Abraham dropped his duffel bag on one of the two beds. "We're sharing, right, Baker?" Baker murmured his agreement and made for the bed. Parker shouldered his way into the room and looked at the two beds, lifting a corner of his mouth in a sneer.
"Where the hell's number four?" was all that he said, dropping his bag in the middle of the floor and sitting down on the second bed. "If it's the stupid kid with the scar on his face, I'm sharing with you, Abe, fuck your boyfriend."
Before Abraham could reply with some scathing comment about how badly Parker's last relationships had ended, and maybe this meant that he was secretly queer, Baker spoke. He was lightly blushing. "It's not McVries," he said. "He's in with Garraty, Stebbins, and Davidson."
Parker snorted. "Glad we're not in the room next to 'em," he said. "The walls are thin."
Abraham grinned and, just then, the fourth person in their room entered. When Baker saw him, he immediately moved his stuff from Abraham's bed to Parker's. Abraham glanced at the door, at the small, darkish figure that had obviously seen who he was rooming with, because he'd just turned around to leave.
"Barkobitch," Parker hissed. "Yep, Abe, I'm sleeping with you."
Gary Barkovitch, much unlike his usual self, just rolled his eyes and was silent. Probably scared, Abraham though. Not a guy in here that likes him… well, Baker doesn't actively hate him, but I know he sure as hell doesn't like him.
Wordlessly, Barkovitch flopped down on his and Baker's bed, grabbed the remote, and turned on the TV. Abraham glanced at Baker, who shrugged. Well, he'd have to be sharing with Parker instead of Baker, but Parker wasn't so bad, he was Abe's 'best friend', if you would. Better than Barkovitch.
…
After learning about stuff Abraham didn't care enough about to listen to, him and Parker decided to run across the road to the mall for some pizza.
"No, it's this way," Parker argued, pulling Abraham toward the 'feminine clothing and Arby's' end of the mall.
"No, dumbass, I want pizza. Arby's sucks," Abraham said. They eventually ended up looking at a map of the mall and realizing that they were both wrong.
And, of course, by the time they got to the mini Pizza Hut in Target, they realized that Parker didn't have any money. Abraham sighed and paid for two pops and two of those cute little personal pizzas, grabbing a packet of fruitsnacks as an afterthought.
"You're buying me Orange Julius tomorrow," Abraham said, his mouth full of pepperoni. Parker considered and nodded, reaching over Abe to steal one of his fruitsnacks. Abraham rolled his eyes and let it slide… and then Parker, who had finished all of his food in about two minutes, grabbed the rest of Abraham's pizza out of his hand and ate it in one bite.
"You're sleeping on the floor, I swear," Abraham muttered, shoving the rest of his fruit snacks in his coat pocket and grabbing his Coke. They could leave the garbage. Why the hell not?
…
By the time they got back to the hotel room, Baker was sleeping and Barkovitch was playing Temple Run on his iPhone. It was eleven-thirty. Parker stripped to his underwear immediately and sprawled out across the bed. Abraham left his T-shirt on to sleep in – him and Parker were close, but not that close – and shoved Parker over.
"What." was all Parker said, and Abraham managed to wiggle his way under the covers, though Parker's legs were in the weirdest and most inconvenient position ever. "Hey, hey, you don't get all-"
"I'm taller," Abraham said. Parker sat up, angry and ready to argue. "If you want to blame someone, blame Barkovitch for being our fourth instead of… say… Larson."
Barkovitch gave him the finger, not once looking up from his game. This obviously angered Parker, who got off of the bed – Thank God, Abraham thought as he began to get feeling in his left leg again – and snatched the phone out of Barkovitch's hands.
"What the hell are you doing, Blondie?" Barkovitch said, narrowing his eyes. Parker chucked the phone across the room and Barkovitch winced as it landed facedown under the heater.
"Go the fuck to sleep," Parker said angrily, flicking off the lamp and crawling into bed next to Abraham. Parker was warm, and Abraham was drawn to him almost subconsciously. Parker's voice came next, but only in a hiss instead of the normal shout. "Shit, Abe, you're freezing."
"No, you're hot," Abraham said. Parker laughed a little.
"Damn straight," he said, and Abe hit him. Parker kept laughing.
"Shut up," Abraham said, but he'd begun to grin a little, too. Parker pushed him, and he would've fallen off of the bed, had it not been for how tangled up the blankets were. He grabbed for Parker, managing to snag his arm. This whole thing would be much easier if Parker was wearing a shirt. "Damn it, wear a shirt."
Parker just laughed again. Abraham managed to use Parker's arm to claw his way back up onto the bed. Once he was up, he just laid there, breathing hard. Parker nudged his shoulder.
"Out of shape?"
"Shut up."
"You better get in shape before basketball season. Sprints'll kill you," Parker warned. Abraham snorted.
"I'll be fine," he said. "We can't all be naturally athletic. I'm too ginger to be strong."
"What kind of excuse is that?"
"A fantastic one," Abraham replied promptly, adjusting his position to be a bit closer to Parker – he really was freezing, and Parker really was warm. Parker didn't seem to mind, either, moving to put an arm around Abraham's shoulders.
This was strictly platonic. Strictly platonic… cuddling. Abraham really hated to use that word, but there really wasn't any other word for it.
"Abe," Parker muttered, half-asleep. "Abe, either get off of my arm or get close to me. I can't feel my fingers."
Abraham muttered an apology and rolled closer to Parker, resting his head on Parker's chest. Parker wrapped his arm around Abraham, and now, to be honest, Abraham didn't give a fuck about how close they were, Parker was warm.
…
It was sometime later in the night – or, to be more precise, early morning – that Abraham was woken up by Parker's mutterings. He must have been having a bad dream, because he was twisting and turning and flopping and saying 'no, no, don't hit her, fucking bastard, leave her alone…'
Abraham grabbed Parker and held him still, pushing him into the mattress by his shoulders. Parker's legs kicked, and Abraham saw no other choice but to lock his legs around Parker's, rolling himself on top of the blond. Parker still twisted, and Abraham had to really focus to hold him down.
After a few more moments of trying to keep Parker from crushing him, Abe just slapped him across the face.
Parker's eyes flickered open; confused and vacant. They eventually focused on Abraham, who was breathing hard, pinning Parker to the mattress.
"Abe?" he asked. Abraham nodded, expecting Parker to make some sort of comment, shove him off, and go back to sleep, but instead he sighed in relief and grabbed Abraham, hugging him to his chest. "Thank the fucking lord."
"Uh, Parker?" Abraham asked, his voice muffled. "You okay?"
"Fine," Parker said. He was breathing hard, Abraham could both feel and hear it. "F-"
The lamp between the two beds flicked on and illuminated an angry, sleep-deprived Barkovitch. "Could you just go to sleep?" he asked. His shout woke Baker, who sat up. "You tell me to, then keep me up all night, because you're practically fucking each other!"
Parker let go of Abraham and he rolled off of his friend, getting a good distance away from him. "Collie had a nightmare," Abraham muttered. Barkovitch looked skeptical.
And then Baker was up. "Let's just push the beds together," he said. He wasn't really making much sense, and his speech was slurred, like he was still half-asleep, but he sounded so sure that Abraham shrugged and got out of bed to push it toward Baker's.
After they got everything situated, Abraham flopped down in the middle of the two, Collie Parker on one side, Art Baker on the other.
Alright. This is the first chapter of two.
The second one will be less Parkeraham and more Bakeraham Parkovitch orgy.
Review?