He doesn’t understand how Patrick always dodges this, but he’s mighty envious. Not that he doesn’t enjoy the tacos and beer, but the girls tend to forget that Joe is mostly gay, but not all gay, and also not actually a woman. Unlike Brendon. - It's just your special talent Joe.
--
Joe never suspected he had a thing for shiny machines until he’d nearly whited-out in the lawn care aisle. - heeee
--
“Seriously, dude, if you’re gonna break my clavicle go ahead and do it already, fucking—” Joe almost calls him a manner-less heathen, but realizes at the last second that it’d totally make him sound like his gamma, and Joe is not that lame. Really.
The guy drops his hand, though, and actually looks taken-aback – which he should – and says, “Sorry,” and, okay, is that a fucking blush? Joe is ninety-eight percent certain the guy is—blushing. - Joe and Bob's 1st meeting is just made of WIN! heehehehe!
--
He’s just filled a glass of water at the sink when he happens to glance up and—and Bob doesn’t have his blinds drawn. Bob doesn’t have his blinds drawn, and Bob is standing in his own kitchen, and Bob is very, very naked. Like, epically naked.
The polite thing to do, okay, would be to turn away. Joe is not that polite. Holy hell. - I second that holy hell!
--
Joe collapses into his chair. “I used to be a guy, you know,” Joe says dejectedly.
“And then you gave up weed for Lent,” Jon says.
“What was I thinking?” Joe buries his face in his hands. “I’m Jewish. I don’t even know what Lent is.” - ROTFLMAO!!
--
t’s late when Joe finally makes it home. He’s shaky from exhaustion and fear, because Greta still hasn’t woken up and her mom had been bawling and Bill is kind of falling apart and Brendon’s, like, ten times smaller than usual and Joe doesn’t actually want to be alone, but they all left the hospital anyway. - Poor Greta! Poor guys!
--
And then he feels Bob’s hand clamp over the back of his neck, and it’s awesome and warm and, like, soothing, and Joe doesn’t want to move ever again. He wants to live right there forever. - awww
--
“Peachy,” Joe says. “You know, just, a good friend was beaten unconscious last night, but other than that.” - OMG! POOR GRETA!!
--
“Everything’s fine,” Brian says. He’s completely fucking calm, because nothing ever rocks Brian. “Greta’s mom called, she’s awake.” - YEAH!!
--
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. - YEAH!!!
--
Joe’s fingers automatically curl, digging into the fabric of Bob’s hoodie, and he makes an embarrassing choked noise in the back of his throat. Bob tugs on his hair and licks open his mouth and Joe arches his back when Bob’s palm slides down his spine. Bob has the back of Joe’s shirt up around his shoulder blades in seconds and Joe is well on his way to getting naked, he senses this, and then his phone beeps again. - Damn! foiled by Pete! But hot kissing is awesome! go bob and joe!
--
“Joe, hey—oh shit,” Brendon says, and then the line goes dead. Joe really doesn’t like that. That, Joe thinks, is a really fucking bad sign. - ACK!!!!
--
Brendon’s cuddling Dylan in his lap, and Joe’s hands are shaking. He hit that motherfucking prowler with a lamp. That sort of shit doesn’t happen outside of movies. - Go Joe! Bob's gonna be maaaaaaad though!
--
The idea that Singer had broken into Brendon’s house with intent to harm is laughable. Joe tries to get Bob to see this. - See! Bob's pissed and out for Singer's blood! Run Singer! Run!
--
Gabe isn’t harmless, but he’s fucking distinctive. Joe’s pretty sure he’d remember if he hit him with a lamp. - is it Gabe!!??
--
“He’s a gentleman,” Brendon says, half-defensively, half-dreamily, like he’s imagining Spencer as fucking Prince Charming or something. - hee! So sweet!
commentary as I read, Pt 1 (as LJ wouldn't let me post the entire thing)
--
Joe never suspected he had a thing for shiny machines until he’d nearly whited-out in the lawn care aisle. - heeee
--
“Seriously, dude, if you’re gonna break my clavicle go ahead and do it already, fucking—” Joe almost calls him a manner-less heathen, but realizes at the last second that it’d totally make him sound like his gamma, and Joe is not that lame. Really.
The guy drops his hand, though, and actually looks taken-aback – which he should – and says, “Sorry,” and, okay, is that a fucking blush? Joe is ninety-eight percent certain the guy is—blushing. - Joe and Bob's 1st meeting is just made of WIN! heehehehe!
--
He’s just filled a glass of water at the sink when he happens to glance up and—and Bob doesn’t have his blinds drawn. Bob doesn’t have his blinds drawn, and Bob is standing in his own kitchen, and Bob is very, very naked. Like, epically naked.
The polite thing to do, okay, would be to turn away. Joe is not that polite. Holy hell. - I second that holy hell!
--
Joe collapses into his chair. “I used to be a guy, you know,” Joe says dejectedly.
“And then you gave up weed for Lent,” Jon says.
“What was I thinking?” Joe buries his face in his hands. “I’m Jewish. I don’t even know what Lent is.” - ROTFLMAO!!
--
t’s late when Joe finally makes it home. He’s shaky from exhaustion and fear, because Greta still hasn’t woken up and her mom had been bawling and Bill is kind of falling apart and Brendon’s, like, ten times smaller than usual and Joe doesn’t actually want to be alone, but they all left the hospital anyway. - Poor Greta! Poor guys!
--
And then he feels Bob’s hand clamp over the back of his neck, and it’s awesome and warm and, like, soothing, and Joe doesn’t want to move ever again. He wants to live right there forever. - awww
--
“Peachy,” Joe says. “You know, just, a good friend was beaten unconscious last night, but other than that.” - OMG! POOR GRETA!!
--
“Everything’s fine,” Brian says. He’s completely fucking calm, because nothing ever rocks Brian. “Greta’s mom called, she’s awake.” - YEAH!!
--
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. - YEAH!!!
--
Joe’s fingers automatically curl, digging into the fabric of Bob’s hoodie, and he makes an embarrassing choked noise in the back of his throat. Bob tugs on his hair and licks open his mouth and Joe arches his back when Bob’s palm slides down his spine. Bob has the back of Joe’s shirt up around his shoulder blades in seconds and Joe is well on his way to getting naked, he senses this, and then his phone beeps again. - Damn! foiled by Pete! But hot kissing is awesome! go bob and joe!
--
“Joe, hey—oh shit,” Brendon says, and then the line goes dead. Joe really doesn’t like that. That, Joe thinks, is a really fucking bad sign. - ACK!!!!
--
Brendon’s cuddling Dylan in his lap, and Joe’s hands are shaking. He hit that motherfucking prowler with a lamp. That sort of shit doesn’t happen outside of movies. - Go Joe! Bob's gonna be maaaaaaad though!
--
The idea that Singer had broken into Brendon’s house with intent to harm is laughable. Joe tries to get Bob to see this. - See! Bob's pissed and out for Singer's blood! Run Singer! Run!
--
Gabe isn’t harmless, but he’s fucking distinctive. Joe’s pretty sure he’d remember if he hit him with a lamp. - is it Gabe!!??
--
“He’s a gentleman,” Brendon says, half-defensively, half-dreamily, like he’s imagining Spencer as fucking Prince Charming or something. - hee! So sweet!