(no subject)
Title: And the Winner Is...
Pairing: Bob/Mikey
Author:
spilledxperfume
Summary: When Mikey bakes, everyone caters to his whims.
Rating: PG 13
Beta: Me, the spelling and grammar nazi.
Author’s note: Just a short little one-shot. My mom and sister gave me the words "bread," "glittens," and "hand lotion."
Mikey pulled a loaf of fresh bread from the oven and placed the pan carefully on the granite-topped island in his kitchen. The scent wafted through the house, enticing Frank and Bob to get off the couch and make their way to the kitchen. Gerard and Ray appeared from wherever they’d been hiding as the mouthwatering aroma reached them. Hands on his hips, Mikey stood guard in front of the steaming bread and glared at them. “Get away, vultures ” he warned, “This bread is for one person, and one person only.”
The four boys stopped, and glanced around at each other, trying to figure out who he meant. “Uh, who?” Frank asked.
“The winner,” Mikey replied cryptically. “Aaaaand GO ”
Again, the boys exchanged glances. Mikey simply turned around and began loosening the bread from the pan, leaving his friends confused.
After Mikey left the room, Gerard led Ray, Bob, and Frank in a meeting of the minds. Knowing Mikey would be mad if they just took the bread, they decided to play his little game. “He probably just wants us to suck up to him,” Ray said. Everyone agreed that this was likely and set off to win the loaf of homemade bread. After all, who can resist a fresh loaf of homemade cinnamon bread?
~RAY~
I decided to do Mikey’s laundry. I snuck into his room and gathered up the dark mass of his black hoodies, t-shirts, and skinny jeans. I didn’t even have to worry about sorting whites and colors. But when I went to get the first load, something was wrong. I held up a faded Anthrax t-shirt that would have fit Mikey ten years ago. Skinny as he was, I’d shrunk all of his t-shirts so small that he wouldn’t even be able to get into them. I sighed and tried to get them back in his room without him seeing. I’d lost.
~FRANK~
I’d been knitting those damn glittens for a month and a half. And now, for a fresh baked loaf of bread, I gave them up. All wrapped up with a pretty bow. And they were sparkly too. I didn’t even win. Stupid Gerard.
~GERARD~
Well, I tried my best. Frank only saw the beginning of my gift. He didn’t see me lose. Anyway, he got mad and stomped off.
I got out my favorite lavender and chamomile hand lotion and waited for Mikey to sit down. Then, I got down in front of him, pulled of his (disgustingly smelly) socks and shoes and gave him the best foot rub of his life. He threw his head back and moaned. He even SAID how amazing it was. And he knows I don’t like feet. But stupid Bob had to go and ruin all my hard work.
~Bob~
I knew exactly how to win this game. I know Mikey pretty well, despite not having known him as long as the others. And OK, maybe I have a little crush on him.
Gerard’s foot rub was good, I’ll admit, but Mikey’s reaction was better. He looked like sex. And is it really my fault that I couldn’t help giving him what I knew he wanted right in front of his big brother?
I straddled him, pushed him back against the chair, and kissed him. Rough, messy, and deep.
~Mikey~
Bob. Wins. Forever.
Pairing: Bob/Mikey
Author:
spilledxperfume
Summary: When Mikey bakes, everyone caters to his whims.
Rating: PG 13
Beta: Me, the spelling and grammar nazi.
Author’s note: Just a short little one-shot. My mom and sister gave me the words "bread," "glittens," and "hand lotion."
Mikey pulled a loaf of fresh bread from the oven and placed the pan carefully on the granite-topped island in his kitchen. The scent wafted through the house, enticing Frank and Bob to get off the couch and make their way to the kitchen. Gerard and Ray appeared from wherever they’d been hiding as the mouthwatering aroma reached them. Hands on his hips, Mikey stood guard in front of the steaming bread and glared at them. “Get away, vultures ” he warned, “This bread is for one person, and one person only.”
The four boys stopped, and glanced around at each other, trying to figure out who he meant. “Uh, who?” Frank asked.
“The winner,” Mikey replied cryptically. “Aaaaand GO ”
Again, the boys exchanged glances. Mikey simply turned around and began loosening the bread from the pan, leaving his friends confused.
After Mikey left the room, Gerard led Ray, Bob, and Frank in a meeting of the minds. Knowing Mikey would be mad if they just took the bread, they decided to play his little game. “He probably just wants us to suck up to him,” Ray said. Everyone agreed that this was likely and set off to win the loaf of homemade bread. After all, who can resist a fresh loaf of homemade cinnamon bread?
~RAY~
I decided to do Mikey’s laundry. I snuck into his room and gathered up the dark mass of his black hoodies, t-shirts, and skinny jeans. I didn’t even have to worry about sorting whites and colors. But when I went to get the first load, something was wrong. I held up a faded Anthrax t-shirt that would have fit Mikey ten years ago. Skinny as he was, I’d shrunk all of his t-shirts so small that he wouldn’t even be able to get into them. I sighed and tried to get them back in his room without him seeing. I’d lost.
~FRANK~
I’d been knitting those damn glittens for a month and a half. And now, for a fresh baked loaf of bread, I gave them up. All wrapped up with a pretty bow. And they were sparkly too. I didn’t even win. Stupid Gerard.
~GERARD~
Well, I tried my best. Frank only saw the beginning of my gift. He didn’t see me lose. Anyway, he got mad and stomped off.
I got out my favorite lavender and chamomile hand lotion and waited for Mikey to sit down. Then, I got down in front of him, pulled of his (disgustingly smelly) socks and shoes and gave him the best foot rub of his life. He threw his head back and moaned. He even SAID how amazing it was. And he knows I don’t like feet. But stupid Bob had to go and ruin all my hard work.
~Bob~
I knew exactly how to win this game. I know Mikey pretty well, despite not having known him as long as the others. And OK, maybe I have a little crush on him.
Gerard’s foot rub was good, I’ll admit, but Mikey’s reaction was better. He looked like sex. And is it really my fault that I couldn’t help giving him what I knew he wanted right in front of his big brother?
I straddled him, pushed him back against the chair, and kissed him. Rough, messy, and deep.
~Mikey~
Bob. Wins. Forever.