spreading the love
nunshavingfun on new Panic: It's like the Beatles turned gay and started thinking about unicorns.
I think that sums up very neatly both my love for her and for Panic, okay? Okay.
I have nothing else to say, as I am boring. Have some Gabe.
“The cobra has arrived,” Gabe shouts as he climbs out of the car, and a crowd of guys whoop back at him, and Ryan thinks, oh fuck, we’re at a jock party, and he thinks maybe they’re going to get killed.
He grips Spencer’s arm tight. “We’re going to get killed.”
VickyT smiles at them around a cigarette, but doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t really help Ryan relax.
Bill wraps an arm around Spencer’s shoulders, says, “Spencer, my boy, come, let me show you the wondrous joys of keg stands, the decadent ways of the beer bong, the burning caress of cheap vodka straight out of Chislett’s hip flask.”
“Um.” Spencer sends Ryan a shrug, then lets himself get pulled along.
Ryan stuffs his hands in his pockets and trails reluctantly behind them.
Three hours later, Spencer’s passed out in the back of the Le Baron. Ryan’s holding a plastic cup of watery beer, making small talk with Nick Wheeler - and why the hell Wheeler’s there, Ryan isn’t sure, since Wheeler’s a music geek and has his mom write notes to get him out of gym, which is more than Ryan’s ever done to avoid physical fitness - and he looks up at a yell, spotting Gabe standing on top of a stump in the middle of the clearing.
“You call this a fucking party?” Gabe shouts. He tosses what looks like his lacrosse jacket into the bonfire, holds his hands up and out and says, “The cobra demands more beer,” and then he sort of stumbles down and disappears into the horde of drunken teenagers.
Wheeler goes, “Huh,” and, “So your stepbrother’s a little-”
“I should go find him,” Ryan says, because he can still hear Gabe’s voice above everyone else’s, and he’s pretty sure he just said something along the lines of, “How much for the little girl?”
I think that sums up very neatly both my love for her and for Panic, okay? Okay.
I have nothing else to say, as I am boring. Have some Gabe.
“The cobra has arrived,” Gabe shouts as he climbs out of the car, and a crowd of guys whoop back at him, and Ryan thinks, oh fuck, we’re at a jock party, and he thinks maybe they’re going to get killed.
He grips Spencer’s arm tight. “We’re going to get killed.”
VickyT smiles at them around a cigarette, but doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t really help Ryan relax.
Bill wraps an arm around Spencer’s shoulders, says, “Spencer, my boy, come, let me show you the wondrous joys of keg stands, the decadent ways of the beer bong, the burning caress of cheap vodka straight out of Chislett’s hip flask.”
“Um.” Spencer sends Ryan a shrug, then lets himself get pulled along.
Ryan stuffs his hands in his pockets and trails reluctantly behind them.
Three hours later, Spencer’s passed out in the back of the Le Baron. Ryan’s holding a plastic cup of watery beer, making small talk with Nick Wheeler - and why the hell Wheeler’s there, Ryan isn’t sure, since Wheeler’s a music geek and has his mom write notes to get him out of gym, which is more than Ryan’s ever done to avoid physical fitness - and he looks up at a yell, spotting Gabe standing on top of a stump in the middle of the clearing.
“You call this a fucking party?” Gabe shouts. He tosses what looks like his lacrosse jacket into the bonfire, holds his hands up and out and says, “The cobra demands more beer,” and then he sort of stumbles down and disappears into the horde of drunken teenagers.
Wheeler goes, “Huh,” and, “So your stepbrother’s a little-”
“I should go find him,” Ryan says, because he can still hear Gabe’s voice above everyone else’s, and he’s pretty sure he just said something along the lines of, “How much for the little girl?”