KISSING MEME
WOW, this day will not end. I am staring at sheets of numbers, figures, and paperwork that make my eyeballs hurt. LOLZ DEADLINES, WHAT ARE THOSE?
SO. Here's what I propose:
♥ Kissing Meme ♥
Comment with no less than 100 words of kissing. ANY KISSING, even if it's nothing but eskimo kisses and/or neck nuzzling! Porn is not necessary, but always ( Read more... )
SO. Here's what I propose:
♥ Kissing Meme ♥
Comment with no less than 100 words of kissing. ANY KISSING, even if it's nothing but eskimo kisses and/or neck nuzzling! Porn is not necessary, but always ( Read more... )
A hand flies out of nowhere on Spencer's left side. Its nails are shiny and perfectly manicured. "Hi," it says in a beyond cheerful voice. Spencer then realizes the hand is attached to an arm which is attached to a person.
It is early.
Spencer takes the offered hand and shakes it. It's soft. "Must be the new guy," he says against the fist he's leaning on. This new guy is interrupting his sulky leaning. Now only one of his cheeks are squished instead of two.
"Not a morning person, huh?" the new guy says.
"If you say something about having a case of the Mondays, I'll kick you in the shin."
New guy giggles. God, what a dick.
"I'm Brendon," he says. "Spencer Smith, right? It says on your nameplate, is how I know," he explains before Spencer can ask.
Spencer notices they are still clasping hands. He takes his away and props it up under his empty cheek so both of them are smooshed up enough that they make his eyes close slightly. He hates working here. He hates 7am, he hates business casual attire, he hates spreadsheets and invoices and feeling like he's doing nothing. All he does is stare at a screen on a desk, privately tapping out rhythms on his keyboard.
"Want some coffee?" Brendon asks. "I'm going to the kitchen anyway. And since I'm the new guy, I can be like, the office bitch. It's like prison!"
Spencer nods as best he can in his current head-in-hands position. "Shrr," he says, his lips pushed out.
"Okay," Brendon smiles and pats his shoulder as he skips away. He literally skips, waving to everyone he passes, stopping once to yoink something from Patrick's candy dish.
Maybe today, Spencer hates working here a tiny, itty bitty yellow polka dot less.
---
"Hey, Spencer," Brendon says. He turns all the way around in his swivel chair and scoots up to the front of Spencer's desk.
"Yeah?" Spencer is in the middle of whiting something out. It's a very delicate process that calls for nearly all of his concentration, like disarming a bomb.
"You ever play Cat's Cradle?" Brendon asks.
"What?" Spencer looks up. Brendon is holding a loop of twine. "Why do you have a piece of twine on you?"
"I keep it in my wallet for emergencies and special occasions," he says, lifting his eyebrows and catching his tongue between his smile. Brendon's face moves constantly when he speaks, like it's possessed by bunnies on fire.
"No, I've never played Cat's Cradle."
After several excruciating minutes and about a million tries ("Pinch the X's -- you see the X's? -- pinch them with your thumb and forefinger. No, the other way. No, the other way. No, the other way. No -- there. Okay, now pull them out. No, the other way. Okay, good, now pull them under and through the middle. Put all your fingers through. Good, yes, good, keep going -- Noooooo! Okay, that's okay, let's start over."), Spencer successfully transfers the twine from Brendon's hands to his own.
"You did it!" Brendon says in a disproportionately proud and excited manner.
"Doesn't look like a cradle to me," Spencer says, looking at his hands so he doesn't have to look at Brendon. He feels funny.
Brendon untangles the twine from Spencer's fingers and hangs it on the corner of Spencer's monitor.
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Spencer shuts down his computer and grabs his messenger bag. "You outta here now?" he asks Brendon.
"Oh, yeah, I should've been gone like a half hour ago," he says, grabbing his own bag and standing up.
"Why aren't you?"
"I was waiting for you," he says. "Shall I walk you to your car, Spencer Smith?" He holds out his arm. Spencer, again, feels funny, but he loops his arm through Brendon's anyway.
"Like Cat's Cradle," he says stupidly. Brendon giggles with his shoulders shrugged up in glee.
They go to say good night at Spencer's 1996 Ford Escort. The office parking lot is nearly empty. Brendon squints at Spencer's face suddenly and says, "Hey, Spencer, c'mere." He motions with his hand for Spencer to come closer.
Brendon licks his thumb like he's turning a page and rubs it up and down twice in the center of Spencer's bottom lip.
"You had some white out on you," he says.
"Oh," Spencer says. He feels the funniest he's felt all day. "Did you get all of it?"
Brendon steps closer and licks Spencer's lip in the same spot. He leans back and squints again.
"Yeah, now I did."
Spencer really wants to lick his own lip. It's wet.
"See you tomorrow?" Brendon asks, a jillion watt grin on his stupid face.
"Yeah, tomorrow."
Spencer loves working here.
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::cough::
You should write more.
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It was lovely.
Also? I want to snuggle Brendon so hardcore in your icon.
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2. Spencer feeling funny = me feeling amazing.
3. NEXT BRENDON!FACE icon keywords are going to include "BUNNIES ON FIRE."
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2. HIS CHEST FEELS GOOEY FOR BRENDINE GRL.
3. I am honored. My train of thought was basically, "What moves a lot? Bunnies! Fire! Bunnies on fire!"
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...which would be all the time. Therefore they're always especially cute.
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