brb reading templar
I paused in my reading to see what I was missing on delicious and MAN there's a lot of Brendon/Spencer's I have to catch up on. So exciting! My xmas is vacation is going to be filled with lovely fic!
Also, you know who's tough to write? Joe. Joe is motherfucking hard to write. I think that's what's taking me so long to finish this. Argle.
“We’re getting a beer,” Bob says as Joe’s slipping out of his car, and Joe jumps and hits his head on the doorframe, because what the fuck.
“Maybe you could try a little harder at the stealth, dude, you’re not quite ninja yet,” Joe says, rubbing his head.
Bob quirks an amused lip. “Yeah, maybe.”
Joe snorts, and then Bob’s words catch up to him and he says, “Wait, what?” Is Bob asking him out? And is it, like, buddy-out, or. Or something else, something involving Bob attacking his face again. Joe would probably not be adverse to that, honestly.
“Beer. Maybe dinner, have you eaten?”
Joe glances at his watch. It’s, like, 4:30 in the afternoon. Unless Joe’s secretly a senior citizen, it’s a good bet that he hasn’t eaten yet. “Um. No?”
There’s a suspicious redness around Bob’s collar. Bob shifts on his feet and says, “Good.”
“Right.” Joe nods. Awkward.
“We can-” Bob starts, just as Joe says, “I should-”
Bob waves a hand and Joe says again, “I should let Hemmy out. I’ll, um-be over in fifteen?”
Bob says, “Okay.” He’s smiling a little and staring at Joe, and Joe’s never been an eyes guy, really, but Bob has awesome eyes. Like, seriously hardcore awesome eyes, and Joe’s really fucked. He was fucked before, yes, but now it’s for real.
Also, you know who's tough to write? Joe. Joe is motherfucking hard to write. I think that's what's taking me so long to finish this. Argle.
“We’re getting a beer,” Bob says as Joe’s slipping out of his car, and Joe jumps and hits his head on the doorframe, because what the fuck.
“Maybe you could try a little harder at the stealth, dude, you’re not quite ninja yet,” Joe says, rubbing his head.
Bob quirks an amused lip. “Yeah, maybe.”
Joe snorts, and then Bob’s words catch up to him and he says, “Wait, what?” Is Bob asking him out? And is it, like, buddy-out, or. Or something else, something involving Bob attacking his face again. Joe would probably not be adverse to that, honestly.
“Beer. Maybe dinner, have you eaten?”
Joe glances at his watch. It’s, like, 4:30 in the afternoon. Unless Joe’s secretly a senior citizen, it’s a good bet that he hasn’t eaten yet. “Um. No?”
There’s a suspicious redness around Bob’s collar. Bob shifts on his feet and says, “Good.”
“Right.” Joe nods. Awkward.
“We can-” Bob starts, just as Joe says, “I should-”
Bob waves a hand and Joe says again, “I should let Hemmy out. I’ll, um-be over in fifteen?”
Bob says, “Okay.” He’s smiling a little and staring at Joe, and Joe’s never been an eyes guy, really, but Bob has awesome eyes. Like, seriously hardcore awesome eyes, and Joe’s really fucked. He was fucked before, yes, but now it’s for real.