Aliens stole my keyboard...
Mar. 3rd, 2008 12:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darkluna...and they used it to write comment!fic for a fandom ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
camillabloom invented singlehandedly. I dunno, I can't fathom their reasons. It's, um. Kind of. Mello/L/Bill Kaulitz. Or something. Looks PG-rated to me.
Bill was surprised to see that the friend Mello had talked about so enthusiastically was kind of a weird-looking guy. Great hair, though, and a makeup job that made his eerily alert eyes look huge. "How did you do that?" he asked.
Ryuzaki didn't bother taking his thumb out of his mouth when he answered. "How did I do what, exactly?"
"Get your eyeliner so perfect."
"I'm not wearing any."
"No way." Bill peered at the other man. Up close, he had the kind of perfect, pale skin that goth kids would die for. Ryuzaki stared up at him, and Bill unthinkingly lifted a hand and traced one of the dark smudges beneath his eyes. It wasn't makeup. "That's... wild."
Ryuzaki made a small, annoyed noise, took Bill's hand, and gently but emphatically moved it away. "You could have just believed me."
"Hey!" Mello had arrived back from taking a call outside at exactly the wrong moment, and stood in the doorway looking like wrath personified, if wrath had really good fashion sense. "The hell is this?"
"It was a simple misunderstanding over cosmetics," Ryuzaki said.
"Hmph. Well, all right," Mello said. But he stepped closer to Bill and snaked an arm around his waist with clear proprietary intent.
And Bill certainly wasn't gay, but he still felt kind of flattered.
ETA: The aliens are also beaming the thought into my brain that L and Bill have pretty similar hairstyles. And there's the eyeliner (or sleep deprivation). And Operative C's research has turned up other similarities as well. Hmm. If you were totally, truly, not gay, but there was this pretty boy who liked you, you'd probably want to be sure he liked you, right? Y'know, as a point of interest. :D
ETA again. Oh, dear fuck, there's more. This looks PG too. At least the aliens have some discretion. But they are are beaming music directly to my MP3 player. That's the only explanation I have for how that Tokio Hotel got on there.
Bill is not an airhead, though he knows people think so. They take one look at him and write him off as just a pretty face, or smile patronisingly when he fumbles for the right English word.
He feels pretty close to dumb around Mello, though, and tends to doubt his usually pretty good instincts about people. Mello has a way of making him second-guess everything. Well, almost everything. He's still definitely not gay.
One gets used to certain things. The tedium punctuated by chaos that is life on the road. The fact that looking like one has just this moment rolled out of bed with makeup inexplicably perfect takes effort, often an hour of it. The pretty-enough-to-be-a-girl genius who has, also inexplicably, taken an interest in touching one as often as possible.
Said genius is currently lounging on the dressing-room sofa, his presence filling up the room in a way that shouldn't be possible for someone so skinny.
"Your friend seems... nice?" Bill says, full awareness of how lame this is making him turn it into a question.
Mello gives him a look that says he sees it's lame too.
"It's kinda weird how we have the same hairstyle. And sit sort of the same way? Right? Weird?"
"Are you getting at something?"
"Er." Only Mello can make Bill feel this awkward. Only Mello can make his mind twist so that he has to know if Mello likes him or the echo of someone he couldn't have. "Do you only like me because I remind you of Ryuzaki?" he says very fast.
"What do you care? I thought this was about— what was it? How I'm entertaining, and always have the best candy?"
Bill almost winces at how callous his words sound, parroted back to him. "I wasn't trying to be mean."
"I know."
"So," Bill says, though he knows he really ought to drop it, "why do you like me?"
Mello rolls his eyes. "For someone so hot, you are really fucking insecure. Who the hell knows? Maybe I'm a masochist. Maybe I think you're in denial and it's cute. Maybe you're entertaining."
"But. Which one is it?"
"Denial. Cute. For now." He puts on a pretty good show of looking irritated, but there's a little twitch of amusement at one corner of his mouth, and Bill grins back at him as if Mello had actually smiled.
After all, one gets used to certain things.
---
Yeah. Slow day at work.
camillabloom invented singlehandedly. I dunno, I can't fathom their reasons. It's, um. Kind of. Mello/L/Bill Kaulitz. Or something. Looks PG-rated to me.Bill was surprised to see that the friend Mello had talked about so enthusiastically was kind of a weird-looking guy. Great hair, though, and a makeup job that made his eerily alert eyes look huge. "How did you do that?" he asked.
Ryuzaki didn't bother taking his thumb out of his mouth when he answered. "How did I do what, exactly?"
"Get your eyeliner so perfect."
"I'm not wearing any."
"No way." Bill peered at the other man. Up close, he had the kind of perfect, pale skin that goth kids would die for. Ryuzaki stared up at him, and Bill unthinkingly lifted a hand and traced one of the dark smudges beneath his eyes. It wasn't makeup. "That's... wild."
Ryuzaki made a small, annoyed noise, took Bill's hand, and gently but emphatically moved it away. "You could have just believed me."
"Hey!" Mello had arrived back from taking a call outside at exactly the wrong moment, and stood in the doorway looking like wrath personified, if wrath had really good fashion sense. "The hell is this?"
"It was a simple misunderstanding over cosmetics," Ryuzaki said.
"Hmph. Well, all right," Mello said. But he stepped closer to Bill and snaked an arm around his waist with clear proprietary intent.
And Bill certainly wasn't gay, but he still felt kind of flattered.
ETA: The aliens are also beaming the thought into my brain that L and Bill have pretty similar hairstyles. And there's the eyeliner (or sleep deprivation). And Operative C's research has turned up other similarities as well. Hmm. If you were totally, truly, not gay, but there was this pretty boy who liked you, you'd probably want to be sure he liked you, right? Y'know, as a point of interest. :D
ETA again. Oh, dear fuck, there's more. This looks PG too. At least the aliens have some discretion. But they are are beaming music directly to my MP3 player. That's the only explanation I have for how that Tokio Hotel got on there.
Bill is not an airhead, though he knows people think so. They take one look at him and write him off as just a pretty face, or smile patronisingly when he fumbles for the right English word.
He feels pretty close to dumb around Mello, though, and tends to doubt his usually pretty good instincts about people. Mello has a way of making him second-guess everything. Well, almost everything. He's still definitely not gay.
One gets used to certain things. The tedium punctuated by chaos that is life on the road. The fact that looking like one has just this moment rolled out of bed with makeup inexplicably perfect takes effort, often an hour of it. The pretty-enough-to-be-a-girl genius who has, also inexplicably, taken an interest in touching one as often as possible.
Said genius is currently lounging on the dressing-room sofa, his presence filling up the room in a way that shouldn't be possible for someone so skinny.
"Your friend seems... nice?" Bill says, full awareness of how lame this is making him turn it into a question.
Mello gives him a look that says he sees it's lame too.
"It's kinda weird how we have the same hairstyle. And sit sort of the same way? Right? Weird?"
"Are you getting at something?"
"Er." Only Mello can make Bill feel this awkward. Only Mello can make his mind twist so that he has to know if Mello likes him or the echo of someone he couldn't have. "Do you only like me because I remind you of Ryuzaki?" he says very fast.
"What do you care? I thought this was about— what was it? How I'm entertaining, and always have the best candy?"
Bill almost winces at how callous his words sound, parroted back to him. "I wasn't trying to be mean."
"I know."
"So," Bill says, though he knows he really ought to drop it, "why do you like me?"
Mello rolls his eyes. "For someone so hot, you are really fucking insecure. Who the hell knows? Maybe I'm a masochist. Maybe I think you're in denial and it's cute. Maybe you're entertaining."
"But. Which one is it?"
"Denial. Cute. For now." He puts on a pretty good show of looking irritated, but there's a little twitch of amusement at one corner of his mouth, and Bill grins back at him as if Mello had actually smiled.
After all, one gets used to certain things.
---
Yeah. Slow day at work.
