Troy knew he was in trouble.

It wasn't just the detention, or the paint now drying on a rather uncomfortable part of his body, or even the wrath of Coach Bolton (a.k.a. Dad) coming down upon him and Chad for daring to receive detention during his practice. It was, in fact, his reaction when his father asked incredulously of Ms. Darbus "What the heck are those two doing in a tree?" and his mind supplied 'K-I-S-S-I-N-G,' as per the children's schoolyard rhyme.

'Oh shit,' replied the half of his mind that managed to remain sane after the first half comprehended what exactly it had thought and promptly melted into a lumpy gray goo somewhat resembling an ice cream smoothie, though decidedly less delicious, in horror of what he had just realized.

He was gay.

Of course, in retrospect, it did explain everything he had ever wondered about. Such as his closeted love for drama, singing, and Zeke's cookies, which were utterly heavenly, with just a slight bit of cinnamon and perhaps an aroma of cloves, though that was really only in the Christmas spice cookies and – (at this point, when Troy's mouth started watering, the unmelted part of his brain politely shoved him back onto his train of thought) It explained why he liked to spend a lot of time in the shower with the guys, why girls had cooties and how come he loved what Gabriella did with her wardrobe (though that chunky belt was a bit much).

'Crap. Crapcrapcrapcrap.' This would not go over well with anyone, least of all Troy's ultra-testosterone-high father and, of course, the object of his affections, Chad Danforth.

So, like any other brand-new 'holy-crap-I'm-gay' popular freshman that enjoys that popularity, Troy didn't say a word. Though he did start showering separately from the other guys after practice.

Troy dated Gabriella. He told himself that he was relieved when Chad started dating Gabriella's friend Taylor. No, really, he would finally stop mooning over his vaguely afro/curly haired friend. Troy managed to convince himself that there was another reason why he hid himself in his dressing room on opening night when he saw Taylor and Chad kissing backstage.

Troy had to constantly remind himself that boys didn't cry.

He managed to make it through high school without a) breaking down or b) popping a potentially embarrassing and hard to explain boner in front of Chad. It was the summer before college, blistering hot with no relief in sight. Instant microwaveable soup could cook on the sidewalk next to frying eggs without any need for a stove or skillet. Anyone sane stayed indoors, cranking up the air conditioner to artic temperatures.

Being male (gay or no), Troy was, predictably, outside Chad's house, shooting baskets with his former teammates, having one last game with everyone before they all went off to college. They were all steadily tiring though, and one-by-one, everyone left, waving good-byes to people they were most likely never going to see again. And finally, there were just two left – Troy and Chad.

"I am so beat, man!" Chad gave up against Troy's onslaught of his defense. "C'mon, let's get inside before my mom starts yellin' about heat stroke or something."

Troy grinned and threw the ball at Chad. "Is that your way of saying that I win?"

"Whatever," Chad waved his hand noncommittally. "I'm hungry, okay?"

"You totally just gave up." Troy followed Chad in the front door, which bore a note from Chad's mother explaining that she was visiting her sister so don't expect her home before ten, Dad was working late tonight and dinner's in the fridge but don't eat too much or else you'll get sick. Chad crumpled up the paper in his hand and threw it to the trashcan – swish, three points.

"You want some ice cream?" Chad opened the freezer and started rifling through its contents. "Lesse, there's some pink yogurt shit, double chocolate brownie, peach cobbler, Vermonty Python, and . . . this might be melted rainbow sherbet that someone refroze."

Troy shrugged. "Whatever's fine." Chad tossed him a carton of the chocolate stuff and a spoon, not even bothering with a bowl.

"And . . . for me . . ." Chad rummaged through the frozen pizzas and ice cube trays. "Sweet! Chocolate-covered bananas!"

There was a slight choking sound as a large chunk of brownie tried (but ultimately failed) to make its way down Troy's windpipe. His mind attempted to remain solid and not goo while at the same time repressing the downward blood flow as Chad pulled out a six-pack of the bananas.

Forget any training sessions with Coach, or drama practice with Sharpay hanging off his arm, watching Chad eat the bananas was far worse torture. The chocolate was cold enough that water droplets condensed on its surface and rolled downwards. Chad apparently liked to lick his way through the chocolate tip first, then once all the covering was gone, suck on the end of the banana until it warmed and melted in his mouth. Then he would move lower on the skewer and begin all over again.

Troy was feeling very uncomfortable about five minutes in, trying to focus on eating his own ice cream, but after fifteen minutes, when Chad had finally finished his first banana and now was starting on a second, he was desperately shifting in the hopes that his little friend wouldn't be seen and have to say hello. Then Chad suddenly stopped. Troy was hoping it was because he was full, but instead, Chad walked towards the refrigerator and gotten out a canister of whipped cream, which he sprayed all over the banana and proceeded to slowly lick off, dragging his finger down the chocolate surface to make sure and get every molecule of the creamy substance.

Troy couldn't take it anymore. He slammed down the chocolate ice cream onto the kitchen table, stalked over to a surprised Chad and forced his mouth onto the other's, tasting the cold banana, cheap milk chocolate and fake cream as his tongue flicked past Chad's lips.

"Took you long enough," Chad grinned at him after Troy decided that oxygen was, in fact, necessary to human survival. "Man, you're dense."

"Shut the hell up," Troy dove back in.

It was a good thing that Chad's parents didn't arrive home until after the boys were finished eating the ice cream, chocolate-covered bananas and whipped cream in a very unconventional manner. Though you really couldn't say that all the food was used for eating.

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A/N: Written for Suzaka, as a gift for buying me that volume of W Juliet about . . . 6 months ago . . . better late than never?

. . . Don't ever ask me to write High School Musical again. Never again. I will refuse.

ANNOUNCEMENT:

Umm, apparently this fic won the "Slash Award for Best Comedic Story" in kellykalls's forum. This was a bit of a surprise. I'm not quite sure whether to be thrilled or annoyed. I think I'll settle for confused. In any case, I'm sure that if you visit her forum you'll find other fics that you'll enjoy.