pensnest | Bouquet

Carnation
bonds of affection, health and energy, fascination, alas for my poor heart

It was shaping up to be just another Monday when the call came.

Hey there. You got a few minutes?

Lance checked his watch, surprised. "Hey, Adam! I didn't think I'd hear from you until later. You've just finished soundcheck? Or are you about to start?"

No, we're done. TIme to go eat.

"You sound..." very down, he thought, but amended it to, "tired."

Oh, God, I'm just so... I sometimes think I'm not going to get through this tour. It's three more weeks, and it just looks like forever.

"You getting enough sleep? Taking care of yourself?"

I have so many vitamins every day it's a miracle I don't rattle. But sleep, I wish. It's crazy, I'm so tired, but after a show I'm just wide awake, the buzz, you know? And I can't go out to a club and dance it off because I get right back on the bus and we're off to the next city, and I'm lying there replaying the show in my head instead of getting to sleep.

Lance summoned Adam's itinerary onto his screen, though he'd practically memorized it. "Chicago should help. You have an overnight there, don't you? Maybe you can go out after the show tonight." Lance cringed from the thought of Adam going out. There'd be a sea of eager fans, and a cute boy would no doubt help him relax. It still wasn't something Lance wanted to have to think about. He made a practice of going out on the nights he knew Adam was not performing, just so that he didn't have to think about it. It sorta helped.

I have this meeting tomorrow, one of the RCA execs is coming to talk me through the schedule they've worked out. Taking advantage of the fact that I'm in a hotel tonight. So I don't get to sleep late.

"What's their rush? They couldn't wait until the tour's over?"

I don't know. I think there's some talks going on about my contract. Anyway. They want me to sign off on this thing. He sounded so miserable, Lance wondered what the hell was going on. Surely the record company weren't planning to drop—no, no record company would be that stupid. But something was clearly not right.

"Is there a problem with that?"

I guess... not. I just thought I'd have a chance to rest, you know? I mean, they want me to start working on the next album right off, they have release dates already, and I know it's great that I'm getting the chance to make another one—

"With your sales figures they'd be insane not to want one."

Two, they have two more on the schedule, but the way I feel right now I don't know if I can, I haven't written anything in weeks, and I need to, like, recharge. Maybe I'll feel better after the tour, sleep for a few days before I think about what the next one's going to be.

Lance did not like the sound of this. It seemed like a recipe for burnout, what were RCA thinking? "What does your agent say?"

Oh, full steam ahead, grab it while you can, all that. I'm tied in to the AI contract anyway. And I mean, they're right, obviously, I can't let things cool off, I have to be out there, put my music out there. I'll feel better about it when I'm not so tired. Is it always like this near the end of a tour? With the Idol tour everyone was getting sick close to the end.

"Would it help," Lance began tentatively, "would you like—would it help if I come spend a few days with you? I mean, I know about touring, I know what's involved, I can keep out of the way while you're working, and maybe take a few things off your plate."

I can't ask you to do that. You have your own work.

"I can bring my laptop. And you aren't asking, I'm offering. Seriously. I'm sure I could help you relax. It's up to you. If you want me there, I can take a few days, no problem."

I don't think I should ask, but yes. Please come.

"Of course you can ask. I'll be there as soon as I can. I—I actually miss you." The second the words were out of his mouth, Lance froze with horror. "I'llseeyousoon," he gabbled, and cut the connection. That was incredibly stupid, he thought, Adam doesn't want to know that I—hell.

But there was no time for brooding, he had calls to make.

* * *

Showering off the night's sweat, Adam wondered how it was possible to feel so weary and so fizzingly awake. The performance adrenaline was still buzzing in his bloodstream. Thank God for crowds, for their life and energy and the way they shared it with him. He loved performing and he loved his audiences. But he was so tired. He seemed to have been running at top speed for months, ever since the whole Idol thing started, he just wanted to lie down.

Still, Lance would be here tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow. He shouldn't count on that, it might take a while for Lance to rearrange his own schedule, but he couldn't help hoping. Tomorrow. He smiled to himself, turned off the water and wiped himself down before stepping out to dry himself off .

Should he re-read the details for the morning's meeting? Might send him to sleep, but no, more likely keep him awake worrying even after the adrenaline was gone. He picked up his book instead and settled into bed.

The sheets of paper mocked him silently from the table.

Adam did his best to ignore them, but the words in front of him wouldn't settle into sense, and after five minutes he gave up, slammed the book down on the nightstand next to him, and got out of bed. He'd just read it through one more—

There was a knock at the door, the correct knock, the one that meant it was safe to open, not some intrepid fan who'd managed to get hold of his room number. Adam's heart sank. Nothing good would come of a knock at his door at this time of night, unless—he brightened—tomorrow's meeting was canceled and he could sleep late.

He hurried into the bathroom, hauled on the fluffy white hotel bathrobe, padded barefoot across the sitting room and opened the door.

"Oh!" he said, astonished. "Hey!"

Lance's smile lit the room.

"I didn't—I thought, tomorrow, you—how did you get here?"

"Lisa actually is very efficient," Lance said, and looked at him in amusement. "And probably happy to get me out of the office."

"I can't believe you got here so fast."

"United Airlines, man, it's just a four hour flight." Lance looked up at him. "Do I get a kiss hello?"

Adam seized him, pulled him inside and kissed him with great thoroughness.

"You know, I was going to ask if you were pleased to see me, but apparently you are," Lance said, grinning wickedly.

Adam gave his tush a quick smack, then hugged him again. "I missed you, too," he muttered, suddenly convinced it was important to say so.

"Well, now I'm here," said Lance, briskly, but he was smiling too, and ducking his head, a little bit shy and a little bit pink, which meant he was well pleased. Also, incredibly cute. "All ready to provide congenial company, moral support and," he set his duffel down and dropped his voice into sex register, "relaxation."

"You don't want, I mean, food? Something to drink?" However pleased he was to see Lance, it wasn't fair to drag him to the bed and ravish him without letting him, oh, take his shoes off first.

"Nah, I got dinner on the plane."

Adam grimaced.

"No, no, they look after you okay in first class. Mind you, I thought for a while I was going to have to fly coach." He shuddered theatrically.

"I appreciate the sacrifice," Adam said, trying to sound solemn, but he couldn't stop smiling.

"Don't worry, it didn't come to that. So." Lance unwrapped the hastily tied belt from Adam's waist and slid his chilly hands inside the bathrobe. "How much help do you need to get to sleep?"

"Nothing you can't supply," Adam said into Lance's neck, stretched so invitingly before him. "I mean, I don't think we even need to, if you're tired from traveling, if you wanna wait till morning." He really hoped Lance didn't want to wait.

"Adam," said Lance, firmly, "I am not tired. It's not even bed-time on the West coast. I have been thinking about you for the past seven hours. Do not tell me you want to wait until tomorrow."

"I won't do that," Adam promised. "I definitely won't do that. I seem to be really awake now. Not tired at all."

"In that case, I have a lot of work ahead of me, don't I?"

"Mmm. Maybe you should get undressed."

"That sounds like a plan."

"Do you need any help?"

"I don't know. Do I?"

Adam's smile grew. "Mmm, yes, I think you do. I think you do."

*

Adam opened his eyelids just enough that he could navigate to the bathroom, do what he had to do, and find his way back to the bed. It seemed to be empty, but through the not-quite-closed sitting room door he could hear Lance rumbling. "—massive revenue opportunity—potentially huge—squandered on short term profit—" Okay, he'd said he would bring work with him. It occurred to Adam that it was kinda sexy, hearing Lance being all stern and businesslike, but he wasn't really awake enough to process that. He groped for his wristwatch, squinted at it, and realized he could spend another hour in bed. He crawled gratefully between the sheets and dropped back into sleep at once.

When he woke up again, there was coffee.

A moment later, Lance stuck his head around the door. "Ah, good," he said, and brought breakfast through into the bedroom. Adam found himself sitting up in bed, faintly bewildered but not unhappy, with a plate of protein-heavy breakfast on a tray, and fresh orange juice. Lance, dressed but barefoot, settled beside him cradling a cup of coffee, and explained that he'd eaten already. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you. Am I supposed to eat all this?"

"Yep. Carbs later, before the show."

"Okay," said Adam, who had by now realized that he was hungry, and began to eat.

"I, uh. Did something I probably shouldn't have," Lance said, carefully.

"Mmm?"

"You did tell me, last night, I should read the schedule from RCA."

"Yeah, and?"

"I thought you might not remember. You were practically asleep."

"No, no, I remember," Adam said, gulping down a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "So you read the schedule."

"Mmm. And then I called an old—well, not a friend, but I knew he'd take my call, at 19 Entertainment, and told him they were being screwed." He hesitated. "I should have talked to you first, but I was pissed, and you needed to sleep."

"Oh," said Adam. "What did he say?"

"Let's just say, I persuaded him to re-evaluate some revenue projections," Lance said. "I mean, there's no use talking to record company execs about reasonable treatment and decent human behavior, because they are all sharks and were raised in petri dishes, but they understand money. It's just like Hollywood, really. Anyway, 19 have seen the figures, they want you long-term—which, incidentally, don't sign up for that either, but we can talk about that some other time—anyway they definitely don't want RCA screwing with you just because they have you on license right now. He was furious about it. So, um. If the guy puts that schedule in front of you, don't sign it."

"Oh, shit, the meeting! What time is it?"

"Don't worry, you have forty minutes to shower and dress. But, um. Are you okay with that?"

Adam looked at him in astonishment. He'd never realized Lance had a secret super-power. "So what are you—you're saying, 19 still get to over-ride what I do with RCA?"

"They have some clauses in the contract which will cover it, yes."

"And I don't have to stick with that schedule?"

"Apparently, and you don't know this, okay, they have some negotiations scheduled in about a month. If you agree to what RCA want now, it weakens 19's position. I think there's some personal grudge stuff going on in there, too, one of the new RCA suits just came from Jive and there's all kinds of backstory, trust me, you don't want to go there, but anyway. Just go into the meeting and tell them you really don't feel you can commit to the schedule right now, you can talk about artistic freedom or whatever you want, doesn't matter, the important thing is, don't agree to it. Say you need to get the tour finished first."

"Sounds good to me," said Adam, amazed. It hadn't felt right to him, but he'd been willing to go along with the advice from his agent and the record company, they were supposed to know what they were doing. He'd learned an enormous amount about the practical/creative side of the business, how to put a show together, how to put an album together, how to put a tour together, but these executive-class shenanigans were beyond him. "Thanks, babe." He leaned over to plant a kiss on Lance's nose. "Maybe I'm supposed to be angry with you, but I'm just. Wow."

"You're not mad at me?"

"So very not. God, what a relief!"

* * *

Red Tulip
Believe me; declaration of love

Despite Adam's obvious approval, Lance was feeling a shade guilty at having rearranged his life without asking first, and vowed not to interfere again. The rest of the day went well. He kept out of the way during the meeting, sitting on the bed working on a couple of reports, and declined to attend soundcheck on the grounds that Adam certainly didn't need him there and he could get some emails done. They had a merry meal together before the show. Adam was a lot more relaxed already, with a good night's sleep behind him—Lance was happy to take the credit for that—and no punishing schedule to fret about.

He watched the show, of course, from a discreet vantage point backstage, and was blown away afresh by Adam's sheer strutting presence, the way he ruled the audience and flirted and teased them all, the incredible range and power of his voice. The perfect, slutty way he moved his hips. To his regret, he couldn't stay for the encores, but boarded the bus tidily ahead of time so that Adam could make a quick getaway.

"I was hoping you'd be naked," Adam said with a grin as he came on board, visibly alight with the excitement of the performance.

"Thought about it," said Lance, reclining on the bed with a magazine and wearing only T-shirt and boxers. "But I wasn't sure what your bus routine would be."

"Eh, I'm kinda rank. I'm gonna shower."

Adam emerged from the shower wearing the most magnificent robe Lance had ever seen. He blinked and shaded his eyes. Adam stuck out his tongue, sat down on the bed and put a hand on Lance's thigh. Lance had discarded the boxers and T-shirt.

"So, Mr I-can-help-you-relax. What are we going to do tonight?"

"Whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?"

"Anything."

"Lance... "

"Well, I have limits, but you already know what they are." Lance looked at him steadily.

"No pain, no humiliation, no intricate things with string." Adam grinned but did not snicker at that last part. Lance was impressed.

"And I figure," he said, "you don't seem to want to ask for those things anyway, so. Anything you want."

"Even handcuffs?"

Lance nodded.

"Really?" Adam looked at him searchingly. "I wouldn't, I mean..."

"I didn't trust you then," Lance told him, and it earned him a kiss.

"You looked so fucking beautiful," Adam murmured. "I want to do that again, properly. We will. But," he sighed, "I didn't bring the cuffs."

Lance smiled, and leaned over for his duffel. It was mostly unpacked already, but... "I don't have handcuffs," he said. "The bedposts are too big. I have these." He produced four coils of thin, flexible rope and laid them on the bed. "More practical."

Adam breathed an almost reverent sigh as he drew one of the ropes through his hand. "You like being tied up," he said thoughtfully.

"Mmm. Everyone deserves to be the center of attention sometimes," Lance said. "Being tied up means you don't have to do anything. Just be—pleasured. The other guy gets to do all the work. And I like tying my partner up and enjoying his pleasure, seeing how much I can give him. Sauce for the gander, and all. And I thought, either way, we might find these useful. So, Adam. What do you want?"

* * *

Lance seemed to have appointed himself bus chef, for when Adam awoke the next morning he was presented with freshly brewed coffee, and informed that breakfast would not be long.

Adam set the coffee on the bedside locker and circled Lance's wrists with both hands to tug him closer. There was a tiny, conscious smile on Lance's face as he knelt on the bed and bent down for his good morning kiss. He really had been beautiful last night.

"Your turn next time."

Adam narrowed his eyes and raised a brow, trying for intimidating, but apparently not achieving it. Lance just laughed at him and escaped to go scramble some eggs, and a few minutes later Adam, in his gorgeous robe, settled at the little table to eat.

"I could get used to this," he said happily. He didn't mind fixing his own breakfast, but this was nicer. "My very own cook and problem-fixer."

"I'm kinda taking over," Lance admitted. "I always used to do breakfast on our bus, when we had breakfast, anyway. Joey fixed dinner. Tell me how you like to run your day. I don't want to cause you extra stress by getting in the way, I'm here to make things easier on you."

"Could you get my tour manager to stop complaining about how much the costumes cost?" He was mostly joking, but Lance brightened.

"You wanna show me the budget? I like budgets."

"You are a sad, sad person." Adam thought for a moment. "I don't think we've overspent. Costumes matter, and I wanted them spectacular. And we agreed this stuff beforehand, but Maurice won't let up with the complaints."

"I'll take a look, and I'll talk to Maurice."

"Honestly, you don't have to do that. I know you have your own work to do."

"It's cool. I'm nosy, I like to know everything."

"Oh, and I almost forgot, I have something for you." Where had he—there it was on the couch. His favorite of the three tour designs, in Lance's size. Lance exclaimed in delight and promptly pulled off the T-shirt he was wearing so that he could don the new one. "You don't get to wear it tonight, it's a rest night."

"Well, damn," said Lance. "What are we going to do with ourselves?"

* * *

A couple of days later Lance announced that he thought Maurice was happy with things now, which proved to be true.

It was a nice feeling, that someone was there just for him, someone with no financial stake and no reputation to uphold, just someone looking out for him. He mentioned this to Kris that afternoon when Kris called just after soundcheck.

There you go, business people can be cool, too.

"I guess they can. Lance is pretty cool."

See, Uncle Kris always knows best. Uncle Kris happens to be a business major, so...

Adam laughed. "I am taking your advice," he promised. "I'm just gonna see what happens."

* * *

Saturday morning, en route to Boston, MA, and Adam woke with a delicious langour in his limbs, a feeling of perfect well-being, and a sense-memory of soft rope around his wrists. Beside him, Lance was still serenely asleep. Adam stared down at the messy faux-blond head next to him. Lance had been so, so intent, last night, so focused. Adam found it easier to understand, now, why Lance had panicked and run when they'd tried the handcuff thing before. Lance hadn't trusted him enough, then, and he'd probably been right. It was a lot to handle, it was almost terrifying being the recipient of all that concentrated attention, he hadn't realized how hard it would be to give himself over completely to the receiving of pleasure and just accept it all.

Or how incredibly good it would feel when he did. Almost an out-of-body experience. He wouldn't tell Lance that, because Lance wouldn't get it and would just mock. Strange, that someone so pragmatic could take him so high.

There were adorable little waking-up grunts, and Lance's eyes opened.

"Hey," Adam murmured. "Sleep well?"

"Mmmm. Not 'wake yet." Fuck, but his early-morning voice was ridiculously sexy.

"And I thought you were a morning person."

"I worked hard last night. There's a lot of you to cover." Lance seemed to find Adam's height very pleasing. It was sweet. They'd have a proper-sized bed tonight, he had a stopover. Tomorrow Lance would go to the airport and Adam would get back on the bus and head for Philadelphia. He thought about trying to persuade Lance to stay longer, but it wasn't fair, Lance had his own work to do, and Adam didn't truly need him there any more. It was going to be hard to let him go, it had been a great almost-week, not just the spectacular sex but the other things Lance had done, little things like making sure he ate properly, occasional neck rubs, the way the problems that had been draining Adam's energy so badly had smoothed themselves out of the way. But now Adam was refreshed and ready for the rest of the tour, he was going to make the final two weeks the best ever. He'd even found time to write up a few ideas for songs.

"Next time I go on tour," Adam said, petting Lance's hair, "I'm putting you on retainer."

Lance raised himself on one elbow and looked down at Adam. "Don't think you can afford my fee," he said. How had Adam ever thought those eyes were hard to read? He could see everything in them now.

"I was hoping you might do it for..." he hesitated over the word, suddenly terrified, and made a last-minute substitution, "free."

Lance looked at him very carefully, and Adam felt a thrill of panic. He wasn't ready, he couldn't be sure. He was terrible at relationships. "Well, you know," Lance said, "I don't do anything for free. But I will," and he grinned, "go anywhere for VIP tickets and a classy T-shirt. Ask anybody."

Adam grinned back, enormously relieved. "I think I can promise you VIP tickets and a classy T-shirt."

"In that case," said Lance, "sign me up." He settled back down against Adam's side, and Adam tightened his arm around him.

They snuggled for a while longer, and Adam could just see the corner of Lance's mouth turned up in a tiny little smile. He loved that little smile. Eventually, he had to kiss it, and the snuggling seamlessly turned into making out and then hot, sticky, joyful mutual handjobs.

*

At breakfast, Adam had what had to be a long overdue brainwave. "Lance. Tonight. Come on stage with me."

"That sounds like an awfully adult show," Lance said, blandly, not looking up from his newspaper.

"Bad Lance! No biscuit!" said Adam, startled into laughter. "Although, give the audience what they want, right?" Lance eyed him disapprovingly over the top of his glasses. Adam grinned. "We should sing together. Do Flower, before you leave."

"I, wow," said Lance, faced with Adam's best persuasive face. "I haven't sung in front of people since... " He thought about it for a few minutes. Adam concentrated on his breakfast and waited for Lance's decision. "Oh hell, why not, let's go for it. Promise me we'll get a chance to rehearse. And do you have the words somewhere? I need to study up."

"You forgot the words?" Adam said, incredulous. He still knew the words for every song he'd ever sung. "I'll teach you."

"Best not," Lance said. "I think we might get distracted. I'll Google them."

They rehearsed before the fans were let in for soundcheck. Lance did okay on the words but he seemed to be holding back. Possibly he was nervous. "Can't you get a bit more, you know, hard-assed with it? Remember how you sang it in JC's studio. I want us all up in each other's faces for this song."

"More likely I'll be about level with your nipples," Lance said, "if you're wearing those ridiculous boots."

"Do not diss the boots," Adam replied automatically, but Lance had a point. So, after soundcheck, he had a word with his stage manager and arranged some adjustments for the encores. The raised step around the rear could be re-set forward most of the way to the front of the stage, like a catwalk. That should even things up a bit. And it'd keep him alert, he had a feeling he was getting a bit samey with the way he used the stage.

*

From the moment Adam strode onto the stage that night and opened his mouth to sing the first number, Lance knew it was going to be one of the special performances that show up like magic once in a while. He was on fire, the crowd was on fire, they loved each other, everything worked. Watching from his privilege vantage point, Lance got so caught up he forgot to be nervous and just enjoyed the spectacle of Adam being utterly and completely fabulous and let himself be mesmerized as always by Adam's hips. He was going to have to sneak back at the end of the tour and see the final show from out there, somewhere, if he could possibly swing it, somewhere he could be a part of the frenzied crowd and really feel the atmosphere.

*

By the end of his second encore Adam was on an incredible high, and the crowd went into a frenzy when he asked if they wanted just one more number.

So he and Lance did Flower just the way he'd imagined it, facing off on opposite sides of the stage and gradually meeting in the middle, fierce and hard and angry, and he had a handful of petals which he crushed and let fall, and Lance had to step onto the catwalk so they ended up nose to nose, I want to fuck you like a dog I'll take you home and make you like it, and the roof practically came off the building. He stood there, glaring into Lance's eyes, Lance's wide black pupils, Lance was just as turned on as he was, and Adam had a sudden impulse to kiss him hard, right there on the stage. He thought about what the audience would do—and what Lance would do. Okay, so, not. No public stuff. But he didn't know how he was going to make it back to the hotel room.

He grabbed Lance's hand instead and they bowed together under the tumult of applause, and ran offstage. Lance pushed him back on for one last bow, and when Adam got back to his dressing room Lance had banished everyone else, because he was smart that way, and he got his clever, clever hands straight to the fastening of Adam's pants and said, "Do you want me to blow you or do you want to fuck me?" and Adam said, "I have to choose?" so they did both.

* * *

Sunday morning, and his ride to the airport would be here soon. Lance rolled his T-shirts and boxers into neat sausages and re-packed his duffel. As he coiled the ropes, he glanced up to Adam, sitting cross-legged on the bed watching him, and grinned. "No, I am not leaving these here. You'll have to make other arrangements." He slid the coils neatly into the slim front pocket of his bag. Was there anything he'd forgotten?

A moment later Adam had slid off the bed and pulled him upright into a tight hug. "I don't want you sleeping with anybody else."

Lance blinked. "Okay," he said, surprised. Pleased.

"I'm serious. I don't want—you'll just have to survive on phone sex and toys until I get back to LA, you hear me?"

"Okay," Lance said again, trying not to beam. Adam was being possessive. It made him feel warm and sappy and he should probably try to keep some kind of cool, here. Things were going so very well, he didn't want to screw it up by going too far, too fast. Adam wasn't ready.

Adam looked at him, uncertainty written all over his face.

"I can do that," Lance assured him.

"And I, you know. Same deal for me, I won't."

He looked as though he honestly believed Lance might not agree. Or might not care. Maybe keeping cool wasn't important after all. Maybe waiting for the right time didn't even matter. Maybe it was more important to make him understand. "Adam," Lance said, picking his words carefully, "I don't want anybody else. I'm not going to say anything you don't want to hear, but you know I don't need the VIP tickets and the free T-shirt, right? Wherever you want me, I'm there. So," he hugged tight and spoke fiercely into Adam's ear, "you just keep on being awesome for the rest of your tour and you come find me the second you get back to LA, okay?"

There was a knock at the door.

"My car's here, baby. Gotta go." He pressed a quick kiss on Adam's lips and stepped back. Grabbed his duffel. Headed out.

He was belted in and ready to go when Adam hurtled down the steps and skidded to a halt next to the car. Lance pressed the button to open the window, and called to the driver to wait just one second.

"Lance—I just. I wanted to say. I love you too."

He was out of the car in what felt like no time at all and so tight in Adam's arms he couldn't breathe for a moment. "I really have to go," he muttered, and they unwound, and he got back in the car, and this time it really did leave.

At the airport, he got out his cellphone and ordered another delivery for Adam. This time, he thought, he'd send roses.

*end*

Outtakes, because I couldn't stop writing it.

Yellow tulips Hopeless Love
Calla Lilies Magnificent beauty
Daffodil Respect; regard; unrequited love; deceit
Red Roses Love, I love you

Flower meanings derived from The Language of Flowers
http://www.thegardener.btinternet.co.uk/flowerlanguage.html

The YouTube links:

I Thought She Knew http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncKE1mBpr9s
Oh Holy Night http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MXzJqRXLI08
Bee Gees Medley http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LGbNQ1-Ty_A
Atlantis Concert (Tim McGraw medley) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A3qMyVnR6RQ

Snake picture: http://community.livejournal.com/popmacros/27491.html
Lance with Alan Cumming: http://pics.livejournal.com/pensnest/pic/0005z7g9 (okay, I cheated with this one, I couldn't find it except by looking where I knew it was)

Page 1 of 2 << [1] [2] >>

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

From:

nopseud

AWWWWWWWWWWWW. I *love* the new ending. Very nice. :-)

From:

penned in another moment of madness

Bouquet - Part Five

Links

Page Summary

Active Entries

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags