LadyOfThieves – I'd never have guessed you were drunk whilst writing this review (sarcasm…). Glad you had a good time anyway. I'm pretty sure getting legless is not all that conducive to writing, but I think we'll have to experiment and find out ;) These probably will be sad, but a lot of the stuff I write is. That or fluffy. One of the two :) And yes, let's watch all the Matrixes! I really need to, actually. Just to see a certain actor again. I think I'm detoxing from Keanu Reeves, actually. I haven't seen one of his films in ages. Well, except for Constantine and Thumbsucker in half term. You're gobsmacked now, aren't you? Don't worry, I'm sure this is just a phase I'm going through! By the way, what are you doing on the 17th March? Because I'm going to see V for Vendetta, and I wanted to know if you wanted to come. Give me a phone call, yeah? P.S A chocolate fountain? God, I hate you right now…joking, joking! But if you could give me a chocolate fountain I would love you forever…anyway, thanks for reviewing!

Frisky Wallabee – Aw, thank you! I'm still blushing…I'm sure you're psychic. I've planned out some prompts for this story, up till about chapter eight or something, and either six or seven is 'chocolate'. That is really freaky. Have you ever suspected you were clairvoyant before? If I can do anything to help with the writer's block (what a bitch) just let me know. Us MOPI writers have to stick together! Thanks for reviewing!

Sorry, but this is a short one. And I made you all wait for an update, but I had to do some editing to this, otherwise I would have updated on Saturday. But hey, three fics and three updates in a day can't be too bad, right?

Saphir Neyraud, thank you for putting this story on your favourites list. I'd really love to hear from you! I don't bite (much…). Okay, I totally ripped that joke off from Astral Light. But whatever, it'd be really nice to talk to you!

Anyway, I hope you all really enjoy this, and please review!

Chapter II: Kiss

Lips that taste of tears, they say, are the best for kissing.

– Dorothy Parker

He wished that just once, someone would kiss him.

He couldn't remember ever getting a kiss from his mom. He had just a few images of her in his head. Through his eyes, she was beautiful. Immaculate. Flawless. But they were his baby's eyes, and they were untainted. Now, he wondered whether the scant images of his mom were accurate. And though he loved her, she never even touched him. He was a relic of what had happened. An incestuous child. Fucked up inside as well as out. Fucked up. Fucked over. Fucked.

And of course, no-one would kiss him out here. He could sell his body, but no-one would kiss his lips. That would make it too intimate. You couldn't fuck someone like the whore they were and then kiss them. It didn't work like that. People paid for his body, they didn't want his soul. An ass without a face.

No-one had ever shown him any sort of love. He had friends, here, on the streets, but he couldn't talk to them about anything. Not anything that truly mattered. They couldn't know everything about him. There were some things that were too dark, too intimate, to share. If he told them that, they'd never look at him again. There were some things that were too fucked up to explain. He could just about count on them for their fair-weather friendship, and companionship on the lonely streets. But no-one loved him. If he wasn't there, some other fucker would be, selling his ass and guarding his soul, like him.

Mike looked at Scott, several metres away, talking to Denise. Everyone looked spellbound when they talked to Scott, and she was no exception. No matter what he said, no matter what tone he said them in, no matter if he was directly contradicting himself, he always held them spellbound, listening to the gold that fell from his lips.

He wanted to kiss him so much. So fucking much it hurt. He wanted to feel Scott's soft lips against his own, feel his skin against his. If he had the guts, he would get up, walk over there and kiss Scott. Anything to get rid of this burning feeling inside of him, in equal parts longing and hesitation.

But he knew he didn't have the guts. Because he was scared of rejection. Because he was scared of, for once, being honest with himself and possibly, just possibly, getting something he'd always wanted. Good things didn't happen to him. They never fucking did. Why? Because he was Mike Waters. Good things didn't happen to Mike fucking Waters. They just didn't. The universe didn't like him. No-one did.

He didn't have the fucking right to kiss anyone.

He didn't have the fucking right to expect a kiss from anyone. Least of all Scott.

Scott was perfect. Scott was like a god. And he was trash. He was a useless, waste of space fuck up. He couldn't expect anything from Scott.

How could Scott ever love someone like him? Someone so screwed over, so impure?

His hand curled up into a fist on his thigh, his fingernails digging into his skin to silence the words that wanted to come out of his mouth.

I love you…

Amazingly fluffy, I know, but I seem to be working to a theme here (every chapter of every fic I'm working on today seems to end up being scarily fluffy). And, it's MikeScott fluff. Who can resist?

Please review!