Not criminally responsible
Mmm, week over. Paper nearly over. CRACK OVER! This one kind of ate away at my soul...so, it had better be worth it. :D
Randy/Gale RPS, Disneyland for url_girl| 467 words | Queer as Folk RPS
Many thanks to theleapingmuse for her solemn and wise advice: "You can get away with ANYTHING when the people are high."
Idea and inspiration from url_girl
“You,” Gale declares, slumping down on the (very uncomfortable, very well-polished) park bench and shading his eyes from the sunlight, “are a fucking mess.” Holding his hand over his eyes wasn’t helping - it was just after noon and the sun was almost directly overhead and beaming sharp and hot and white through the spaces between his fingers. At least - and he really did mean least, it hid the sight of Randy’s godawful gaudy red nail polish.
“Am not.” Randy mumbled, distractedly. He was pawing at his face feebly, trying to unstick the cotton candy that he had (”Oh PLEEEAAASEEE Gale?”) wanted so much. “‘S sticky bastard.” He gave up, slumping down next to Gale, blinking and blinking his eyes as the hot sun threatened to harden the sweet pink fluff clinging to his eyelashes and glue his eyes shut.
“You can’t eat cotton candy without getting it all over your face like three-year old,” Gale continued, voice cracking just a bit. A morning of roller coasters, thrill rides and an unfortunate incident with something Randy had called the “Golden Horseshoe Saloon” seemed to do that. “You let Snow White paint your nails-”
“Please don’t tell Simon about that,” Randy interrupted. He idly scratched the cherry red sheen on one nail, going slightly wide-eyed when the surface remained unscathed. “Oh my GOD, it’s permanent. FUCK.”
“-And,” Gale continued, ignoring Randy’s hysterics, “You got lost and wandered back an hour later with these...hats.” He adjusted the Mickey ears perched cutely atop his head as they wavered (wondering briefly why he didn’t just pitch them in the nearest trash can)
“They’re supposed to look stupid,” Randy countered, still frantically scratching at his nails. “It’s...what do you call it? Ritual? Tradition? Part of the experience?”
“The Disneyland experience.” He squinted over at Randy - that sun. He’d buy some sunglasses if they weren’t all shaped like giant mouse-heads. “Why?”
Randy shrugged. “Gayest place on earth?” he offered.
Gale sighed and slumped back down. “Why, do they sell blowjobs on the corner?”
“They should. Where next?”
“Um...somewhere bright. Crowded. Lots of witnes - small children!” Randy always got unusually perky when someone (particularly Gale) said “blowjob”. It was...disconcerting. And usually good cause for panic.
“I was thinking...more along the lines of back at the hotel?” Gale peered over (against his better judgement) and oh fuck, fuck fuck, Randy was smiling his Best Seductive Smile.
“No.” Best to be firm before he got...hard.
“Gale.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Jacuzzi bathtub. Complete privacy.”
Gale fell silent. This was really not a good idea, for an almost infinite number of solid, logical reasons. Really good reasons.
“I’ll wear that schoolgirl costume,” Randy whispered hotly, “The one with that little tartan skirt.”
As it turns out, Roger Rabbit's Car Toon Spin was worth missing.
Randy/Gale RPS, Disneyland for url_girl| 467 words | Queer as Folk RPS
Many thanks to theleapingmuse for her solemn and wise advice: "You can get away with ANYTHING when the people are high."
Idea and inspiration from url_girl
“You,” Gale declares, slumping down on the (very uncomfortable, very well-polished) park bench and shading his eyes from the sunlight, “are a fucking mess.” Holding his hand over his eyes wasn’t helping - it was just after noon and the sun was almost directly overhead and beaming sharp and hot and white through the spaces between his fingers. At least - and he really did mean least, it hid the sight of Randy’s godawful gaudy red nail polish.
“Am not.” Randy mumbled, distractedly. He was pawing at his face feebly, trying to unstick the cotton candy that he had (”Oh PLEEEAAASEEE Gale?”) wanted so much. “‘S sticky bastard.” He gave up, slumping down next to Gale, blinking and blinking his eyes as the hot sun threatened to harden the sweet pink fluff clinging to his eyelashes and glue his eyes shut.
“You can’t eat cotton candy without getting it all over your face like three-year old,” Gale continued, voice cracking just a bit. A morning of roller coasters, thrill rides and an unfortunate incident with something Randy had called the “Golden Horseshoe Saloon” seemed to do that. “You let Snow White paint your nails-”
“Please don’t tell Simon about that,” Randy interrupted. He idly scratched the cherry red sheen on one nail, going slightly wide-eyed when the surface remained unscathed. “Oh my GOD, it’s permanent. FUCK.”
“-And,” Gale continued, ignoring Randy’s hysterics, “You got lost and wandered back an hour later with these...hats.” He adjusted the Mickey ears perched cutely atop his head as they wavered (wondering briefly why he didn’t just pitch them in the nearest trash can)
“They’re supposed to look stupid,” Randy countered, still frantically scratching at his nails. “It’s...what do you call it? Ritual? Tradition? Part of the experience?”
“The Disneyland experience.” He squinted over at Randy - that sun. He’d buy some sunglasses if they weren’t all shaped like giant mouse-heads. “Why?”
Randy shrugged. “Gayest place on earth?” he offered.
Gale sighed and slumped back down. “Why, do they sell blowjobs on the corner?”
“They should. Where next?”
“Um...somewhere bright. Crowded. Lots of witnes - small children!” Randy always got unusually perky when someone (particularly Gale) said “blowjob”. It was...disconcerting. And usually good cause for panic.
“I was thinking...more along the lines of back at the hotel?” Gale peered over (against his better judgement) and oh fuck, fuck fuck, Randy was smiling his Best Seductive Smile.
“No.” Best to be firm before he got...hard.
“Gale.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Jacuzzi bathtub. Complete privacy.”
Gale fell silent. This was really not a good idea, for an almost infinite number of solid, logical reasons. Really good reasons.
“I’ll wear that schoolgirl costume,” Randy whispered hotly, “The one with that little tartan skirt.”
As it turns out, Roger Rabbit's Car Toon Spin was worth missing.