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schmericaMy internet has been screwed up for the last eight plus hours, so I am stealing somebody else's crappy wireless at the moment and it makes me really nervous. Let's post this before I get kicked out again.
Rejected subtitles for this story include “How Many Crazy Dudes Can You Fit in a Bed?” and “But It's Tasteful Incest, I Promise!”
IDK, you guys. Just go with it.
Like Crosses Love the Nape of the Neck
by Pearl-o
Gerard and Mikey and Pete, and the combinations thereby implied. 5000 words. R. Not true at all.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lordessrenegade; she knows why. Let the guilt consume you, darling!
Some things last forever; some things don't.
*****
Gerard's the only one on the bus, and it's kind of awesome. It's the first time he's been genuinely alone since the tour started, he thinks, and as much as he loves his guys, sometimes he misses that. The other dudes still give him a worried look before they go off to party, like they're doing something wrong or maybe going to break him, but Gerard's mind doesn't even flash right to the vodka he's missing any more. It just goes right here, to him curled up here with his diet soda and pile of comic books. He makes a note to remember to bring it up in his next therapy session; he thinks it has to be a good sign.
It's still pretty early when his cell goes off. He doesn't really want to move out of his comfortable position to get it -- it's across the room -- but the tone is the one he only uses for Mikey, so he does it anyway.
He answers the phone with a bright "Hey!" He's ready to go right into a discussion of the storyline he just finished, to get Mikey's opinion on whether it fails on the same points Gerard thinks it does, but the voice on the other end isn't Mikey.
(This, Gerard thinks, reflecting back on it after that summer -- this is where it starts, for real.)
"Gerard," says the voice, and it takes Gerard a second to recognize Pete Wentz. "Sorry, I'm calling with Mikey's phone, but we're right outside the bus. Can you help me get him inside?"
Gerard hangs up without responding. He grabs his shoes and a hoodie and heads outside.
He finds Pete and Mikey leaning against the side. Pete is leaning, at least; Mikey is more propped up. He's totally, completely out of it, and Gerard bites his lip hard enough to hurt when he sees him. Pete is holding one of Mikey's arms around himself, keeping Mikey upright. Pete's a small dude, but he's strong, so he has him pretty steady.
"I would've just taken him to sleep it off on our bus, but you guys were a lot closer," Pete says, when Gerard gets close enough. Gerard nods and doesn't say anything, just goes around to get Mikey's other arm.
Together they get Mikey on the bus. They dump him down in his own bunk. Gerard leans over, fiddling with the pillows so they prop Mikey up a little, so that he's half on his side, not lying flat on his back. Pete reaches past him and takes Mikey's glasses off his face. Gerard watches his hands folding them shut; it's weirdly tender.
"What is he on?" Gerard says quietly.
"Huh?" Pete looks confused when Gerard turns to him.
"Did you see what he was taking?" Gerard says, more slowly, and Pete frowns.
"I don't know -- he just had too many beers."
"Are you sure?" He folds his arms across his chest.
"What do you mean, am I sure?" Pete says. "Did I have my eye on him every fucking second like he was doing something wrong? No. I didn't realize he was a prisoner."
"I thought I could trust you to take care of him-- Fuck," Gerard says, and he realizes a moment too late that he's almost yelling.
Pete's staring at him. "Dude," he says, "I'm not his fucking baby-sitter."
And it's true, of course. Gerard's the one who's supposed to be taking care of Mikey. Especially now. Especially after the bang-up job he did all the years before he got sober.
"Fuck," Gerard says again. He turns around and leaves.
Outside, he lights up a cigarette, shutting his eyes as he inhales. The plastic of the lighter is warm from his hand, and he clutches it tight in his fist.
"Look--" Pete Wentz says. Gerard opens his eyes again, and he's just a few feet away, hands in his hoodie pockets and eyes big. "Look," he says, "I didn't know there was a thing."
Gerard says, "There's not. Just forget it, okay."
Pete doesn't look satisfied with that response. "Look," he says again, "Mikey is--" He stops and regroups. "I really care about him," he says finally.
Gerard looks away and tries to concentrate on his smoke. "I know."
"Seriously."
Gerard shakes his head. He can hear the frustrated huff Pete lets out, right before he feels Pete's hand on his shoulder. It's not grabbing, exactly, but it's present, strong and tight, and Gerard turns into the touch without thinking it through. Turns into Pete, right there, and he leans in the extra few inches and kisses him, hard.
Gerard's somewhere between angry and frustrated and helpless, but he's not sure exactly where.
Gerard pulls away after a long second, stubs out his cigarette under his sneaker, and walks away to climb back on the bus.
*****
Three days later, Gerard is sitting at a picnic table, smoking again, squinting out into the sun, when Mikey and Pete sit down on the other side.
This is the first time Gerard's been alone with the two of them since they put Mikey to bed. Not that he planned it that way; it just happened.
They're noisy as they sit down. They're not cuddling, and neither one is in the other's lap, but they might as well be. Pete is hanging all over Mikey like some kind of freaky tattooed monkey, and Mikey is smiling, grinning, almost laughing.
"Hi," Gerard says.
"Hi, Gerard!" Mikey says. He sounds cheerful.
"Hi, Gerard," Pete echoes. He's smirking.
Gerard narrows his eyes and looks past them, over at the field where a bunch of guys are playing something that looks a little like soccer but probably isn't. The games get more complicated by the week.
He's wondering if it's possible for them to be playing skins against shirts when there are twice as many shirtless guys when Mikey says, "So Pete told me you guys kissed."
Gerard chokes on the smoke in his lungs. He leans over, bending at the stomach to cough and hack for two minutes straight. When he catches his breath again and sits up, Mikey and Pete are watching him, with twin steady gazes.
"Why the fuck would Pete tell you that?" Gerard says. His voice sounds scratchy still.
Pete says, "We tell each other everything."
Gerard has never had anything against Pete Wentz, not ever, but in that second he hates him a little. Something about the way Pete says it makes him ache somewhere inside. Jealous. There was a time when he and Mikey told each other everything, Gerard thinks -- but it's been a long while. And knowing that Pete Wentz gets to have that, gets to have his brother in a way Gerard doesn't...
It hurts.
Gerard makes himself smile. "Yeah, sorry about that, Mikey. Didn't mean to get designs on your boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend," Mikey says peaceably, and Pete snickers.
Gerard rolls his eyes. "Well, don't worry. It won't happen again."
Mikey nudges Pete with his elbow and says, "Told you." Pete pulls a disappointed face, lower lip out in a pout. "I'll still kiss you, though," Mikey says, and Pete leans over to bite his biceps through his thin t-shirt.
"I'm gonna go find Toro," Gerard says, standing up. "I'll see you later, Mikey."
"Bye, Gee," Mikey says behind him.
******
The next hotel night is just a few days later. Mikey and Gerard are supposed to room together, but Mikey sets down his stuff on the edge of one of the beds and then disappears, almost immediately. Gerard takes a shower and lies down on the bed and watches TV by himself. Mikey's not back by the time Gerard turns out the lights and crawls into bed.
He wakes up sometime in the middle of the night from some weird noise. There's a loud shushing noise coming from somewhere nearby, and he calls out "Mikey?" while he's still confused and half-asleep. The next sound he hears after that is somewhere between a giggle and a moan, and Gerard makes the realization, all in one split-second, that his little brother is having sex in the next bed.
"Jesus Christ, Mikey!" Gerard yells. He's scrambling out from under the covers before he even knows what he's doing, but he remembers himself enough not to snap on the light. He heads to the bathroom and clicks the door shut behind him. The light's bright in here and everything is white. He considers turning on the tap, just to cover the noise, but all he can actually hear from in here is Pete's loud bray of a laugh.
The toilet seat is down and the lid is shut. Gerard sits down on it and curls his arms around himself.
There's a knock on the door after a couple of minutes.
"Gerard? Can I come in?"
Gerard leans forward just far enough to open the door for him, and Mikey steps in. He's wearing a pair of shorts but nothing else. He doesn't even have his glasses on. He looks paler in these awful lights (Gerard does, too, he can see the same thing on himself). Mikey looks skinnier, too, and frailer somehow. Gerard stares forward at Mikey's stupid knocked knees.
"Gee, don't be mad?" Mikey says.
Gerard gnaws at his right index fingernail, instead of looking at Mikey's face. "I'm not mad at you."
"Gee," says Mikey.
"I'm not mad at you."
Mikey kneels down between Gerard's legs, resting his hands lightly on Gerard's knees. Gerard has to look at him.
"That was fucked-up, Mikey," Gerard says.
"Yeah," Mikey says.
Gerard runs a hand through his own hair. "Just -- what the fuck, you know?"
"Yeah," Mikey says again. He's quiet for a couple of seconds and says, "Well, but we're always fucked-up."
Gerard is pretty sure he means him and Gerard, not him and Pete. It's not really an answer either way. Gerard sighs.
"We're done now," Mikey says, biting his lip. "I mean. You can go back to bed. It's not going to happen again."
"Okay," Gerard says. "Just -- give me a minute."
Mikey squeezes his knee tightly before he stands up again and leaves the room. It's a couple more minutes before the weird feeling rolling around in Gerard's stomach settles down enough that sleep seems like a possibility.
Even so, it still takes a while after he climbs back into his bed before he can drift off. He can't help listening for noises from the other bed, but it's silent.
When he wakes up in the morning, the other bed is empty, Pete's gone, and Mikey is warm and familiar, breathing hot against Gerard's back.
*****
Another week, and this time it's the back lounge of the bus.
"Hi," Mikey says, raising his head a little, and Pete grunts a little in greeting.
"Hi," Gerard says. He sits down opposite from them, holding his water bottle to his head, icy against his sweaty brow. "Pete, don't you have, like, a band or something? Don't they miss you?"
"Nah," Pete says. "They're all sick of me already. Besides, I'm busy."
"I can see that," Gerard says. Pete is sitting back against the couch, with Mikey in front of him, settled in between the wide vee of his legs. Neither of them are wearing shirts, and Mikey's leaning forward while Pete does something that involves his hands on Mikey's back.
Mikey smiles softly and says, "He's drawing on me. Come and look."
Gerard crosses the aisle and sits down next to Pete, who moves, adjusting his body so Gerard can lean in a little. They're using big fat Crayola washable markers, the kind that fit perfectly into your stubby grip when you're five. There's something red that might be wings over Mikey's shoulder blades, orange and green bartskulls down the small of his back, tiny black hearts just above his waistline.
"You know that's all gonna rub off and smear as soon as you get sweaty," Gerard says. "It's gonna be a mess."
Pete shrugs. "Yeah, but it looks cool now."
"We're gonna take pictures when it's done," Mikey says. "Then we can wash it off at the next shower and do it again."
Pete holds out a blue marker and says, "You wanna try?"
Gerard takes the marker from him and uncaps it. He hesitates for a few seconds, thinking. The marker is way too thick for anything that's subtle or small or depends on his lines.
He presses the marker to Mikey's skin and blocks out a large capital G low on his left side. He fills it in with a couple of swift strokes, and then caps the marker and hands it back to Pete.
Pete nods slowly. "I like it. Simple but classic."
Mikey turns his head a little to look at Gerard and reaches out his. Gerard takes his hand, and Mikey tugs him down onto the floor in front of him. Gerard rests his head against Mikey's thigh.
"Now," says Pete, "I'm gonna write Pete Wentz Was Here, right here, in big purple letters."
"Who do you think is going to see it?" Mikey says.
"I'm gonna see it," Pete says. "And I like seeing it."
Mikey snorts, still running his hands through Gerard's hair, scratching his scalp. He doesn't ask what Gerard drew on him, and Gerard doesn't volunteer.
******
It's two days after that, or maybe three, when Pete comes and finds him. Gerard's having a smoke break with Frank, and he's in the middle of enjoying his giant smoothie and informing Frank of every way in which he is entirely wrong in his opinions on He-Man when Pete pops up.
He says, "Yo."
"Hey, man," Gerard says. Frank gives him a friendly nod.
"So, hey, Gerard, can I talk to you alone for a minute? Do you mind at all, Frank?"
Frank shrugs and says, "I'm cool."
"Yeah, I guess," Gerard says. He pats Frank on the shoulder and follows Pete away from the buses.
Pete stops underneath a shady tree. He leans back against the bark and folds his arms and looks up at Gerard from under his lashes.
"So what's up?" Gerard says. He adjusts his weight on his hip and takes another sip of his smoothie.
"I need to ask you a question," Pete says. "And you can say yes or you can say no, whatever, but before I ask the question you have to promise not to get weird about it."
Pete sounds kind of impatient, like he's been practicing this speech. Gerard rubs his eyes with one hand. "Weird?"
"Or, you know, I guess it's fine with you get weird with me, okay, that doesn't matter. I mean, I can handle it. It's just-- not Mikey. You have to not get weird with Mikey."
Gerard says carefully, "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I just don't want him to get hurt," Pete says, looking stubborn.
For a second Gerard feels like he is burning, actually burning, all his nerves on fire. He takes a deep breath and then a second one, until he doesn't want to hit Pete anymore.
"I would never do anything to hurt Mikey," Gerard says.
Pete nods. He gazes at Gerard steadily, keeping eye contact. After a few seconds he says, "What do you think about a threesome?"
Gerard's first instinct is to say "With who?" He takes in the full implications of the question just in time to keep from saying that out loud. Instead, his reaction comes out: "Oh. Oh, wow."
"Yeah, so?"
"Give me a minute."
Pete's arms are still folded across his chest, and he's frowning, and practically vibrating in place while he waits. But he's silent, and that's all Gerard is asking for, a minute to think without Pete saying anything as he stares at him.
A million different thoughts go through his mind. The thing he finally says out loud, though, is "Was this your idea or Mikey's?"
Pete's mouth tightens. He start to say, "I'm not gonna--"
And that's enough of an answer, it really is, Gerard thinks, so he cuts him off. "Because if this is Mikey's idea... If this is something Mikey wants, then okay." He bites his lip. "Then okay, I'll do it."
He doesn't look at Pete while he says it. Pete says, "Okay."
"Okay," Gerard says. "I'm gonna go find Frank again now. He still has my cigarettes."
"Okay," Pete says again, and Gerard leaves.
*****
The next three shows are all good, but Gerard can see the look Brian's been giving him out of the corner of his eye, so it's not a surprise when Brian stops him offstage and makes him sit down across from him.
"Are you all right?" Brian says. With other people that question sounds like a pleasantry, a random bit of politeness. Not with Brian. With Brian it's serious. It's blunt.
"Yeah," Gerard says, "yeah, I'm good." He's biting at his fingernails again. He's getting a hangnail.
Brian leans forward. His hands are locked together into a fist, and they hang between his knees. "You can always talk to me, you know that, right?"
"I know that."
"I'm not gonna judge you," Brian says quietly, and it's true, Gerard knows that, too. If worst came to worst and Gerard fucked it all up again, Brian would be right there, and he wouldn't say a fucking word, either. He'd just help Gerard up.
"Seriously, Brian," Gerard says. "I promise you, nothing like that is going on. I'm good. I really am."
"Okay," Brian says, and he doesn't smile, but a little bit of the tension goes out of his posture. Gerard's gotten back to the point where people can believe him when he says things like that, at least a little bit. "So what's going on, then? I know you."
Gerard shrugs. "I don't know. Things are a little weird with Mikey right now. You know. It'll be fine, it always is. Just ... weird, sometimes." He smiles crookedly. "Brothers."
Brian nods. "Okay. Just -- let me know if you want to talk, man, all right?"
"Yeah," Gerard says, "I will, dude, I will." He gives Brian a hug when they stand up.
******
The following night is a hotel night. "Pete's got a private room," Mikey mutters to Gerard, as they're getting off the elevator. He's quiet enough that Gerard barely catches it. When he realizes what Mikey's said, he sucks in a breath too fast and almost trips on the hallway carpeting. Neither Mikey nor Pete has said another word about it since Gerard had the conversation with Pete last week; he was starting to think maybe it was just a weird fever dream.
"So you can come by later. If you want," Mikey continues. He's looking ahead.
"I'll do that," Gerard says quietly. He reaches out and pats Mikey on the arm, and Mikey gives him a fond look before he walks away.
It's a couple hours later when he finds himself outside Pete's room. Gerard's not sure he can remember the last time he did this, got already for something, went somewhere already knowing for sure it was going to end in sex. Premeditated, like first degree murder. It either didn't happen at all, or it just ended up that way on its own. Like manslaughter: no malice aforethought at all, just playing around with Bert in some dirty bathroom until playing became necking and necking became something else.
This is different.
He knocks on the door and Mikey answers, barefoot and lazy-limbed. "Hey, Gee," he says, and Gerard can't help but smile at him when Mikey steps back and lets Gerard in the room.
Pete is sitting cross-legged on the bed. He's lost his shirt already, but Gerard's not sure that's not just his natural state. Mikey sits down next to him, on the edge of the bed, legs straight in front of him.
Gerard stays standing. He says, "So this is pretty weird."
Pete grins, leaning and pressing his forehead against Mikey's shoulder. "Not that weird. It happens in porn all the time."
"That's usually girls, though," Mikey says. Like it's an important distinction and he's determined to be fair. Mikey's always fair.
"Yeah," Pete agrees. "They're usually blonde, too. Still, it's not, like, totally freaky."
"Yeah, you would know," Mikey says. He sort of giggles and sort of snorts. "You're the expert in totally freaky."
"Shut up, you love it," Pete says, and he lifts up on his knees to steal a kiss.
In another situation, Gerard knows how he would react to this. How he has reacted to this a thousand times before. Baby brother sucking face, take eight hundred. They're on a different script now, though, and he doesn't know his lines yet.
He waits until Pete and Mikey break apart again. "Okay, so," Gerard says. "How are we going to do this?"
"I've never done this with guys, but I'm pretty sure we just make it up as we go along," Pete says. He nods at Gerard. "Why don't you take off some clothes? I kind of want to take care of Mikey first. He's pretty eager already."
"Shut up," Mikey says. He's giggling again, even as Pete kisses him.
Gerard turns away to disrobe. He slips off his shoes first, then pulls off his socks. Pants and shirt and undershirt all go in a pile on the armchair. When he's down to just his underwear he turns around again. Mikey's still sitting on the edge of the bed, but his jeans and underwear have been pulled down to his calves, and Pete's on his knees in front of him. Pete wasn't lying; Mikey is eager, totally erect and ready.
"You want me to do it?" Pete says, stroking Mikey's cock slowly.
Mikey waits until Pete looks up at him, until their eyes meet, and then says, "You know I do."
Pete opens his mouth wide and takes Mikey in. Gerard stands still, watching Pete's head bobbing against his brother's body, feeling frozen in place. His heart is beating way too fast and his own dick is hardening, but otherwise he can't move.
Mikey closed his eyes when Pete went down on him, but he opens them again now and looks directly at Gerard. "Come here," he says, holding out his hand.
And Gerard goes.
He sits down next Mikey and takes the hand he offers. They hold on to each other tightly, squeezing fiercely. It's something they've done so many times before and it's always been innocent, but it's not now. He can hear the stutter of Mikey's breath and how he shakes every time Pete moves his head a certain way.
He leans into Mikey slowly, and Mikey seems startled, surprised, but he lets Gerard do it anyway. It's a careful kiss. Gentle. Searching. It's -- it's weird, it's too weird. It makes Gerard's stomach do things he can't even name and he feels dizzy, like he's going to faint. It's all much too weird and he pulls away, blinking away the static in front of his eyes.
"That was weird," Mikey says, and Gerard lets out a relieved laugh.
"Yeah. Yeah." He squeezes Mikey's hand again. "I love you, though."
"Me, too," Mikey says, and his smile is true and wide and pure, right until he gasps and closes his eyes again and it's replaced with a strained look of pleasure.
"Will you -- grab the tissues, Gerard, please," Mikey says. His hips are working now, jerking unsteadily, and Pete's hands are resting there but not holding him down, letting Mikey fuck him, letting Mikey do whatever he wants to his mouth. Gerard grabs the box off the nightstand, stretching so he doesn't have to get up or let go of Mikey's hand.
"Pete, I'm gonna come," Mikey says, and then he's making a high-pitched gasp, almost a hiccup, soft but intense.
Pete pulls off of him a minute later. He gets up off his knees and Gerard hands him the tissues; he takes out a wad and spits into it, then leaves the mess crumpled on the nightstand.
"So fucking hot, Mikey Way," Pete says. He kisses Mikey again, softly, and then Mikey falls onto his back like a rag doll, smiling up at him. "Now that we've got that out of the way," Pete says, shifting his gaze to Gerard, "you got any thoughts about what should happen next?"
Gerard says, "I think so."
He lets go of Mikey's hand to stand up and take a step towards Pete. They kiss, and it's exactly the way Gerard always thought Pete Wentz would kiss, deep and fast and completely fucking dirty. That's only enhanced by the way Pete's mouth just tastes like come.
He pulls Pete toward the bed. They end up with Gerard on his back, Pete on his knees above him. Mikey's hands are between them -- he doesn't touch Gerard, not at all, but Gerard can still feel the heat of his hands as he unbuttons Pete's pants, unzips his fly, pulls his pants and boxer-briefs down out of the way.
When he's sure Mikey's done, Gerard sticks his own hand between them, wrapping his palm around the thick heat of Pete's dick. Pete kisses him again as he works his hand under Gerard's waistband.
They're half stroking each other off, and half just rubbing against each other. Either way it's good. Pete gets both of them in hand somehow, pushing Gerard's hand out of the way.
With both of his hands free he can wrap his arms around Pete's naked back, push his nails into Pete's skin and feel the way Pete thrusts and hisses every time. His hands meet Mikey's by accident, where Mikey's fingers are stroking slow along the raised skin of Pete's old tattoo. Gerard feels the connection everywhere, not just in the nerves of his fingertips, and it makes him shake, but he leaves his fingers there for a few seconds, just pressing slightly against Mikey's, before he moves again.
Gerard curves his legs around the back of Pete's calves and strains up helplessly, pushing and pushing and pushing. He comes first, and it feels like something breaking and shattering. He goes limp, suddenly exhausted, and digs his nails further into Pete's shoulder, mouthing whatever he can reach of Pete's skin.
Mikey's wiping the sweaty lock of hair out of Gerard's eyes. Gerard keeps them closed until he hears Pete moan -- loudly, ridiculously loudly, so that it should almost be funny -- and Pete's come is adding to his own, thick and sticky and wet between them.
He opens his eyes again when Pete rolls off to the side.
"So," Gerard says up at the ceiling.
Pete groans. Mikey says, "It was weird, huh?"
"Pretty weird," Gerard agrees.
"But not totally freaky?" Pete says. There's a sound that might be Mikey punching him in the shoulder, or maybe just pressing against him.
"Kind of totally freaky," Gerard says, frowning. "But not in a bad way."
Mikey leans over, popping into view just long enough to kiss Gerard lightly on the forehead. It feels brotherly.
*****
The summer is almost over, and everybody knows it. There's only a couple of dates left in the tour, and every time Gerard sees Pete and Mikey together these days, it looks like they're saying good-bye.
He's sitting, curled up on himself on the cushion, eating M&Ms and watching Ray and Bob play video games. Bob is winning; he usually is.
Mikey wanders into the area and blinks at all three of them, looking vaguely surprised to see them there, before he sits down next to Gerard, bumping their knees together.
"You're all wet," Gerard says.
"Went to another water park."
Gerard hands him a piece of candy. Orange, because that was always Mikey's favorite. He'd eat them all first. He always left the yellows for Gerard at the end.
Mikey sticks it in his mouth without a word.
"How many does that make this summer?" Gerard says.
"Not sure," Mikey says thoughtfully. He makes a noise, sucking on the candy through his teeth. "This is the last one, though. No more."
"Aw, Mikey," Gerard says.
"No, it's not -- it's okay, really." Mikey sits up a little straighter, and gives half a shrug. "The summer's almost over, you know? Me and Pete are almost over."
"Yeah, but--" Gerard starts, but he doesn't know what else to say.
"It really is okay," Mikey says. "I mean. It's not a bad thing. Some things just aren't meant to last forever."
"That's deep," Ray says from the floor. Bob snorts.
Gerard throws his arm over Mikey's shoulder. "Some things do last forever, you know. Like me and you. We'll always be brothers."
"That might be even more profound," Bob says to Ray, and Ray giggles, high-pitched and ridiculous.
Mikey just says, "Yeah, Gee. I know."
He leans in, laying his head against Gerard's shoulder and Gerard turns his head, letting his cheek rest against Mikey's damp hair. It feels good, sitting like that, and they stay in that position, watching the other guys, quietly bent around each other, for a long time.
Rejected subtitles for this story include “How Many Crazy Dudes Can You Fit in a Bed?” and “But It's Tasteful Incest, I Promise!”
IDK, you guys. Just go with it.
Like Crosses Love the Nape of the Neck
by Pearl-o
Gerard and Mikey and Pete, and the combinations thereby implied. 5000 words. R. Not true at all.
For
lordessrenegade; she knows why. Let the guilt consume you, darling!Some things last forever; some things don't.
*****
Gerard's the only one on the bus, and it's kind of awesome. It's the first time he's been genuinely alone since the tour started, he thinks, and as much as he loves his guys, sometimes he misses that. The other dudes still give him a worried look before they go off to party, like they're doing something wrong or maybe going to break him, but Gerard's mind doesn't even flash right to the vodka he's missing any more. It just goes right here, to him curled up here with his diet soda and pile of comic books. He makes a note to remember to bring it up in his next therapy session; he thinks it has to be a good sign.
It's still pretty early when his cell goes off. He doesn't really want to move out of his comfortable position to get it -- it's across the room -- but the tone is the one he only uses for Mikey, so he does it anyway.
He answers the phone with a bright "Hey!" He's ready to go right into a discussion of the storyline he just finished, to get Mikey's opinion on whether it fails on the same points Gerard thinks it does, but the voice on the other end isn't Mikey.
(This, Gerard thinks, reflecting back on it after that summer -- this is where it starts, for real.)
"Gerard," says the voice, and it takes Gerard a second to recognize Pete Wentz. "Sorry, I'm calling with Mikey's phone, but we're right outside the bus. Can you help me get him inside?"
Gerard hangs up without responding. He grabs his shoes and a hoodie and heads outside.
He finds Pete and Mikey leaning against the side. Pete is leaning, at least; Mikey is more propped up. He's totally, completely out of it, and Gerard bites his lip hard enough to hurt when he sees him. Pete is holding one of Mikey's arms around himself, keeping Mikey upright. Pete's a small dude, but he's strong, so he has him pretty steady.
"I would've just taken him to sleep it off on our bus, but you guys were a lot closer," Pete says, when Gerard gets close enough. Gerard nods and doesn't say anything, just goes around to get Mikey's other arm.
Together they get Mikey on the bus. They dump him down in his own bunk. Gerard leans over, fiddling with the pillows so they prop Mikey up a little, so that he's half on his side, not lying flat on his back. Pete reaches past him and takes Mikey's glasses off his face. Gerard watches his hands folding them shut; it's weirdly tender.
"What is he on?" Gerard says quietly.
"Huh?" Pete looks confused when Gerard turns to him.
"Did you see what he was taking?" Gerard says, more slowly, and Pete frowns.
"I don't know -- he just had too many beers."
"Are you sure?" He folds his arms across his chest.
"What do you mean, am I sure?" Pete says. "Did I have my eye on him every fucking second like he was doing something wrong? No. I didn't realize he was a prisoner."
"I thought I could trust you to take care of him-- Fuck," Gerard says, and he realizes a moment too late that he's almost yelling.
Pete's staring at him. "Dude," he says, "I'm not his fucking baby-sitter."
And it's true, of course. Gerard's the one who's supposed to be taking care of Mikey. Especially now. Especially after the bang-up job he did all the years before he got sober.
"Fuck," Gerard says again. He turns around and leaves.
Outside, he lights up a cigarette, shutting his eyes as he inhales. The plastic of the lighter is warm from his hand, and he clutches it tight in his fist.
"Look--" Pete Wentz says. Gerard opens his eyes again, and he's just a few feet away, hands in his hoodie pockets and eyes big. "Look," he says, "I didn't know there was a thing."
Gerard says, "There's not. Just forget it, okay."
Pete doesn't look satisfied with that response. "Look," he says again, "Mikey is--" He stops and regroups. "I really care about him," he says finally.
Gerard looks away and tries to concentrate on his smoke. "I know."
"Seriously."
Gerard shakes his head. He can hear the frustrated huff Pete lets out, right before he feels Pete's hand on his shoulder. It's not grabbing, exactly, but it's present, strong and tight, and Gerard turns into the touch without thinking it through. Turns into Pete, right there, and he leans in the extra few inches and kisses him, hard.
Gerard's somewhere between angry and frustrated and helpless, but he's not sure exactly where.
Gerard pulls away after a long second, stubs out his cigarette under his sneaker, and walks away to climb back on the bus.
*****
Three days later, Gerard is sitting at a picnic table, smoking again, squinting out into the sun, when Mikey and Pete sit down on the other side.
This is the first time Gerard's been alone with the two of them since they put Mikey to bed. Not that he planned it that way; it just happened.
They're noisy as they sit down. They're not cuddling, and neither one is in the other's lap, but they might as well be. Pete is hanging all over Mikey like some kind of freaky tattooed monkey, and Mikey is smiling, grinning, almost laughing.
"Hi," Gerard says.
"Hi, Gerard!" Mikey says. He sounds cheerful.
"Hi, Gerard," Pete echoes. He's smirking.
Gerard narrows his eyes and looks past them, over at the field where a bunch of guys are playing something that looks a little like soccer but probably isn't. The games get more complicated by the week.
He's wondering if it's possible for them to be playing skins against shirts when there are twice as many shirtless guys when Mikey says, "So Pete told me you guys kissed."
Gerard chokes on the smoke in his lungs. He leans over, bending at the stomach to cough and hack for two minutes straight. When he catches his breath again and sits up, Mikey and Pete are watching him, with twin steady gazes.
"Why the fuck would Pete tell you that?" Gerard says. His voice sounds scratchy still.
Pete says, "We tell each other everything."
Gerard has never had anything against Pete Wentz, not ever, but in that second he hates him a little. Something about the way Pete says it makes him ache somewhere inside. Jealous. There was a time when he and Mikey told each other everything, Gerard thinks -- but it's been a long while. And knowing that Pete Wentz gets to have that, gets to have his brother in a way Gerard doesn't...
It hurts.
Gerard makes himself smile. "Yeah, sorry about that, Mikey. Didn't mean to get designs on your boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend," Mikey says peaceably, and Pete snickers.
Gerard rolls his eyes. "Well, don't worry. It won't happen again."
Mikey nudges Pete with his elbow and says, "Told you." Pete pulls a disappointed face, lower lip out in a pout. "I'll still kiss you, though," Mikey says, and Pete leans over to bite his biceps through his thin t-shirt.
"I'm gonna go find Toro," Gerard says, standing up. "I'll see you later, Mikey."
"Bye, Gee," Mikey says behind him.
******
The next hotel night is just a few days later. Mikey and Gerard are supposed to room together, but Mikey sets down his stuff on the edge of one of the beds and then disappears, almost immediately. Gerard takes a shower and lies down on the bed and watches TV by himself. Mikey's not back by the time Gerard turns out the lights and crawls into bed.
He wakes up sometime in the middle of the night from some weird noise. There's a loud shushing noise coming from somewhere nearby, and he calls out "Mikey?" while he's still confused and half-asleep. The next sound he hears after that is somewhere between a giggle and a moan, and Gerard makes the realization, all in one split-second, that his little brother is having sex in the next bed.
"Jesus Christ, Mikey!" Gerard yells. He's scrambling out from under the covers before he even knows what he's doing, but he remembers himself enough not to snap on the light. He heads to the bathroom and clicks the door shut behind him. The light's bright in here and everything is white. He considers turning on the tap, just to cover the noise, but all he can actually hear from in here is Pete's loud bray of a laugh.
The toilet seat is down and the lid is shut. Gerard sits down on it and curls his arms around himself.
There's a knock on the door after a couple of minutes.
"Gerard? Can I come in?"
Gerard leans forward just far enough to open the door for him, and Mikey steps in. He's wearing a pair of shorts but nothing else. He doesn't even have his glasses on. He looks paler in these awful lights (Gerard does, too, he can see the same thing on himself). Mikey looks skinnier, too, and frailer somehow. Gerard stares forward at Mikey's stupid knocked knees.
"Gee, don't be mad?" Mikey says.
Gerard gnaws at his right index fingernail, instead of looking at Mikey's face. "I'm not mad at you."
"Gee," says Mikey.
"I'm not mad at you."
Mikey kneels down between Gerard's legs, resting his hands lightly on Gerard's knees. Gerard has to look at him.
"That was fucked-up, Mikey," Gerard says.
"Yeah," Mikey says.
Gerard runs a hand through his own hair. "Just -- what the fuck, you know?"
"Yeah," Mikey says again. He's quiet for a couple of seconds and says, "Well, but we're always fucked-up."
Gerard is pretty sure he means him and Gerard, not him and Pete. It's not really an answer either way. Gerard sighs.
"We're done now," Mikey says, biting his lip. "I mean. You can go back to bed. It's not going to happen again."
"Okay," Gerard says. "Just -- give me a minute."
Mikey squeezes his knee tightly before he stands up again and leaves the room. It's a couple more minutes before the weird feeling rolling around in Gerard's stomach settles down enough that sleep seems like a possibility.
Even so, it still takes a while after he climbs back into his bed before he can drift off. He can't help listening for noises from the other bed, but it's silent.
When he wakes up in the morning, the other bed is empty, Pete's gone, and Mikey is warm and familiar, breathing hot against Gerard's back.
*****
Another week, and this time it's the back lounge of the bus.
"Hi," Mikey says, raising his head a little, and Pete grunts a little in greeting.
"Hi," Gerard says. He sits down opposite from them, holding his water bottle to his head, icy against his sweaty brow. "Pete, don't you have, like, a band or something? Don't they miss you?"
"Nah," Pete says. "They're all sick of me already. Besides, I'm busy."
"I can see that," Gerard says. Pete is sitting back against the couch, with Mikey in front of him, settled in between the wide vee of his legs. Neither of them are wearing shirts, and Mikey's leaning forward while Pete does something that involves his hands on Mikey's back.
Mikey smiles softly and says, "He's drawing on me. Come and look."
Gerard crosses the aisle and sits down next to Pete, who moves, adjusting his body so Gerard can lean in a little. They're using big fat Crayola washable markers, the kind that fit perfectly into your stubby grip when you're five. There's something red that might be wings over Mikey's shoulder blades, orange and green bartskulls down the small of his back, tiny black hearts just above his waistline.
"You know that's all gonna rub off and smear as soon as you get sweaty," Gerard says. "It's gonna be a mess."
Pete shrugs. "Yeah, but it looks cool now."
"We're gonna take pictures when it's done," Mikey says. "Then we can wash it off at the next shower and do it again."
Pete holds out a blue marker and says, "You wanna try?"
Gerard takes the marker from him and uncaps it. He hesitates for a few seconds, thinking. The marker is way too thick for anything that's subtle or small or depends on his lines.
He presses the marker to Mikey's skin and blocks out a large capital G low on his left side. He fills it in with a couple of swift strokes, and then caps the marker and hands it back to Pete.
Pete nods slowly. "I like it. Simple but classic."
Mikey turns his head a little to look at Gerard and reaches out his. Gerard takes his hand, and Mikey tugs him down onto the floor in front of him. Gerard rests his head against Mikey's thigh.
"Now," says Pete, "I'm gonna write Pete Wentz Was Here, right here, in big purple letters."
"Who do you think is going to see it?" Mikey says.
"I'm gonna see it," Pete says. "And I like seeing it."
Mikey snorts, still running his hands through Gerard's hair, scratching his scalp. He doesn't ask what Gerard drew on him, and Gerard doesn't volunteer.
******
It's two days after that, or maybe three, when Pete comes and finds him. Gerard's having a smoke break with Frank, and he's in the middle of enjoying his giant smoothie and informing Frank of every way in which he is entirely wrong in his opinions on He-Man when Pete pops up.
He says, "Yo."
"Hey, man," Gerard says. Frank gives him a friendly nod.
"So, hey, Gerard, can I talk to you alone for a minute? Do you mind at all, Frank?"
Frank shrugs and says, "I'm cool."
"Yeah, I guess," Gerard says. He pats Frank on the shoulder and follows Pete away from the buses.
Pete stops underneath a shady tree. He leans back against the bark and folds his arms and looks up at Gerard from under his lashes.
"So what's up?" Gerard says. He adjusts his weight on his hip and takes another sip of his smoothie.
"I need to ask you a question," Pete says. "And you can say yes or you can say no, whatever, but before I ask the question you have to promise not to get weird about it."
Pete sounds kind of impatient, like he's been practicing this speech. Gerard rubs his eyes with one hand. "Weird?"
"Or, you know, I guess it's fine with you get weird with me, okay, that doesn't matter. I mean, I can handle it. It's just-- not Mikey. You have to not get weird with Mikey."
Gerard says carefully, "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I just don't want him to get hurt," Pete says, looking stubborn.
For a second Gerard feels like he is burning, actually burning, all his nerves on fire. He takes a deep breath and then a second one, until he doesn't want to hit Pete anymore.
"I would never do anything to hurt Mikey," Gerard says.
Pete nods. He gazes at Gerard steadily, keeping eye contact. After a few seconds he says, "What do you think about a threesome?"
Gerard's first instinct is to say "With who?" He takes in the full implications of the question just in time to keep from saying that out loud. Instead, his reaction comes out: "Oh. Oh, wow."
"Yeah, so?"
"Give me a minute."
Pete's arms are still folded across his chest, and he's frowning, and practically vibrating in place while he waits. But he's silent, and that's all Gerard is asking for, a minute to think without Pete saying anything as he stares at him.
A million different thoughts go through his mind. The thing he finally says out loud, though, is "Was this your idea or Mikey's?"
Pete's mouth tightens. He start to say, "I'm not gonna--"
And that's enough of an answer, it really is, Gerard thinks, so he cuts him off. "Because if this is Mikey's idea... If this is something Mikey wants, then okay." He bites his lip. "Then okay, I'll do it."
He doesn't look at Pete while he says it. Pete says, "Okay."
"Okay," Gerard says. "I'm gonna go find Frank again now. He still has my cigarettes."
"Okay," Pete says again, and Gerard leaves.
*****
The next three shows are all good, but Gerard can see the look Brian's been giving him out of the corner of his eye, so it's not a surprise when Brian stops him offstage and makes him sit down across from him.
"Are you all right?" Brian says. With other people that question sounds like a pleasantry, a random bit of politeness. Not with Brian. With Brian it's serious. It's blunt.
"Yeah," Gerard says, "yeah, I'm good." He's biting at his fingernails again. He's getting a hangnail.
Brian leans forward. His hands are locked together into a fist, and they hang between his knees. "You can always talk to me, you know that, right?"
"I know that."
"I'm not gonna judge you," Brian says quietly, and it's true, Gerard knows that, too. If worst came to worst and Gerard fucked it all up again, Brian would be right there, and he wouldn't say a fucking word, either. He'd just help Gerard up.
"Seriously, Brian," Gerard says. "I promise you, nothing like that is going on. I'm good. I really am."
"Okay," Brian says, and he doesn't smile, but a little bit of the tension goes out of his posture. Gerard's gotten back to the point where people can believe him when he says things like that, at least a little bit. "So what's going on, then? I know you."
Gerard shrugs. "I don't know. Things are a little weird with Mikey right now. You know. It'll be fine, it always is. Just ... weird, sometimes." He smiles crookedly. "Brothers."
Brian nods. "Okay. Just -- let me know if you want to talk, man, all right?"
"Yeah," Gerard says, "I will, dude, I will." He gives Brian a hug when they stand up.
******
The following night is a hotel night. "Pete's got a private room," Mikey mutters to Gerard, as they're getting off the elevator. He's quiet enough that Gerard barely catches it. When he realizes what Mikey's said, he sucks in a breath too fast and almost trips on the hallway carpeting. Neither Mikey nor Pete has said another word about it since Gerard had the conversation with Pete last week; he was starting to think maybe it was just a weird fever dream.
"So you can come by later. If you want," Mikey continues. He's looking ahead.
"I'll do that," Gerard says quietly. He reaches out and pats Mikey on the arm, and Mikey gives him a fond look before he walks away.
It's a couple hours later when he finds himself outside Pete's room. Gerard's not sure he can remember the last time he did this, got already for something, went somewhere already knowing for sure it was going to end in sex. Premeditated, like first degree murder. It either didn't happen at all, or it just ended up that way on its own. Like manslaughter: no malice aforethought at all, just playing around with Bert in some dirty bathroom until playing became necking and necking became something else.
This is different.
He knocks on the door and Mikey answers, barefoot and lazy-limbed. "Hey, Gee," he says, and Gerard can't help but smile at him when Mikey steps back and lets Gerard in the room.
Pete is sitting cross-legged on the bed. He's lost his shirt already, but Gerard's not sure that's not just his natural state. Mikey sits down next to him, on the edge of the bed, legs straight in front of him.
Gerard stays standing. He says, "So this is pretty weird."
Pete grins, leaning and pressing his forehead against Mikey's shoulder. "Not that weird. It happens in porn all the time."
"That's usually girls, though," Mikey says. Like it's an important distinction and he's determined to be fair. Mikey's always fair.
"Yeah," Pete agrees. "They're usually blonde, too. Still, it's not, like, totally freaky."
"Yeah, you would know," Mikey says. He sort of giggles and sort of snorts. "You're the expert in totally freaky."
"Shut up, you love it," Pete says, and he lifts up on his knees to steal a kiss.
In another situation, Gerard knows how he would react to this. How he has reacted to this a thousand times before. Baby brother sucking face, take eight hundred. They're on a different script now, though, and he doesn't know his lines yet.
He waits until Pete and Mikey break apart again. "Okay, so," Gerard says. "How are we going to do this?"
"I've never done this with guys, but I'm pretty sure we just make it up as we go along," Pete says. He nods at Gerard. "Why don't you take off some clothes? I kind of want to take care of Mikey first. He's pretty eager already."
"Shut up," Mikey says. He's giggling again, even as Pete kisses him.
Gerard turns away to disrobe. He slips off his shoes first, then pulls off his socks. Pants and shirt and undershirt all go in a pile on the armchair. When he's down to just his underwear he turns around again. Mikey's still sitting on the edge of the bed, but his jeans and underwear have been pulled down to his calves, and Pete's on his knees in front of him. Pete wasn't lying; Mikey is eager, totally erect and ready.
"You want me to do it?" Pete says, stroking Mikey's cock slowly.
Mikey waits until Pete looks up at him, until their eyes meet, and then says, "You know I do."
Pete opens his mouth wide and takes Mikey in. Gerard stands still, watching Pete's head bobbing against his brother's body, feeling frozen in place. His heart is beating way too fast and his own dick is hardening, but otherwise he can't move.
Mikey closed his eyes when Pete went down on him, but he opens them again now and looks directly at Gerard. "Come here," he says, holding out his hand.
And Gerard goes.
He sits down next Mikey and takes the hand he offers. They hold on to each other tightly, squeezing fiercely. It's something they've done so many times before and it's always been innocent, but it's not now. He can hear the stutter of Mikey's breath and how he shakes every time Pete moves his head a certain way.
He leans into Mikey slowly, and Mikey seems startled, surprised, but he lets Gerard do it anyway. It's a careful kiss. Gentle. Searching. It's -- it's weird, it's too weird. It makes Gerard's stomach do things he can't even name and he feels dizzy, like he's going to faint. It's all much too weird and he pulls away, blinking away the static in front of his eyes.
"That was weird," Mikey says, and Gerard lets out a relieved laugh.
"Yeah. Yeah." He squeezes Mikey's hand again. "I love you, though."
"Me, too," Mikey says, and his smile is true and wide and pure, right until he gasps and closes his eyes again and it's replaced with a strained look of pleasure.
"Will you -- grab the tissues, Gerard, please," Mikey says. His hips are working now, jerking unsteadily, and Pete's hands are resting there but not holding him down, letting Mikey fuck him, letting Mikey do whatever he wants to his mouth. Gerard grabs the box off the nightstand, stretching so he doesn't have to get up or let go of Mikey's hand.
"Pete, I'm gonna come," Mikey says, and then he's making a high-pitched gasp, almost a hiccup, soft but intense.
Pete pulls off of him a minute later. He gets up off his knees and Gerard hands him the tissues; he takes out a wad and spits into it, then leaves the mess crumpled on the nightstand.
"So fucking hot, Mikey Way," Pete says. He kisses Mikey again, softly, and then Mikey falls onto his back like a rag doll, smiling up at him. "Now that we've got that out of the way," Pete says, shifting his gaze to Gerard, "you got any thoughts about what should happen next?"
Gerard says, "I think so."
He lets go of Mikey's hand to stand up and take a step towards Pete. They kiss, and it's exactly the way Gerard always thought Pete Wentz would kiss, deep and fast and completely fucking dirty. That's only enhanced by the way Pete's mouth just tastes like come.
He pulls Pete toward the bed. They end up with Gerard on his back, Pete on his knees above him. Mikey's hands are between them -- he doesn't touch Gerard, not at all, but Gerard can still feel the heat of his hands as he unbuttons Pete's pants, unzips his fly, pulls his pants and boxer-briefs down out of the way.
When he's sure Mikey's done, Gerard sticks his own hand between them, wrapping his palm around the thick heat of Pete's dick. Pete kisses him again as he works his hand under Gerard's waistband.
They're half stroking each other off, and half just rubbing against each other. Either way it's good. Pete gets both of them in hand somehow, pushing Gerard's hand out of the way.
With both of his hands free he can wrap his arms around Pete's naked back, push his nails into Pete's skin and feel the way Pete thrusts and hisses every time. His hands meet Mikey's by accident, where Mikey's fingers are stroking slow along the raised skin of Pete's old tattoo. Gerard feels the connection everywhere, not just in the nerves of his fingertips, and it makes him shake, but he leaves his fingers there for a few seconds, just pressing slightly against Mikey's, before he moves again.
Gerard curves his legs around the back of Pete's calves and strains up helplessly, pushing and pushing and pushing. He comes first, and it feels like something breaking and shattering. He goes limp, suddenly exhausted, and digs his nails further into Pete's shoulder, mouthing whatever he can reach of Pete's skin.
Mikey's wiping the sweaty lock of hair out of Gerard's eyes. Gerard keeps them closed until he hears Pete moan -- loudly, ridiculously loudly, so that it should almost be funny -- and Pete's come is adding to his own, thick and sticky and wet between them.
He opens his eyes again when Pete rolls off to the side.
"So," Gerard says up at the ceiling.
Pete groans. Mikey says, "It was weird, huh?"
"Pretty weird," Gerard agrees.
"But not totally freaky?" Pete says. There's a sound that might be Mikey punching him in the shoulder, or maybe just pressing against him.
"Kind of totally freaky," Gerard says, frowning. "But not in a bad way."
Mikey leans over, popping into view just long enough to kiss Gerard lightly on the forehead. It feels brotherly.
*****
The summer is almost over, and everybody knows it. There's only a couple of dates left in the tour, and every time Gerard sees Pete and Mikey together these days, it looks like they're saying good-bye.
He's sitting, curled up on himself on the cushion, eating M&Ms and watching Ray and Bob play video games. Bob is winning; he usually is.
Mikey wanders into the area and blinks at all three of them, looking vaguely surprised to see them there, before he sits down next to Gerard, bumping their knees together.
"You're all wet," Gerard says.
"Went to another water park."
Gerard hands him a piece of candy. Orange, because that was always Mikey's favorite. He'd eat them all first. He always left the yellows for Gerard at the end.
Mikey sticks it in his mouth without a word.
"How many does that make this summer?" Gerard says.
"Not sure," Mikey says thoughtfully. He makes a noise, sucking on the candy through his teeth. "This is the last one, though. No more."
"Aw, Mikey," Gerard says.
"No, it's not -- it's okay, really." Mikey sits up a little straighter, and gives half a shrug. "The summer's almost over, you know? Me and Pete are almost over."
"Yeah, but--" Gerard starts, but he doesn't know what else to say.
"It really is okay," Mikey says. "I mean. It's not a bad thing. Some things just aren't meant to last forever."
"That's deep," Ray says from the floor. Bob snorts.
Gerard throws his arm over Mikey's shoulder. "Some things do last forever, you know. Like me and you. We'll always be brothers."
"That might be even more profound," Bob says to Ray, and Ray giggles, high-pitched and ridiculous.
Mikey just says, "Yeah, Gee. I know."
He leans in, laying his head against Gerard's shoulder and Gerard turns his head, letting his cheek rest against Mikey's damp hair. It feels good, sitting like that, and they stay in that position, watching the other guys, quietly bent around each other, for a long time.
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(no subject)
8/2/08 11:17 (UTC)(no subject)
8/2/08 11:29 (UTC)Also, does my actual comment pass, then? :D
(No, seriously, this surpassed my expectations by not only being good, but being exactly how I didn't realise I wanted it to work out, and as a bonus, not coming near any of my sibling squick lines at all. I ask again: ARE YOU MAGIC? *looks suspicious*)
(Also- you'd, like tell me (or, okay, get someone else to kick me, please, at least) if I was sounding creepy/over the top commenting, right? I am just all conscious all of a sudden of just HOW MUCH of my bandom squee/comments/etc seems to berth itself in your comment pages. Um. /selfconsciousness)
(no subject)
8/2/08 12:13 (UTC)(no subject)
8/2/08 12:18 (UTC)(1.20am - no more coherent than an hour ago! Hee. *goes on a quest for coke, waves happily in your direction*)