A/N: So, the other night, PZ and I were talking on MSN. Our discussions always get a bit random, but this particular discussion led to the most EPIC idea ever on how to annoy hardcore gamers. So, here it is, in a slashy little ficlet-type peek into Pickles's old life! Read, review, and enjoy.

~Larien~

Pickles sat in the kitchen of the apartment he shared with Tony, Sammy, and Bullets. He wore nothing more than a tacky apron and a smug look. The smell of cinnamon buns rising in the oven caused his mouth to water almost to the point of drooling. He couldn't wait for his treats to finish baking. After the horrible teasing he'd endured the previous night, those douche bags had it coming.

Well, no, not Tony. Pickles's little plot of revenge was not aimed at his bassist and lover. Instead, it would be more of a treat for Tony. Sammy and Bullets, though, deserved what was coming…Of course, the young redhead hadn't completely thought through his plan, so he didn't know what kind of reaction to expect from the drummer and guitarist. He sure hoped that whatever reaction he got was worth baring his buns for. Pickles already felt guilty enough for allowing men other than Tony to get a good look at his goodies. If it turned out to be all for naught, Pickles was going to feel far more horrible than he currently felt, if it were possible.

The timer finally dinged and the small redhead hopped down from his perch on the counter to take the cinnamon buns out of the oven. He smiled down at the pastries as he inhaled their warm aroma. Pickles was tempted to eat a couple, but raucous laughter from the adjoining living room brought him back to the mission at hand.

Pickles took up the tray and strolled into the living room. Sammy and Bullets were sitting on the couch, each with a controller in hand, playing Super Mario Brothers on the Nintendo. They were so intently focused on the game that they didn't notice their lead singer enter the room. Tony sat in the recliner, sipping from his bottle of beer with a bendy straw. The redhead smirked at his dark-haired lover, who in turn winked and silently blew a kiss.

The vocalist continued on to stand between his band mates and the television. A shit-eating grin was plastered on his face. The two men on the couch glared up at him.

"Hey, bro, you're blocking the TV!" Sammy called, leaning over to look around Pickles. "If I lose this 'cause of you, I'm not helping you fix your hair ever again. Dammit, Mario, JUMP!"

"Wait, dude," Bullets drawled, realization dawning on him, "are you…NAKED? What the Hell?"

Pickles dropped the tray onto the coffee table. "I thaught I'd fergive you guys fer makin' fun a' me an' callin' me a fag. Y'know, be th' bigger dood. So I braught ya cinnamon buns!"

Sammy said nothing more than a hasty, "Thanks," as he shoved a cinnamon bun in his mouth.

Bullets ignored the treats. "How can we think you're not a queer if we catch you playing tonsil hockey with Tony? Geez, go put some clothes on!"

Tony, noticing that last night was about to repeat itself in a more violent manner, said, "Hey, Red, leave 'em alone. Bring your buns over here. And bring a couple of those pastries, too."

As Pickles did as he was told, Bullets groaned jokingly, "Aw, you guys are gonna do your gay business in front of us now?"

"No way, bro!" Tony replied, grinning. "We're not gonna give you douche bags a free live porno flick!" He stood and directed Pickles towards their shared bedroom. As he followed his lover down the hallway, he leaned down and whispered, "You've got freckles on your ass."

"So?" Pickles asked, smiling coyly and unknotting the apron strings.

"So, does that make both sets of buns cinnamon?" Tony asked as he shut and locked their bedroom door.

Pickles looked up at him and tossed the apron across the room. "I dunno. Wanna taste?"