green alligators and long necked geese

[schmerica]

1) I am suddenly really enchanted with the image of Uncle Gerard singing Shel Silverstein's Unicorn Song to Mikeyspawn as a lullaby. You guuuuuuuuys. Mikey would be horrified when his kids start cheerfully singing about the horrible massacre all the time. YOU KILLED THEM ALL GERARD, WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT.

(Gee would totally traumatize those kids with his complete lack of ability to determine what is age appropriate and what isn't. And they would love him for it. THE ONLY PEOPLE IN THE WORLD WHO ACTUALLY THINK GEE IS THE COOLEST MOST BAD-ASS PERSON EVER TO LIVE, OMG.)

2) Once again, bandom has taught me something I never would have known otherwise! In the case, that fact that is actually possible to have a portrait of four guys that manages to feature nine different patterns. Every single one of them loud. Every single one of them clashing with every single one of the others. I mean. Dude. That's talent. Talent, and dedication.

I salute you, Panic, I really do. The only thing that could make it better is if you were all in animal costumes-- OH WAIT. NEVERMIND THEN.

3) I *might* have an idea for my bandom big bang. One sentence from LotMS taken out of context is totally justification for a 20,000 word story, what are you talking about?

4) Are any of you guys still up? Wanna play? If you write me a kiss in my comments, I will write you one in return. Bandom, of course.

Edited to add: going to bed at 11pm Pacific time. Any kisses that have already commented will get answered tomorrow, I promise! If you post after this edit, I probably won't get to it.

Comments

[looneyluna.livejournal.com]

I counted 11 patterns. 11. They are excessive boys!

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

I got:

Spencer's blazer and shirt (2)
Ryan's pants/vest and scarf (2)
Brendon's shirt and back of his vest (2)
and Jon's shirt, vest, and neck-thing (3)

Ryan's shirt and Jon and Brendon's pants were inconclusive for me, but I decided to be kind of assume non-patterns.

[sociofemme.livejournal.com]

"Stealth attack!" was Bob's only warning. It wasn't a very stealthy attack, because Frank had yelled when he was still about five paces away. But he was moving fast, the little fucker, and Bob didn't dodge quite fast enough.

Frank landed on his shoulder, laughing. He planted a flurry of messy kisses along the side of Bob's face and when Bob shoved at Frank's face with his hand, Frank kissed that too.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

"Your fucking hair, man," Frank says. He's laughing a little as he struggles with his lighter.

"Whatever," Bob says, taking a placid drag of his own cigarette. "I don't care how much shit you give me, I like it this way. I think it looks good."

"I didn't say it didn't look good!" Frank says, looking up at Bob and shaking his head. "It's awesome. If you go for that evil Viking raider home from the pillaging look."

Bob just rolls his eyes.

"No, for real, man," Frank says. "I like it. It's got its advantages, I mean."

"Like what?" Bob says, suspicious; it sounds like the set-up for another of Frank's stupid jokes.

"Like this," Frank says, and he reaches up and grabs a handful of hair from Bob's shoulders and pulls hard, tugging Bob down till their faces are almost even with each other. He kisses Bob for a long moment before he lets go, and then smiles, sunny and innocent. "Much easier."

[ficsoreal.livejournal.com]

Pete has trained those boys well. \o/!

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Dude, if Pete gets his hands on your early enough, there is never going to be an escape.

This is maybe not the sort of kiss you were looking for!

[warmingweather.livejournal.com]

Mikey and Alicia are curled up on their sofa when Gerard finally stumbles out of the kids' room. "They're asleep," he gasps dramatically. "Finally."

Alicia laughs softly. "What story did you tell them?"

"The story of the littlest vampire, obviously."

"Oh, yeah, that always puts them to sleep," Mikey says sarcastically. "What with the bloodsucking and the death and all. If by puts them to sleep, you mean scares them shitless."

"Just because you get scared by it," Alicia says, and kisses him on the temple. "Night, Gee."

Gerard leans over and she kisses him, too, and he pats Mikey's head gently. "See you in the morning."

"It's nice having you here," Mikey says, and flicks Gerard's chin. "Uncle Gee."

It's not like Gerard's going to admit it, or anything, but he really likes hearing the name. It has a nice ring to it, okay?

Re: This is maybe not the sort of kiss you were looking for!

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Mikey's daughter is four when she interrupts one of Gerard's stories to look at him skeptically and say "Uncle Gee, that's silly. Boys don't kiss other boys."

Gerard is actually struck dumb for a full minute, staring at her. He's going to have to tell Alicia to kick that preschool's ass, he thinks randomly.

"Honey, what are you talking about? Boys kiss other boys all the time. And girls kiss other girls."

She shakes her head firmly. "That's not how it works! Boys kiss girls. And they make babies."

"Well," Gerard says, twisting his mouth around, "I kiss boys. And girls. And silly little nieces who doubt their uncles and have sushi-print jammies." He leans in to tickle her and she shrieks with laughter, flailing wildly. He sneaks into a noisy wet smack to her cheek and she giggles some more.

"You want me to tell the rest of the story, munchkin?" he says, and she nods, eyes bright.

[miss-saigon.livejournal.com]

I am so ashamed, I actually really like Spencer's jacket. He is such utter jailbait and yet the beard is swaying me more and more every day /o\

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Except for Brendon's shirt, none of the patterns is that hideous on its own! It's just the combo that's hilarious.

[looneyluna.livejournal.com]

He's totally over 18. Not jailbait anymore :D

[wordsalone.livejournal.com]

I do too! A lot.

I think mostly because Spencer's the one wearing it. Plus, it's pretty normal...considering.

Brendon/Amanada Palmer

[belladonnalin.livejournal.com]

(I totally counted ten).

"But AMANDA ..." Brendon's trying to wheedle, he really is. It's just that ...

Well, in reality, he doesn't really know how to convince people to kiss him. Like, a year ago? He was best friends with his left and right hands and Skinamax through the static with the sound on low while his parents were sleeping. He'd kissed two girls at a party when he was 14, but other than that?

Nothing.

And now, he doesn't really have to do any convincing at all. It's not that he disrespects groupies or anything, but ... well, making out with band guys is like part of what they do, so he doesn't really have to do much expect stand around, being a band guy. Which is what he is, so.

So.

But Amanda isn't a groupie and she's not the mean girls from his high school. She's goofy and she's older and she's gorgeous and she looks at him fondly and sometimes like something else that might be possibility if he squints and turns his head.

He doesn't know why, but he is pretty sure that if he can talk fast enough or convince or maybe even beg right, she might kiss him.

Which would be awesome. Amazing.

Fucking unreal.

Amanda raises one eyebrow, the swirls that are in place of her eyebrows kind of blurred from sweat and exhaustion and heat. They're prettier that way.

"Brendon, I'm not playing Spin the Bottle," she says, shaking her head and smiling just a little. "I'm about fifteen years too old for that shit."

Well, smiling is a start, even if "no" is not.

"But AMANDA," Brendon prides himself on his perfect balance between whine and suave. He's totally suave. "There are so many guys and not enough girls and it's not like I'M complaining about the guys, but the not-enough-girls? Is a TRAGEDY of Shakespearian proportions."

Amanda actually laughs now, her kind of nasal bark of a laugh that means that it's real.

"A tragedy, huh?" she says, still laughing a little, her chest rising and falling faster than if she weren't amused or turned on or something.

Brendon opens his eyes wide, nodding.

Amanda's gaze softens, something going on behind it that Brendon can't read. It's not pity and it's not lust, it's not bad or good, but there's some kind of possibility there that he's never seen.

He has never, not once, felt his age so strongly as he does now. He's sure that if he were Amanda's age, if he were just 10 years older, he would know what promises or possibilities were behind that look.

As it stands, though, he still doesn't exactly lose.

Amanda leans in, her lips quirking up toward the blush sliding down her cheeks.

"You don't have to make it a game, you know," she says quietly, against his lips, just before she closes her mouth over his.

It's not passionate, but it's not really chaste. There is hot breath against his lips and a quick swipe of tongue before Amanda pulls back, that same totally confusing smile on her face.

"It'll make sense eventually," she promises, turning and picking up her duffel as she walks away.

Re: Brendon/Amanada Palmer

[nova-bright.livejournal.com]

Dude. This is better than anything else ever. Amanda!
I loved the not quite angst feel of this. And Brendon. I too, would confusedly beg a kiss of Amanda Palmer.

[impertinence.livejournal.com]

2) I LOVE THEM SO MUCH, I CAN'T EVNE.

3) oooh.

4)

In the end it's the most unsurprising thing in the world. Frank's thrown himself into the band, into their lives, like he was always there; Ray thinks of Pencey's practice space, Pencey's publicity, and knows he was, in a way. It feels like the last part of a sentence when Frank tilts his head and Ray grabs a fistful of hair, pulling him close and kissing him.

The music of...whoever's party this is pulses around them, giving Ray a rhythm. Frank laughs a little, rubbing against him in counterpoint; they work like this, Ray thinks, and kisses him again, ignoring the people talking to and around them.

"Fuck yeah," Frank says when they pull apart, laughing, his body the same kind of tense it is after one of the many fights Ray pulls him out of.

Ray just nods and pulls him closer.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Drunken Spin the Bottle sounds like way more fun than it actually is, Mikey thinks. Especially when you're not the drunkest person there. Not that Mikey's anywhere near sober, but it's not like anybody can really compete when Gerard and Bert are part of the game.

They already got each other twice, making out for almost a full minute each time, until people started throwing things. Frankie's been kissing fake passionately, completely over the top, wet tongue hanging out of his mouth as he pounces. Making fun of the other guys, not they would notice. Ray rolls his eyes every time he gets a dude and gives kind of wimpy closed mouth kisses to them, but sweeter ones to the crew girls hanging around. The rest of the guys from the Used all seem to be having a ball.

Mikey thinks maybe he's the only one who's not having that great a time.

It's Gerard's turn again, and he almost falls over when he leans in and sets the beer bottle spinning. It goes on for a really long time before it finally stops, pointing right at Mikey. Everybody bursts into laughter, like this is the funniest thing that's ever happened.

"Nice going, Gerard!"

"Hot brother-on-brother action!"

"Okay, okay, redo, redo!"

"Nah," Gerard says, his lip curling into a smile. "We don't need any stinking redo, right, Mikey?" He doesn't even stand up, just crawls across the circle to stop in front of Mikey.

He straddles Mikey's lap and throws his arms around Mikey's neck. The rest of the guys are all still laughing. Mikey looks right into Gerard's eyes. He should say something, but he doesn't.

Gerard licks his lips, and Mikey opens his mouth almost without even realizing it. Gee leans forward and presses their lips together, and his tongue is in Mikey's mouth. Mikey places his hands on Gerard's back, steadying him.

He's not sure how long the kiss is. Probably not very long at all. Gerard breaks away and gasps and falls on his ass on the dirt next to Mikey, and the guys are still making comments, stupid stuff about how gross that was and how Gerard won this round for sure.

Mikey stands up and walks away from the game without looking back.

[ubixtiz.livejournal.com]

You've got to salute Jon Walker. He came late to it, but look at him leading the charge now!

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

He's assimilated so well!

After Chris' first show with Arma. Because I can't NOT write Chris/Pete, sorry. :-(

[forevernew.livejournal.com]

"Dude, you were awesome!" Pete comes bouncing up to Chris. "I mean, duh, of course you were, you are! But man, that was great."

"Hey, I told you, it's about time you got rid of that slacker and - hey!" Tim (the slacker in question) smacks Chris across the back of his head. "Dude, what, you know I love you."

Tim rolls his eyes and turns away, talking to Adam about something indecipherable. Pete slings an arm around Chris' shoulders. "This is just the start, man. You wait, you're gonna be such a star. The whole world's gonna know your name."

"Hey, Chris!" Jay calls out, and Chris turns his head just as Pete goes to plant a kiss on his cheek. The resulting connection lasts less than a second, Pete pulling back and grinning like a crazy man (which, Chris thinks, to be fair...) before bouncing off to tackle someone else.

Chris rolls his eyes and walks over to Jay, who punches him in the arm and says either "Welcome to the band, don't fuck it up," or something about kangaroos - the crowd hasn't had time to thin, and words are getting lost before they're even spoken. Either way, Chris nods in what he hopes is a reassuring manner, and Ten Seconds Before completely leaves his head.

Re: After Chris' first show with Arma. Because I can't NOT write Chris/Pete, sorry. :-(

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

I don't know what pairings you like that don't include Chris! What should I write in return?

[modillian.livejournal.com]

A)I have not signed up for big bang but, B) now I really want to write 20,000 words about how all of the amazingly dressed Panic boys came to England on a sekrit mission to SAVE THE WORLD. Because in the photo they're obviously all staring shocked as, uh, Godzilla smashes London or Dover or wherever in the distance, and they use their superhero powers combined to save England from tsunamis and large lizard monsters and another wave of the Plague. Um. Or something. Man, those Panic boys sure are entertaining, anyways.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Ahahahahaha. They will save the world with their bizarre fashion sense!

A Ray/Gerad kiss!

[nova-bright.livejournal.com]

((HAHAHAHA LOL WUT. PANIC. DO YOU ACTUALLY GET DRESSED IN THE DARK, AND THEN LEAVE THE HOUSE WITH YOUR EYES SHUT, BOYS? I REALLY HOPE SO))

Gerard has his oddly strong fingers curled around the hair at the nape of Ray's neck. The hotel room muffles any outside noise, and they stand flush against each other, Gerard's heart beating a frantic little rhythm against Ray's chest. He lifts his face towards Ray's, and just has their lips touch, Ray bursts out with an explosive giggle.

Gerard lets go, and pulls away, watching as Ray just stands there, lughing to himself hysterically.

"Okay, motherfucker. What's so funny?" Gerard glares at Ray, who may actually be choking on his own spit.

"Dude, I am so, so sorry. It's just...tiny teeth! Coming to get me!" Ray actually snorts, snorts! with laughter. Gerard narrows his eyes, and contemplates kick Ray in the nuts for a bit, but decides that he values them too much to potentially harm them. But still. If Ray didn't stop laughing soon, he was probably going to have to attempt some sort of bodily harm.

"Fuck you Toro, me and my tiny teeth are awesome." Gerard growls, and just slams into the other man, knocking them both to the ground. Ray grunts,a little winded, and Gerard feels spitefully pleased. He straddles Ray, knees either side of Ray's waist and just breathes down at him.

Taking advantage of Ray's momentary confusion, Gerard kisses him one, twice on the mouth, short tender touches of the lips, sweet and stupidly chaste for a couple of guys who had fallen out of a bunk in the middle of the afternoon mid coitus two weeks ago.

"Ray. Do not laugh at my teeth. They would never laugh at you." Gerard says solemnly, and Ray's lips quick up. He strokes Gerard's left thigh apologetically.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'll do my best." Ray says and leans up to kiss Gerard again. This time he hardly giggles at all, and the noise is swallowed by their mouths, Ray's breath sucked into Gerard's lungs.

Gerard chooses to ignore it anyway. He figures this gives him a free pass to laugh at Ray the next time someone (FRANK) fucks with his conditioner and the fro becomes a beachball of fuzz.

Re: A Ray/Gerad kiss!

[irradiatedsoup.livejournal.com]

:D :D :D!

[angelchildr.livejournal.com]

Her eyes are still closed, but Alicia's technically awake when the kiss is pressed to the corner of her mouth. The extra stubble is her first hint, but the smell follows closely on that. Less coffee, more hair gel.

"Mm. You're not my husband."

There's a familiar laugh in her ear as she pries her eyes open, wiping the sleep from one of them even though she'd rather keep them closed. When she's able to focus, she smiles at the face resting far too close to hers.

"Nope. I tied him up in the closet so I could have my way with you."

Alicia laughs and shakes her head. "That's a lie. Unless you cut off his arm before you did it." She lifts the arm that's wrapped around her waist from behind and shakes it a little, feeling a different laugh pressed against her back.

"I told him you wouldn't believe that."

She cranes around to glance at Mikey out of the corner of her eye, smiling as she does, then settles again to assess the addition to their bed. "You going to give me a real kiss, or do I have to settle for some crappy half-asleep one?"

Pete leans in and kisses her again.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

"Wow," says Pete. "You look -- wow."

"Quiet," Alicia says, raising her chin. Her make-up is perfect, her lingerie black and lacy, her high heels shining like they've been polished for hours. When Pete reaches out to touch the place where her garter meets the top of her stockings, Alicia slaps his hand away, so hard it stings.

"Ow," Pete says, frowning. Mikey grins at him sideways.

"There are some rules here," Alicia says. "You don't get to touch me. Not unless I tell you to. And you do exactly what I say."

Pete looks over at Mikey. He's staring at Alicia, licking his lips; his face is almost shining, radiant like a light's on inside. Pete gives in.

"Okay," he says. "What do you want us to do?"

Alicia smiles. She looks wicked. "First, I want you to kiss my husband."

Pete can do that. He leans over, just a couple of feet, and Mikey turns his head automatically, placing them at the perfect angle to each other. Mikey tastes familiar, in a way that makes Pete think of summer and dusty roads and friendship and sunsets.

"Now," Alicia says, "suck his cock."

Pete laughs into Mikey's mouth, from pure delight.

[norah.livejournal.com]

11 patterns! Spencer's shirt is lightly patterned, and there are subtle stripes on Brendon's trousers, methinks.

Wow.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

I was counting Spencer's shirt in my nine, but I can see up to 12, depending.

[doll-revolution.livejournal.com]

omg jon, REAL BOY JON is wearing an. . .ascot! what the hell happened to you, jon???

(ryan TOTALLY has a hypno-ray, and noting will convince me otherwise)

well, at least he's not in a parade, prancing around in long underwe. , .wait. never mind. *sigh*

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

*grins* How many cults does Ryan have, anyway?

[bexone.livejournal.com]

I am pretty sure that Pete put a clause in all the decaydance contracts that says that there must be some certain number of furry references in videos per album, or he like. Takes away all their hair gel and straighteners, or something.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Somehow it seems preferably to them all doing it ON THEIR OWN.

it's late. idk, man!

[blondiusmaximus.livejournal.com]

Their first kiss is really awkward. Really awkward.

Frank's scrambling to get away from Bob (he put super-glue on Bob's drumsticks right before the show which Frank thought was hilarious until he realized it meant Bob had two permanent punishin' hands and a need for a Frank-shaped tom) and he's laughing and running through the lounge of the bus area to hide in his bunk when he foot catches on something (one of Gerard's crayons, maybe, or an extra drumstick) and he completely wipes out on the sofa. Onto Gerard. Who was just minding his business, doodling, he really wasn't trying to trip Frank, he really wasn't, really. Really. Gerard's been dreaming about this moment for months and in his version of the fantasy there would be more careful planning and rose petals and the slow strip of clothes and Frank would breathe heavily against the sweat on his collar bone and there would definitely be much less of Frank head-butting him in the face.

Frank manages one strangled noise before he goes down. His knee ends up barely missing Gerard's crotch and his face ends up smashed against Gerard's, his lips on the corner of his mouth. Gerard has no idea what to do. Frank doesn't either, it seems, as instead of laughing it off and backing away he just sort of...stays. Frozen. One of his hands is on the couch by Gerard's side and the other is raised just above Gerard's chest as if he was about to push back and away. Gerard's hands hang in the air but he can feel the ends of his fingers twitch. He feels like an idiot.

He's also pretty sure this isn't one of those life moments that are so epic they seem to slow down, like in a movie or something, because this surely isn't epic, and he's pretty sure it's as excruciatingly long as it seems, was that a clock actually ticking, why is Frank still on his face? He wants to breathe but he can't decide whether or not to exhale through his nose or his mouth (his nose breaths might scare Frank away, he'd pretty much be exhaling on Frank's nose and he doesn't know if Frank's into sharing nose breaths yet, maybe that's a thing of his, and his open mouth might be just the invitation Frank needs, but Gerard's also pretty sure his breath is awful, what if that scares Frank away, oh god, they have been in this position for days and they will die this way because neither of them are moving and Gerard refuses to breathe).

Luckily (or unluckily, depending) the choice is taken away by the sound of drumsticks pounding on the bus door and Bob's loud I'M COMING FOR YOU, IERO. Frank jerks back at the noise and accidentally knees Gerard in the crotch as he fumbles backward. He can't even check to see if Gerard is breathing before he's mumbling a 'sorry, sorry, sorry' and disappearing off to the bunks. When Bob gets in Gerard is hunched over, rocking back and forth and looking intently at his crotch. Bob really doesn't want to know, really, but there's the possibility that harming the lead singer of their band will mean Brian will forgive Bob what he's about to do when he gets his hands-and-drumsticks on Frank, so he asks, "Iero do this?"

Gerard nods weakly and goes back to cradling his crotch without thinking about how his pride hurts so, so, so much worse than his bruised penis right about now. Ow. Ow.

Re: it's late. idk, man!

[blondiusmaximus.livejournal.com]

They don't talk for three days (it's all "Oh, sorry, no, uhm, you go ahead, you were here first, nice weather"-s and awkward eye contact until Gerard thinks he's going to trip Frank again, just to make Frank say something to him. Although he's pretty sure Frank would stay on the ground and comment on the fine color of the carpet as long as it meant avoiding the subject) but then one night after a show they crawl backstage on an adrenaline high and the roar of the crowd and right when the other guys disappear into the dressing room Frank mutters a fuck this and pushes Gerard up against the wall. Gerard can still hear the other guys just inside the door, cracking the seals on water bottles and running water over washcloths.

He's about to say something, anything, about what happened but then Frank licks his way up the line of Gerard's jaw and into his mouth, and they're sweaty and disgusting and Frank's hand somehow ended under Gerard's shirt and the other is around the back of his neck and both of Gerard's hands know exactly what they're doing pulling at Frank's hair to draw him closer (he can hear the scritch of his nails against Frank's scalp, and he can't help but press his hips up and in), and if anyone asks, yes, that was their first kiss. It was awesome, everything was perfect, and Gerard's pretty sure his crotch has forgiven Frank for the Couch Incident. He couldn't be happier (reality's always better than fantasy, anyway, and rose petals are completely overrated).

[neery.livejournal.com]

Oh Panic boys, you make me so happy right now. I'll always miss Ryan's rosevest-and-facial-birds phase, but the current ridicness is pretty awesome, too.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

All of their looks are pretty lulz-worthy, I must say!

trade you this kiss for a happy one.

[sweetvalleyslut.livejournal.com]

Gerard started off with What Does It All Mean, curled against a headboard with Brian on a shitty hotel bed, sharing cigarettes and bad wine, and now he's on to Why Do I Even Bother, his vowels getting more slurred and more Jersey as he says, "I'm such a fuckup, Brian."

He says, "you're not a fuckup, Gee," but it comes out weary, annoyed. It sounds awful, and he'd never say it out loud, but it's boring, on some level, exhausting, to have to reassure someone that they're worthwhile over and over, when you know they're never going to hear it. That's true even though Brian loves Gerard so much that he sometimes feels like a parent with a clumsy kid: he feels every crash and every hurt like it's happening to him. He loves him so much that he's sitting here listing the people who love Gerard for the eightieth time, listing all the good things he's done, saying things that he might as well have tape recorded, because Gerard's going to need to hear them again and again. "And I love you. You asshole," he finishes, flicking Gerard on the nose.

"Yeah?" Gerard says. His mouth twists like he thinks Brian is making things up. His eyes are round and wet, lost.

Brian leans in and kisses him, then. It's not the smartest thing he's ever done, or the classiest, since Gerard's probably too drunk to walk, but it's not like he's going to take it any further. He just wants to let Gerard feel it, feel loved and cared for, and the words aren't doing anything. He kisses Gerard slowly, carefully, cupping his cheek, while Gerard slops his boozy tongue over Brian's lips. He's focusing so much on making it good, making it sweet and distracting, that he doesn't notice how hard he is until Gerard makes a high-pitched noise and wiggles against him. He wants, suddenly, he wants to shove Gerard over and push into him, he wants Gerard's mouth, he wants--he lets go of Gerard's face, opens his other hand to stop clenching Gerard's soft, round hip under his loose jeans.

Gerard blinks at him, lips apart, looking turned on or just stupid. Brian focuses on trying to read the Spanish label of the wine bottle. "Brian," Gerard says, tugging his sleeve, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm like this, you don't have to--" and Brian grabs his chin, kisses him again, hard, because he can't, can't, *can't* listen any longer.

Re: trade you this kiss for a happy one.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

UM.

Dude, I do not think I can properly express how much I adored this. Just, wow. There's so much here, and it fulfills my needs for this pairing so perfectly, and just. YES. I'm not sure whether I'll get around to doing kisses for the ones after my edit, but I'll be thinkign about this.