by Kenovay
"Hey!" Chris' head appeared around the bathroom door. "Sid Vicious was just a frustrated boybander, you know." Chris' dreads were loose, snaking wildly in every direction, and his own eyes were already kohled. He was buried inside a black leather greatcoat, but every time he moved it opened to reveal a ripped, safety-pinned, bright green T-shirt and the coat's deep red lining.
"You're just a frustrated boybander, Dwarf." Joey painted another line. "And are you absolutely certain your balls have dropped?"
Chris advanced into the bathroom, leering and grabbing his crotch. "You wanna check, baby?" Joey choked on a giggle and streaked a line of kohl up towards his hairline.
"Look what you made me do, you little twat." He picked up the crumpled flannel beside the basin and wrinkled his nose at it. "And I'm not sure this is clean enough to have anywhere near my eyes."
"Whose fault is that? You were supposed to do the bloody laundry run last week."
"True." Joey turned the tap and waited for a feeble bit of water to force its way through the many obstructions. He wetted the flannel desultorily and wiped delicately at his face, leaving a smear of black on the flannel. After inspecting his face in the mirror, he let the flannel drop to the floor and picked up the brush again.
Chris leaned against the cracked, grimy white doorframe and watched Joey, hands fidgeting with one of the safety pins stuck through his ears. Unlike Chris, who couldn't stand still under any circumstances, Joey seemed to be always static, whatever he was doing. Now, only his arm was moving, delicately tracing the curve of his eye, and the rest of his tall body was rock-still. "Who're we meeting tonight?" Chris asked. He didn't like to be silent for more than two minutes.
Joey shrugged. "Curly? Probably. I think Kaos will be there, and Pink, and Lance. X, as well. Probably Spasm. Maybe some others. I don't think Papercut can come, though. Or Howie." He fell silent.
Chris grinned. "And Bone."
"And Bone," Joey agreed, concentrating very, very hard on his other eye. Only a little more to go.
"I wondered why you were being so careful with the bloody eyeliner."
"I didn't want to look like a pratt, did I?"
"Not in front of Bone, no."
"Shut it, Dwarf. He's going out with Spasm."
Chris clicked his tongue. "Spasm doesn't go out with anyone, you moron. They're just friends."
"I'd heard that rumour." Joey dropped the brush unconcernedly in the sink and turned to face Chris, eyes outlined heavy and dark. "That Spasm's asexual."
Chris made a non-committal noise. "Wasn't too asexual last week in the men's." He grinned. Joey frowned at him. "A-relationship-al."
"Oh. Why's he always hanging off Bone, then?"
"He's� he just likes touching. Him and Bone are really close, yeah?"
"I noticed." Joey brushed a non-existent piece of fluff away from his trousers.
"I know you noticed. " Chris was grinning again. He found everything amusing. "Doesn't mean you're not in with a chance. More than a chance." Joey frowned repressively at him.
"You're talking rubbish, Chris."
"You haven't seen him watching you?"
"Chris, how the hell are you able to tell who or what Bone's looking at? He never takes off those bloody dark glasses, for Christ's sake."
"X-ray eyes." At Joey's glare he relented. "Of course he takes them off sometimes. Has to clean them, at the very least."
"Yeah? What colour are his eyes?"
"Like you'd know whether I was right or wrong. You concentrate way too much on not watching him, Liljo."
Joey frowned. "Way to skip the question. Eyes?"
"Brown, you overgrown twit. Really soft brown. Although that doesn't prove a thing, because his roots are brown, so even you could have guessed that." Chris picked up Joey's greatcoat and pushed it towards him. "Here. Come on, or they'll all wander off without us."
The air was warm, and Joey let his greatcoat hang open, grinning at the way people gave him and Chris a wide berth. Chris found it less amusing. "Jerks."
"Chris, look at us. I've got bright red hair, ten piercings in one ear, twelve in the other, an eyebrow ring and a nose stud, and you have completely crazy dreads and beads and thingies, safety pins through your ears and a skull stud in your tongue. Plus, your T-shirt looks like it's about to fall apart and your trousers have been graffitied on way too many times."
"You dissing my fashion sense?" Chris grinned, his sense of humour overriding his annoyance. "You sure it's possible to actually get out of those pants?" Joey looked down at himself.
"It'll be an experiment," he admitted.
"And you're forgetting those nice nipple rings. One of which is visible."
"True. But then, I didn't list all your piercings either."
Chris flipped him a finger. "Leave Little Chris out of this."
"You know? I'm still convinced that that particular drunken decision explains why you sing so high."
