Sugar

Kyle beamed at his boyfriend as he let himself into the truck's passenger seat. "Hey, Ken. Thanks so much."

Kenny shrugged. "No problem at all, babe." Driving to Denver to see some new store that Kyle was dying to see was no problem at all. "You're kinda pale, there."

Kyle's smile dropped. "Where're your gloves, dude?" He'd completely dodged the statement. "It's pretty cold out today."

Kenny was hoping the Jew wouldn't notice. "I… left them at home." But he hadn't, really. They'd been torn beyond repair from his last death, which had been caused by an angry elk.

"Oh. You want me to get you a pair? I could just run back in."

Kenny shook his head. "I'd rather you warm me up instead, hot stuff."

Kyle blushed, but smirked. "I bet you tore the heater of this thing on purpose." But Kyle was just being cute. He knew there was no heater because Kenny's family was poor.

Kenny chuckled, leaning towards him. "Maybe." And Kenny was just playing along.

Kyle was warm. No, wait—Kyle was burning. Maybe it was the white hot passion that the blonde felt for the tiny redhead. Kenny felt a surge of heat burst right through his face, then throughout his body as soon as their lips touched. Then, their tongues met and Kenny was right about ready to roll over in the snow-but not really, because he didn't actually want to stop kissing Kyle. He had his hand—no longer freezing—in the smaller boy's fiery locks, pulling him closer. Kenny was sucking on his tongue so hard that Kyle was squealing under his breath. Then Kenny noticed something.

"You taste like chocolate," he mumbled into the kiss before pulling away, frowning. But he didn't say it like, "you taste like chocolate, oh my god, I want to eat you and sex you up right here and now."

Kyle licked his lips, keeping his face close to Kenny's, in case the statement was just a statement and the make-out session would resume shortly. "Hm? Yeah, I do."

"When were you eating chocolate?"

"It was part of my breakfast—"

"Where's your glucometer?"

Kyle pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to him. "Why?"

"D'you test youself after you ate?"

"Yeah. I always—"

Kenny checked the history. "One-fifty-six," read out loud, "Okay, good." He handed it back to the redhead.

Kyle stared at him for a while, then giggled. "They were sugar-free chocolate muffins, Ken. Mom made them for me."

Kenny laughed as well. "Great. That's… great. You scared me for a second there."

Kyle gave a smile, a softness in his eyes. "Thanks for worrying, Kenny. But you know how strict I am about what I eat. Give my self-control some credit."

Kenny laughed again. "Your self-control? Because you weren't just trying to eat my face a few seconds ago."

"That's different," Kyle lectured, "You're addictive."

"Does that mean we can make-out again now?"

"Yes. Yes, it does."