3rd Floor Common Room, Thursday Evening

[wwiii]

It was definitely going to be one of those evenings. One of those weird ones. The sort that reminded unsuspecting passers-by that, in no uncertain terms, they were living on Fandom Island.

How did it manage such a thing?

Well, that there were two boys in the common room, exchanging gossip, probably wasn't all that new. That they were in their underwear, on the other hand, was probably an indication that things were a little off. One of the boys, the one who was wearing the world's most boring grey boxer shorts, was at least still wrapped in black leather from his nose down to his navel. The other, in white briefs, had his large white wings folded behind him.

Both of them were quite comfortable on the floor, surrounded by cushions from the couch, sparkly make-up, and girly teen magazines. Warren was painting his fingernails in a vivid shade of sparkly blue. Jono was hugging a pillow to his chest, reaching over occasionally to pet a bewildered kitten with a big pink bow around her neck, while reading off the questions to an 'Is He Really Into You' quiz to Warren.

By the end of the quiz, it became apparent that whoever 'he' was, they simply weren't as into Warren as he might have hoped, and with an indignant squeal of "Omigod! Not fair," the winged one capped his nail polish, reached for his pillow, bounced to his feet, and let Jonothon have it.

Oh, it was on.

[I totally blame glacial_witch and trigons_child for this one. The common room is open, for anyone who wants to either rescue the boys from this indignity, pull out a video camera, or join in the pillow fight!]

Comments

[onapalebicycle.livejournal.com]

"Okay, good," George said. "The CDs, too. If ... I can find them. And anything you put up in the room that's pink, I get to set on fire."

He might think that was a joke about his condition. It wasn't. It was a promise.

[furnaceface]

Joni would appreciate that, at least.

Just, please, George, remove the bow she was wearing before burning it, or she'd be a very sad kitty.

//Ohmigod! No touching my Miley CDs!//

Jonothon was fortunate that film couldn't pick up on the things that he was saying. Warren was way, way more screwed, in that regard.

[onapalebicycle.livejournal.com]

Hey, the humor was at least starting to hit George.

"I'm going to be saying that to you a lot, in the future," she beamed. "When you're not crazy any more. It'll be awesome. I can make you wince with six words."

[wwiii]

"You're talking weird," Warren complained, leaning over Jono's shoulder and sticking out his lower lip at George. "There's nothing crazy about liking Miley!"

Jono would so, so disagree, later.

[onapalebicycle.livejournal.com]

"... You should sing one of her songs," George decided. The possible torture of that would be eclipsed by the potential for hilarity. She hoped.

[furnaceface]

Jono glanced at Warren. Hey, there was an idea.

//I like Party in the USA,// he suggested. Because there was no way at all that this could possibly go wrong! Ever!

[onapalebicycle.livejournal.com]

"Hang on," George said. "I'm sure there's a camera, somewhere in my room."

[wwiii]

"We can wait," Warren decided, quite happily. "After all, I need to work on my dance steps, first."

Heaven save them both.

[Bedtime! Sp?]