Sonny laid in bed, half-delirious and sick as hell. He ran a near 101 temp, causing his mother to do everything possible to bring it down. At this point, he had mounds of blankets on top of him and a cool rag on his forehead. It was, surprisingly, working.
A knock was at the door, which his mother answered quickly. Quentin stood in front of the door, briefcase in hand. Some muffled talking followed by thumping from the steps meant that Quentin would be staying a while.
"Hey, Sonny, old chap," he said in his trademark faux English accent, setting the briefcase by his nightstand. "Heard you were sick."
Sonny weakly smiled and mumbled something too quietly to be heard. He shuffled in bed to where he was sitting up more than laying down. "Yea... I kinda have a fever and stuff, or somethin'." Very little was actually making sense at this point.
A few hours passed, talk about school, their rockets, what they would be doing for Christmas break (it had been a snow day that day, anyway), and the like. Eventually, the topic of girls came up.
"So, Quentin," Sonny began, swallowing a drink of water from the glass his mother gave him not long before, "have you ever kissed a girl?"
The other boy's lips tightened into a frown as he shook his head. "I can't say I have... Have you?"
Sonny shook his head as well. "Not yet, anyways." Oh, sure, he was madly in love with Dorothy Plunk, but there was always something that plagued the back of his mind. He never spoke of it, due to what he heard happened go those like him in some way. Sure, he liked girls (again, Dorothy Plunk), but every now and then he'd see a boy that would pique his interest slightly. As he got to know him, Quentin was one of these boys.
"I see..." He crossed his leg over the other, resting his ankle on his knee. He took off his glasses for a moment, wiping them on his shirt, and putting them back on. Quietly, he asked, "What about a boy?"
His mouth ran dry. He shook his head, trying to conceal his fear. "H-Have you?" He whispered.
Quentin glanced at the door before nodding silently, bowing his head almost in shame. Sonny's jaw was visibly slack, which his friend didn't take long to notice. "Sonny, I-"
He held up his hand. "Did you like it?"
"Huh?"
"Did you like it?"
Quentin nodded again, eyes locked with Sonny's. "Why do you ask?"
"I was just..." He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "Just curious." Sonny tried not to look at his lips, something that was dead giveaway about the desire to kiss (at least that's what he read in a magazine of Jim's).
However, Quentin noticed. "Do you want-?"
"I'm sick."
"Your mother told me you weren't contagious."
He nodded, averting Quentin's gaze. He could get into serious trouble for this. If not from his parents or Quentin's, then definitely the law.
The other boy moved quickly, pressing his lips to Sonny's before Sonny could overthink it. He lifted Sonny's face with a slender hand, breaking the kiss not long after. Simple. Not passionate and rough, but caring and sweet. Gentle. "How was that?" He asked semi-nonchalantly, as if it were something that happened all of the time.
Giving a small smile, Sonny used Quentin's famous adjective. "Prodigious."
But they were to never speak or mention of it again, for now.