I'm sort of desperately in need of a distraction* (as if you couldn't tell from the two other posts I've made today). Since I've also been turning myself in circles as far as fic goes (dear brain: please to be stopping the overthinking), I figured I could attempt to kill two birds with one stone
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Gerard's not sober, not even close, and it's probably a bad idea to let him near Bob's eyes with anything pointy at all, but Bob's not entirely sober himself.
"It'll be fucking great." Gerard's enthusiasm is a shaky glittering thing that Bob doesn't entirely trust. "You'll see."
Gerard comes at him with a lit cigarette in one hand and a fucking multi-tiered case of make-up in the other, and Bob's starting to rethink this whole thing. Before he can say anything, Gerard plants himself in Bob's lap and opens the case on the bed beside them.
Bob makes a drunken promise to himself right then that he will never again room with Gerard, no matter what. Bad things always happen. Like that thing with the shower curtain and toilet, which scarred Bob for life. And now this, with the make-up ( ... )
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And, oh, yes, me and cigarettes while drunk have led to so many singes over the years. *facepalm*
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