PRACTICE! MIKEY NEEDS ALL THE PRACTICE, and then tests to make sure he's learnt his lesson, and then regualar refresher courses!

\o/ Thanks! :D

Hehehehe. You are evil and you're totally responsible for robbing me of my Waycest virginity. Be proud.

:D

As soon as I saw this prompt I was desperate for someone to fill it, and holy hell, you did it well.

I love everything about this. How you described Mikey and the trust between them and how clinical it is at first, until it isn't in the slightest.

And of course Mikey needs more practice. The more the better!

Also, hi Barbara.

Ha, I had the exact same reaction to the prompt, except of course I had to write the damn thing! It's terribly obvious that I have a thing for this trope isn't it?

HI BARBARA.

Also I love that

romanticalgirl wrote one with the roles switched. There can never be enough of this kind of thing.

Thank you for the lovely feedback and also for hosting this meme. It's bringing me so much joy!

\o/

Awww, that was so sweet. Fluffy, innocent Waycest - I didn't think that was possible :-)

Ahahahahaa I love that my first attempt at Waycest came out all innocent sounding, I didn't plan it that way! Heee. Thanks my dear!

YUM. I love the innocence of it, but at the same time it's got this undercurrent that just flares up with heat. So good.

I love that you wrote the same prompt but flipped the roles - now there is a matched set. LOVE IT.

Ahhh innocent, so not what I planned, but yay! Thank you.

Mmmmm. Innocence is its own kind of hot. Or, well, the corrupting of it. Heee.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck WHY IS THAT ENDING RIGHT THERE. I love this, how Gerard reflects about Mikey growing up, how they're both caught up in it so completely. And this:

It's different this time. Before it was like Mikey was getting kissed, but now it's like, they're kissing and Gerard likes it way too much.

Mmmm what an insight. YES. Such great Gerard-voice too. UNF.

aww, so hot, so innocent. Mikey's hesitant question at then end... they should totally practice some more ;-)
♥ loved it!

*gulp*

*fans self*

*melts*

I love the teaching fic trope. Didn't realize that until right now. Thank you!

Gerard’s sixteen when he meets Barbara, and it’s suddenly very important that he knows how to do all the things he has no idea how to do. Things like kissing and unhooking a bra and touching girls. He’s practiced as well as he can by himself, making out with his hand and his arm and his pillow and stealing one of Elena’s bras and putting it on himself and practicing taking it off. He’s watched movies, so he knows where to touch and how the girl’s supposed to react, but he’s pretty sure that he’s going to get laughed at pretty seriously before he even gets that far.

The answer, of course, is Mikey. Mikey’s pretty much always the answer to Gerard’s problems, since Mikey knows everything and everyone, even though he’s only a middle-schooler. He’s thirteen going on scene queen, and Gerard goes to him like the guru he is.

“I have a problem.”

“I don’t know who to ask to kill Deon for you.”

“No, not that problem.” He frowns. “Though that would be awesome. But it’s not that problem.”

“Oh.” Mikey pushes up his glasses, which promptly slide right back down to the tip of his nose. “What then?”

“You know Barbara.”

Mikey nods. Barbara’s in the scene and Mikey knows everyone in the scene, or at least knows of them. “Yeah.”

“I want to make out with her.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t know how.”

There’s a silence, which from anyone else would be damning, but from Mikey, it’s just contemplative. “Yeah, okay.” He shifts on his bed, closer to Gerard. They’re both sitting cross-legged, knees touching, face to face. No one’s home but Elena, and she’s down in the kitchen making Goulash and smoking cigarettes and watching her soap operas. “Does she want to make out with you?”

“She said it could happen.”

“That’s easier.” He nods and holds up his hand. “Girls like to touch, be touched.” He reaches out, letting his fingers slide along Gerard’s jaw. Gerard catches his breath at the light touch, Mikey’s fingers are long and delicate and barely brush his skin. “Start off slow. Learn the territory.”

“Slow.” Gerard nods, his eyes closing as Mikey’s fingers touch him. “Right. I can do slow.” There is no way in hell he can do slow. He’s sporting a boner just thinking about kissing her, he’s going to probably maul her face like a tiger.

“Slow.” Mikey leans in, and Gerard can feel breath on his lips, the soft sound Mikey makes as his lips part just a little. “Nice and slow.”

Gerard closes the distance – inches, maybe, if that – and presses his lips to Mikey’s. His own lips are separated, mouth open to taste Mikey’s breath. Mikey’s fingers curve against Gerard’s cheek and then they’re kissing. It’s warm and cool at the same time, mingling breath and his blood pounding in his ears. Mikey’s tongue slips out, touching his tentatively, and he gives up all pretense of control, catching it in his mouth and sucking on it, deepening the kiss.

Mikey groans, and Gerard likes the sound, likes that he made it happen. Barbara’s all but forgotten as he slides a thumb along Mikey’s cheekbone, shifting up onto his knees, pushing Mikey back onto the bed. Mikey goes easily, and Gerard follows him down, overwhelmed and not thinking about anything but heat and taste and more.

Mikey makes another sound then, as Gerard shifts on top of him. It’s a gasp and something else that Gerard understands immediately as he feels Mikey’s erection press hard against his. Everything bombards him at once and he pulls away, gasping himself, trying to find a breath somewhere deep in his chest. “I think…” Mikey rubs his mouth with his hand, and Gerard doesn’t even have to look closely to realize he’s shaking. “I think you’re good.”

“Good,” Gerard nods, trying to slip off the bed without it being obvious that he’s just as hard as Mikey, that moving away is the last thing he wants to do. “For kissing. Barbara. Girls. Yes. Good.” He nods again, like a bobblehead doll that Uncle Preston has in the back of his Lincoln Continental as he makes his way to the door. “Absolutely good.”

That is ridiculously hot. It makes sense to me that it's Mikey who's doing the teaching, and that what happens seems to do so very naturally, and not by design.

He’s sporting a boner just thinking about kissing her, he’s going to probably maul her face like a tiger.

That made me laugh so much.

bb!Gerard who is new to this whole *girl* thing just makes me smile. Also, you know Mikey would be *so* good and careful teaching Gerard, making sure Gerard could be the BEST kisser, because Gerard is the best at *everything*.

Oh, poor Barbara, you just got yourself a place in slasher canon! *g*

I love Mikey the 13 yr old scene guru! :D

Barbara wants to stab Gerard with a paint brush. Or she's regretting going to Greece like crazy.

Mikey knows everyone. Always has. He's just that guy.

Awww, that's both strangely innocent and super hot. And of course Gerard goes to Mikey, Mikey knows everything! Even at 13 :-)

Who else would Gerard go to?

Jesus. UNF.

“Slow.” Gerard nods, his eyes closing as Mikey’s fingers touch him. “Right. I can do slow.” There is no way in hell he can do slow. He’s sporting a boner just thinking about kissing her, he’s going to probably maul her face like a tiger.

Such a perfect combination of hot and hilarious. ♥!

(I also LOVE this idea of Gerard going to MIKEY. mmmmm)

Edited 2011-07-10 20:34 (UTC)

Where else would Gerard go? Mikey knows everyone. Everything. Mikey's awesome.

Gerard would be all tongue at first and Barbara would be all "I want to kiss you, not drown."

aww, the balance between their brotherly relationship and the surprise and hotness of the kiss is really well done!

"He’s thirteen going on scene queen, and Gerard goes to him like the guru he is." This line makes me happy, honestly!!! :-)

I kind of love them. I love the ease and simplicity of their relationship, and how that can mask something deeper for them both. Thank you so much!

Uh. I'll be in my bunk. Yeah.

WAYS! Ugh. I love them.

Mmmmmmm very tasty..... If I were a guy I'd have a boner right now too lol

Heeee. Gerard is going to have a boner FOREVER.

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

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.

Guh!

That is just gorgeous. I'd quote but every word is my favourite *___*

Thank you!

Hee. Thanks, bb!

Hi bb! This is love. <3

Thanks, sweetie!

Nice!!

Thank you!

There’s something about Mikey’s neck that he fixates on, something about the long and slender stretch of skin, the delicate arch of it when he tilts it back and surrenders. Right now it’s post-surrender, and William is watching the frantic beat of Mikey’s pulse slow back to normal. He’s decorated with perspiration, glowing in the soft light of the bedside lamp. William traces a line from Mikey’s chin to the hollow of his throat, scratching lightly at the bump of his Adam’s apple.

Mikey shivers and moves closer to William, his pulse stuttering and picking up again. His throat is sensitive and William can’t help but take advantage, leaving small scratches and scrapes, bright pink lines that fade before Mikey leaves. “Please.”

He should resist, he knows. They’ve already been in bed for hours, working each other over. He has scratches of his own and there are fingerprint bruises on Mikey’s hips, both of their bodies slick with sweat and spit and come. He doesn’t, of course. He can’t. He curves his hand around the base of Mikey’s throat and leans in, teeth scraping the hint of stubble on Mikey’s jaw.

Mikey moans and his lips stay parted, his head tilted just right so that the palm of William’s hand settles a hint of pressure. William feels Mickey’s breath catch and he presses down just a bit harder, deliberate and steady as he moves his mouth down, sucking wet, red spots onto Mikey’s throat. His tongue traces pulses and perspiration, sucking and biting and kissing until Mikey’s whimpering and writhing beneath him, his cock half hard again.

These marks will last and William pulls back just enough to admire them. Mikey’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling rapidly under William’s gaze. “G-good?” He asks softly, his voice raw.

William nods and leans in to kiss him, to press their bodies together. “Perfect.”

Oh god. That's just. Wow.

I have shivers here. The marks on his neck, and William taking advantage.

I love those two so much.

NOM NOM NOM. They are the hottest and dirtiest. I kind of love them.

It suddenly got *very* warm in here! GUH.

I don't know why, but every time I write these two together, they get very *very* hot and dirty. I'm not complaining, mind you.

The pairing I didn't know I wanted... *sigh*

I LOVE THEM. They always end up super hot and super dirty. BEST.

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

"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.

This is so great! MAKE OUT BUDDIES HIGH FIVING.

Haha, thanks so much! Glad it worked for you :D

YES! That is the kind of Frank/Mikey story I love so much.

The casual making out and Gerard so horrified and I love everything about it!

Yay! That's always nice to hear :) thanks, and thank you for running this whole thing, too! ♥♥♥

" – 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."

*falls over laughing* They are awesome. This is awesome!

Hee, thanks so much! I can never tell when I write something whether it's actually remotely funny or not /o\ Glad you enjoyed it! :D

ahahah, oh man ♥ revenge kisses ftw!
i love this bb *smush*

ty, bb! ♥♥♥
Revenge kisses = ALWAYS ftw. Glad you enjoyed it! :)

Oh, THEM. :D :D :D

Aren't they just? :D :D :D

I'm laughing so hard right now and I should be asleep.
Love this.
Also this: 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
Because he would.

\o/! That's exactly what I was aiming for :D haha, glad you enjoyed it! ♥

CONTAGIOUS

♥ ♥ ♥

(here is an icon of Mikeyway expressing his opinion of any kind of commitment)

THAT IS EXACTLY THE FACE. &MIKEYWAY;

♥

Ha!

Thanks! :)

FULL OF HEARTS FOR THIS OMG. ♥_____♥

YAY \o/ Thanks, bb! :D :D :D

AHHHHH YES. This is exactly the kind of shit-stirring make-outs I would expect of these two. Ugh, I would read SO MANY FICS in this universe :D

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

"My eyes," says Gerard faintly.

Mikey slaps Frank a triumphant high-five.

♥

Thank youuuuu! ♥ And, ack, you shouldn't have said that \o/ NOW I WANT TO WRITE SO MANY MORE FICS IN THIS 'VERSE.

This put a huge grin on my face; thank you!

Haha, thank you! Glad to hear that :)

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

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.

So he falls asleep with dreams of lips, soft smooth lips pressing against his own, a tongue slipping in between sliding against his and then he’s falling. And when Frank wakes up, boy is that a metaphor he can agree with because it seems all Frank’s been doing his entire life is dreaming and falling.

He wakes up and Mikey is making pancakes. Frank’s favorite, the kind with the dark chocolate chips that Mikey and the guys don’t even like because they think they’re too bitter and mess with the flavor of the syrup. Frank has a moment of sheer panic before Mikey turns with lost eyes.

“They were Pete’s favorite. I- I don’t know why I made them,” And Frank’s a little stung and a little relieved at the same time, “did you- I don’t remember getting in bed last night.”

“Yeah. I-I found you passed out in the back lounge,” it was a bold face lie, Frank knew, but it was a necessary one, “I dragged you to your bunk.”

“Oh,” Mikey says, “Oh, good.”

So Mikey watches Frank eat the pancakes he made, then they pop a bag of popcorn, steal Bob’s M&Ms and stay in the back lounge until Gerard calls them out for pizza and a game of Magic. Wash, rinse, and repeat for longer than Frank cares to keep track of.

(this part is only so short because any other cut would've been extremely awkward, sorry)

Things go back to normal and eventually they’re back in clubs, for after-show parties hanging out with Taking Back Sunday, and Frank sits at the bar and watches just like always only Mikey’s not hooking up. At all. He’s just sitting and watching Frank, and it feels a bit like the tables are turned. He can feel Mikey’s eyes on him all the time, during shows, afterwards on the bus, while meeting fans. It’s throwing him off balance. He’s starts avoiding Mikey, and he stays confused, until Mikey corners him on his cigarette break after a show.

“I do remember you know,” Frank choked on the smoke he was inhaling, “I was giving you an out. I was letting you make the decision on whether or not it could be a regular thing, if we could be a thing.”

“Fuck you, Mikey, what friends with benefits? I can’t do that, okay. Look I get if you want to leave the club scene behind, but I’m not going to be your easy fuck just because you’re done chancing it with dirty STD ridden boys in the back of shitty bars. I’m easy for you Mikey, but not like that. Please, not like that,” but Frank knew if Mikey asked one more time he’d fall like a house of cards. Frank was good at saying No to everyone except Mikey Way.

“Friends with-Look I don’t know why you’re being such a dick about this, that’s not -”

“I’m not being a dick about it. You used me for a rebound fuck, Mikey, sorry if I don’t know the proper etiquette to employ when your best friend uses you as a blow-up doll and then pretends to not remember the next morning.” He didn’t sound angry. He sounded cold, bitter and hurt.

“You weren’t just a rebound fuck, Frank. That’s not what that was about.” Mikey countered, sad sounding, like Frank was the one who didn’t get it.

“You were drunk and missing Pete, and I was the only one on the bus that wouldn’t knock you out if you tried something. I guess the fact that I look like him helped too, lucky for you, you have your ex’s look-alike available at all times.”

“Pete had nothing to do with it! Well he did but not in the way you think, why are you so quick to assume it didn’t mean anything, that you didn’t mean anything.”

“You didn’t kiss me!” Frank yelled out, and maybe that’s been the problem all along, “You never kiss your shitty bar hookups ever, you only ever kissed Pete, only the ones that matter. You came into my bunk, stuck your hand down my pants and never once kissed me. I’ve been watching you since I was 19 Mikey, I know what it means, okay?”

Mikey was on him in an instant, pushing him back against the cold brick wall. Mikey’s hands were on Frank’s hips squeezing, as Mikey pulled himself closer. His lips found Frank’s sliding over, Frank’s lips chapped and rough from the cold, Mikey’s impossibly soft and sweet tasting. Then Mikey’s slipping his tongue into Frank’s mouth, and Frank’s knees are giving out along with his brain because this can’t be happening. Frank’s been convincing himself it would never happen since he joined the band, and that can’t be Mikey’s lips on his, and those aren’t Mikey’s hands at his waist, because he’s been waiting for this for a long time, longer than he’s ever waited for anything.

Mikey pulls away, resting his forehead on Frank’s before whispering breathlessly, “You will always matter. You have always mattered, Frank. More than anyone else and I’m sorry for keeping you waiting for so long.”

Frank wrapped his arms around Mikey’s necked and pulled him down again for another kiss then one sloppier and more frantic. A kiss filled with need and want and passion. Frank’s going to learn all of Mikey’s kisses, one by one, he has a lot to catch up on, so why not start now.

AN: Sorry the ending is kind of awkward and clunky, I might come back and do a much longer rewrite, because I like this. Kinda. I'll probably hate it tommorow.

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

Dude, no need to apologize! Because, seriously, you've written the exact fic I was wishing someone would write when I posted this prompt. Yeah, really. A little bit of angst (because, if Frank's been waiting a long time, that means that he's been wanting to kiss/be kissed by Mikeyway for a while) and lots of pining (which I ADORE) and, of course, that sweet and totally believable ending.

My favourite quote:

Things go back to normal and eventually they’re back in clubs, for after-show parties hanging out with Taking Back Sunday, and Frank sits at the bar and watches just like always only Mikey’s not hooking up. At all. He’s just sitting and watching Frank, and it feels a bit like the tables are turned. He can feel Mikey’s eyes on him all the time, during shows, afterwards on the bus, while meeting fans. It’s throwing him off balance. He’s starts avoiding Mikey, and he stays confused, until Mikey corners him on his cigarette break after a show.

I really dug this twist. Frank being all O_O about Mikeyway keeping an eye on him AT ALL TIMES. ♥

I hope you don't hate this fic tomorrow because you seriously have made my day. Thank you VERY MUCH for filling my prompt. :D!

I felt really bad afterwards about the fact that I wrote fic for a Kissing meme that was mostly about not kissing. But I'm really glad you enjoyed it.:D

You'd better not hate this because it's so good!

I loved this so much, Frank wanting Mikey so badly, and then having to watch him go off with Pete. And then the sex scene, my heart broke for him thinking he was a rebound fuck only.

Thank goodness Mikey showed that wasn't the case.

Ow, ow, ow! So painfull and so lovely :-) At first I saw only the first part and you broke my heart, but luckily you put it back together when I saw the next bits :-) Really liked this, thanks for sharing.

Excellent! I really like how they're not getting how the other is thinking of their hook up. Frank's anger at the end was really perfectly done the way he's hurt and lashing out and obviously trying to make Mikey like he is while Mikey is stumbling through why Frank is angry.

♥

asdfghjkl;

I loved this so much. I can't form a proper comment right now other than "THIS WAS AMAZING." and "I WANT MORE" Oh jeez. I really loved this.

Frankie's emotions.... Frankie knowing Mikey's pattern. I can't make sense right now.

Oh, that was very well done and nice. I love unrequited love fics.

Welcome home.

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.

OMG you wrote sex! HET SEX! *goes to read*

Dude. DUDE! I've had the strongest craving for het in the last days and this was awesome. I did have to re-read it twice to find the kiss, you sneaky you, but it's not like it was a hardship *fans self*

WELL DONE!

I did write het sex!

The kiss is very subtle, unlike the rest of it *g*

Thank you.

OMG, OMG, OMG!!!

Um, WOW.

As hot as this was, this paragraph was my favorite:

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.

I'm glad you like it, bb.

I posted and it took a while to even link at the masterlist /o\

I really do think Gerard and Lindsey are an excellent match, and their love for one another is just beautiful.

Oh, gorgeous and HOT and nom nom nom.

Thank you!

OH MY STARS this is hot. I love the awkward little trailing pants leg, the hall wall, the way they just can't wait, Lindsey's whole-body responsiveness... NNNNGH. So perfect.

Thank you!

I love the idea of them just getting through the door and being unable to wait.

HOLY SHIT this is gorgeous.

Ugh it's so tender and so hot, way hotter than I was expecting. I love their familiarity and just how present their love for each other is. UNF delicious

Thank you!

You know how I get about sex scenes, so I'm really glad you enjoyed ♥

Mmmmm, this is lovely <3

I'm glad you liked. Thank you!

Lovely and hot!

Thank you!

They get to LA in a flurry of press. Radio shows and on-site interview, paparazzi and special events. They’ve got their own concerts and then he gets pegged to sing with Duran Duran, and Ray’s hip deep in the ‘Sing it for Japan’ project, so it’s been a couple of days before he actually has time at home and can realize that’s where he is, that he actually gets to stay there.

Bandit crashes super early, tired out from all the excitement, as well as a half hour of lullabies and nursery rhymes and the latest installment of ‘The Adventures of the kick ass Princess Bandit, Prince Mikey, and Piglet, their trusty steed’. When he walks out of her bedroom, he can see Lindsey on the couch, her dark red hair fanned out over the black armrest. He walks over to her, never looking away, because looking at his wife is one of his most favorite activities in the entire world.

She has her eyes closed, but he can tell when she realizes he’s close, because she smiles and then sticks her tongue out at him. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“I remember the last time I took pictures.” His voice is rough from all the work he’s been putting it through, but there’s an depth to it, a warmth that he sees shiver through her.

She opens her eyes and reaches up, her fingers tangling with his. “Come here.” She tugs him down, and he goes easily, willingly. He sinks to his knees and crawls the last bit to the side of the couch, leaning in to nuzzle her stomach, pushing up her tank top so he can taste the down-soft skin of her abdomen. “M-missed you, you crazy bastard.”

“Missed you more.” He places feathery kisses around her navel and over the soft mound of skin above the waistband of her jeans, following his fingers as he unfastens them and pushes the denim apart. She makes little noises and lifts herself up on her heels, arching off the cushions for him as his tongue snakes down under the waistband of her panties.

“M-missed you most.” She laughs, the sound shaky and inviting and she combs her fingers through his hair. He turns his head and glances at her, seeing how he feels about her reflected in her eyes. “Come up here and kiss me, baby.”

He nods and crawls up onto the couch, onto her, fitting into the cradle of her body. “I love you.”

She nods and tugs his head down to hers, whispering against his mouth before kissing him again. “Welcome home.”

Their relationship is just beautiful, and you show their love so well.

Also, the adventures of the kick ass Princess Bandit, Prince Mikey, and Piglet, their trusty steed \o/

That is the best bedtime story ever. And they're on Adventure 769 1/2, but only because she wanted to hear the Super Fantastic Ice Cream Volcano for a month and a half straight.

Ugh. I love family, and I love them being in love. It's just so great.

That's really gorgeous. . .Just the right blend of domesticity and sex!

Thank you so much! I love that they love each other, that they're in love with each other, kind of crazy, desperately so. Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamily.

Aww, this is so nice and happy-making!

Yay! Thank you!

So sweet and so lovely.

This line is wonderful: His voice is rough from all the work he’s been putting it through, but there’s an depth to it, a warmth that he sees shiver through her.

Ugh, they are both so present in this. I can feel the love radiating from it. SO sweet.

I just kind of love how much they so obviously are in love, and how happy and easy they are together. I know it's not a bed of roses (or maybe it is, complete with thorns like any other marriage), but it's a beautiful, beautiful thing.

This is just beautiful. Love the ending, with them fitting together - literally AND figuratively. <3 <3 <3

Thank you so much! I have such love for them as a couple.

So beautiful, just like Gerard and Lyn-Z. Awesome!

I kind of love them together, it's true! Thank you!

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

**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.

Wow.

That is ridiculously hot.

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.

Guh. Yes!

:D

I'm grinning all over the place.

I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH.

Subverse loves you more x x

NNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH. X_______X

Thank you for calling, s0ck will return your message as soon as she recovers from being DEAD OF HOTNESS.

Mmmm. Yeah.

Festivals mean sitting around for hours and then performing an abbreviated set and then getting on the road to do it again. He’s usually hitting his stride right about the time they have to wrap it up, and it’s more frustrating than he likes to admit. He hasn’t asked if they all feel that way, but he’s the only one taking it out on the X-box, so maybe it’sjust him. It’s been a couple of weeks now, and the bus and hotel accomodations kind of suck, so he and Ray are protesting by growing beards or, in his case, extra-long sideburns.

Ray slumps down next to him and sighs, picking up the spare controller then putting it down before joining in the game. “Fuck, man.”

Mikey crooks an eyebrow and nods slightly, acknowledgement of whatever it is that ails him. “Yep.”

“We have any cookies?”

“Nope.” Mikey uses a missle launcher to decimate a small cell of rebels hiding behind a copse of trees. “Frank and Gee stole the last of the Oreos to play poker.”

“Damn.” Ray sighs and slumps down on the sofa, shifting a little to rest his head on Mikey’s arm, careful not to disrupt his aim. “I could do serious damage to some Oreos.”

“There’s a Twix bar hidden in my bunk.”

“What would it cost me?”

Mikey smiles and doesn’t say anything. He loves his band, his brothers, but sometimes more than others. “What do you think?”

Ray huffs a laugh and reaches out to Mikey’s controller, pushing the pause button. Mikey raises his eyebrow again and turns his head, glancing down at Ray. Ray’s eyes are bright with amusement and hot as he turns his head, rubbing his three day’s worth of stubble against Mikey’s arm. Mikey makes a noise and reaches down, cupping Ray’s chin and tilting it, angling his head back so Mikey can lean in and kiss him.

It’s slow and warm, the prickly hairs at the base of Mikey’s lower lip stabbing slightly as Ray shifts, deepening the kiss. His tongue parts Mikey’s lips and Mikey lets his fingers graze lightly over the patchy darkness that covers Ray’s chin and lower cheeks, scratching lightly at his skin. Ray moans low and warm into Mikey’s mouth, his thumb rubbing across Mikey’s cheek and down to the sporadic growth. When he pulls away, Mikey can’t help but lick his lips, chasing the dampness left by Ray’s tongue.

“That’s worth both halves, right?”

Mikey grins and turns the game back on, ducking his head slightly. “No, but you can earn the other one later.”

YES! OH MAN, JUST YES!

Stubbly kisses. Hmmmmm. It's like, one minute I was laughing at Mikey's extra long sideburns and the next was hit with a wave of hot.

I like the way they do business.

I kind of want to write the Mikey's legs spread open and Ray's stubble on his inner thighs part of this too. Maybe after all the kissing is done.

............

Damn! What a visual!

Mikey's inner thighs all stubble-burned is a hot thing.

mmmm, please do ^_^

Maybe after the kisses. So many kisses to write!

Nice!

Thank you!

mmmmmmmmm I really enjoyed this!

Mikey enjoys making Ray work for it a little. Of course, Ray is going to enjoy spreading Mikey's legs and getting stubble burn all over his inner thighs. So, you know, it's a trade off.

There's something about stubble that's just...hot. Yummy.

Mmmmm. Yes. Mikey kind of wants Ray to rub it all over him.

A Bandom Kissing Meme.

Panic, Brendon/Spencer

Fill -- : Panic, Brendon/Spencer

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Panic, Brendon/Spencer

It's Never Enough, part 1

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Panic, Brendon/Spencer

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

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MCR, Frank/Gerard

lipstick kisses, Frank/Gerard

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MCR/FOB, Pete/Mikey

Fill: MCR/FOB, Pete/Mikey

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