A/N: Yeah, so here's another one. The second one written (I've got quite a few more in the works). This was also inspired by my friend Jess, in the food court at school. I was harassing her to hurry up and decide what she wanted to eat. I kept saying "c'mon, you gotta choose. What do you want? Whaddayawantwhaddaywanwhaddayawnat?!" And she pretended to get all spazzy and was like "I CANNOT FUNCTION LIKE THIS!" And voila, I instantly thought of Horatio. So once again, our corrupt minds fostered this idea. Enjoy.

DISCLAIMER: I own no part of Hamlet. A dead genius named Shakespeare has all the rights to that.

CLAIMER: Horatio's typewriter, his quilt, all rough drafts, Horatio's cut off t-shirt, and Hamlet's ability to make the water drip sound, which I totally cannot do.

NOTES: The "water drip sound" that's mentioned? A lot of people are confused by this. Watch Ferris Bueller's Day Off. The scene at the stock market where Ferris proposes to Sloane? Cameron is watching and he keeps making this water drip sounds (kinda a "ploink" noise) with his mouth. That's what I mean. This kid Nick sits behind me in my History of Theatre class and does that noise, too.

-Secondly, Horatio is (in my mind) excessively poor and also orphaned, so Gertrude has been like a mother to him all his life (eventually I'll post the fic I'm working on of how Hamlet and Horatio met and that'll give background to these fics). That explains the typewriter and the quilt and Gertrude's attitude, etc.

-Also, there is no sex in this fic. As always, if you want to imagine sex at the end, its an ending that allows you to imagine away. However, I didn't intend them to have sex, so for you pure minded folks, no sex is involved, mmkaaaay? Also, I know the ending is kinda weak, but I've had this ficlet sitting in my comp and gathering dust for a while now and I still couldn't come up with a better ending, even with the help of a few friends, so this is how it is. Deal.

DEDICATION: Jess! Without you and your drawings and ideas, my twisted mind would not develope all these crazy ideas. History of Theatre forever! "Dog food." And helping me with my lines! "Love." "FUCK." "...love?" Hehe, woot. Gotta get writing our play! Next semester with Anna! Huzzah!

FICLET!

The keys on the typewriter went clicking by at top speed. Horatio sat in the dim and flickering light of his bedroom, fingers flying gracefully over the keys, eyes scanning back and forth, rereading what he'd already finished writing.

A knock came at the door, someone rapping out the rhythm of "Shave and a haircut" and not leaving out the six bits finish. Horatio sighed. "Come in, Hamlet."

The door swung open, crashing loudly against the wall, and Hamlet entered, grinning broadly from ear to ear. "What's up, Horatio, old buddy old pal?"

"Finishing my paper, if you must know," Horatio mumbled, eyes not leaving the work in front of him. Hamlet made a general sound of understanding.

"Ahh, yes, that paper."

"What, did you finish already?"

"Ummm…that depends what you mean by 'finish'," Hamlet said, flopping on one side on Horatio's bed.

"Finish, Hamlet, finish; you've had better schooling than me, you should know what 'finish' means." Horatio said, the first note of irritation creeping into his voice.

"Oh? Well why don't you explain it to me?" Hamlet teased. Horatio sighed.

"Finish: verb, to arrive at the end of; to bring to an end; to put an end to; to make an end of; to terminate, to bestow the last required labor upon; to complete; to perfect; to accomplish; to polish…" he paused, staring at one very amused Hamlet. "…need I continue?"

"Nope, that seemed like a pretty good definition to me," Hamlet said, grinning.

"…well? Any reactions? Comments? Anything?"

Hamlet laughed. "Well, other than why am I not surprised that you knew that definition verbatim, no, not really."

"You're avoiding the question, Hamlet."

"And what question is that, my dear Horatio?"

"I gave that definition so you could tell me if you've finished your paper."

"You mean, in relation to that definition, have I finished?"

"Yes."

"…….Well then, no, not in the broadest sense of the word…"

"…meaning?"

"….meaning…."

Horatio sighed. "Meaning that you haven't started yet."

Hamlet grinned. "Bingo."

Another long suffering sigh escaped Horatio's lips, breath flying up to ruffle his long blonde bangs which hung in his eyes, desperately in need of a cutting. Hamlet's grin turned slightly more affectionate at he watched the irritation flood Horatio's brilliant blue eyes. "Hamlet, honestly, I don't know why you do this to yourself."

"Do what?"

"Waste your skills. Squander your incredible intelligence simply because you don't feel like trying."

"Oh, you flatter me."

"I do not. You're incredibly smart, Hamlet, if only you'd try."

"Pffft, stop, you'll make me blush."

"I'm not trying to compliment you, Hamlet, I'm trying to get you to do some actual work for once. You'd be so good if you'd just get your act together."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Valedictorian."

At the mere mention of his former high school title, Horatio flushed crimson. He had been number one in the class since their freshman year and senior year had been no exception. In fact, everyone had expected him to be valedictorian…everyone except Horatio himself. When he had found out, he had turned the color of a tomato, and when he realized he had to make a speech he had passed out cold at the thought. Hamlet had kindly dumped a bottle of ice water over his head to wake him up. Horatio had come to, sputtering, shaking, and stuttering as he tried with all his might to convince everyone that he could not, simply could not make a speech at graduation. Somehow they had talked him into it.

"Don't CALL me that!" Horatio slammed his hands down on they typewriter, in his embarrassment and annoyance accidentally hitting the keys and typing a bunch of gibberish letters on his paper. "Son of a BITCH! Hamlet! Look what you made me do!"

Hamlet propped himself up on one elbow and attempted to look remorseful, but it was hard when Horatio was glaring at him with such a comical look of fury on his face, cheeks puffed up and his bottom lip jutting ever so slightly in just the same way it had done ever since they were children. Hamlet bit his lip to hold back the giggles. "…sorry?"

"Yeah, I bet you are." Horatio furiously yanked the ruined paper out of the typewriter.

"My, you did that with quite some gusto!"

"Shut up."

"Why d'you still use that thing, anyway?" Hamlet asked, peering at the ancient typewriter.

"Because I like it," Horatio said. "It takes more skill than a computer and it looks nicer when finished….and besides, I'm too poor to buy a computer."

"Is that it?" Hamlet asked. "Horatio, I'd buy you a computer any time you want! You should have told me you needed one!"

"No no no, I don't, I don't need a computer," Horatio said quickly, "Don't want one, either. I like my typewriter just fine."

"Okay," Hamlet said doubtfully, watching Horatio blot away some excess ink and wind in a new sheet of paper. "Well, if you're sure…"

"Positive."

"Okay." Silence fell as Horatio began typing again, peering at his rough draft as his fingers flew over the keys. "Damn, you type fast," Hamlet commented.

"Yes." There was another long pause, only the clacking of keys filling the room.

"…not in the mood to talk, I take it."

"Not when I'm typing," Horatio responded curtly. "Don't want to mess up again."

"Okay." Hamlet was still for a few moments, content to just watch Horatio type, observing every tiny detail. The way the blonde got a little crinkle in his forehead right between his eyes as he leaned forwards, concentrating hard on the paper before him. The way he bit his lip as though it would help him type. The way he absentmindedly tapped his right foot rapidly on the floor. The way his lips moved as he silently reread his work. The way he brushed his hair out of his eyes with irritation and continued writing. Then Horatio glanced in Hamlet's direction, finally noticing the brunette's attention.

"…you're staring at me."

Hamlet let out a mock gasp of surprise and delight. "And they said you weren't smart!"

Horatio sighed yet again. "Do not watch, I cannot think when you watch."

Hamlet saluted; Horatio sighed, shaking his head. Giggling, Hamlet tugged Horatio's worn quilt up over his head, rolling into it as he pulled until he was rolled up in it tightly, just like a taco. "Didn't realize you still had this," Hamlet said, his voice muffled by the layers of fabric.

"Of course I do."

"When did mom make this for you? Third grade?"

"Second."

The quilt was patterns of blues and greens and aquas, colors Gertrude had said at the time that she had picked out to "match Horatio's eyes." Poking his nose out, Hamlet looked closely at said eyes, and then back to the blanket. It was a pretty good match. Fourteen years later, the quilt had huge worn patches and the colors had faded, but here it was. "…you've taken good care of it. Mom would be happy."

"Good…I like your mom."

"She likes you." Hamlet wriggled deeper into the blanket.

"I'm glad." Horatio glanced over and saw Hamlet all wound up in his quilt and couldn't help but laugh. "You look like a giant blue burrito."

"Oh yes? And do you see a lot of those, Horatio?"

"What, giant blue burritos? Oh yeah, all the time. None that look as good as you, though."

"Haha, of course not."

Horatio laughed. "Fucking egomaniac."

"Pffft, of course." Silence fell again. Hamlet burrowed deep into Horatio's pillow, breathing deeply and inhaling the scent of Horatio's hair. If there was one thing he had always loved, it was the smell of Horatio's hair. Horatio used none of that expensive stuff (he probably could afford it, but he would never waste the money on such things); he stuck to the simple things. Suave shampoo and conditioner, apple scented. God, Hamlet loved that smell. "Mmm…" he sighed contentedly, burrowing ever deeper.

"What now?"

"…nothing."

"Then please shut up."

"…kay." Hamlet tugged the blanket up under his chin and let his eyes slip shut, sighing one last time before he fell into a contented sleep. Horatio glanced over, a small smile on his face as he eyed the sleeping form of his best friend. Hamlet's brown hair was a tousled mess, falling gently into his eyes as he breathed deeply and evenly. Shaking his head, Horatio turned back and continued to type.

Hamlet awoke to the sound of furious typing. Stretching, he rolled over on his back and opened bleary eyes, arms up over his head. To his left, Horatio still typed madly. "You're still at that?"

"Yes…I messed up again."

"God, Horatio, just let me buy you a computer."

"NO!"

"Okay, okay…geez. No need to get all upset." Hamlet rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Can't believe I fell asleep." Getting no answer, he wriggled about on his back, trying to find the perfect position. "Your bed's really comfy."

"Hamlet, I'm sorry, I don't mean to be an asshole, but can you please shut up?"

"…..nooo…."

Horatio made an unintelligible noise of exasperation. "Hamlet, seriously, I need to concentrate!"

"Horatio, m'dear, you're absolutelybrilliant. It doesn't matter how much you slack on this paper because you'll get an incredible grade anyway."

"Hamlet, just because you're slacking doesn't mean I'm going to do the same! You may not get this, but I actually LIKE doing well! I'm on a fucking scholarship, okay? I can't afford to pay for my education on my own! So if I fail, if I get even one bad grade…I'll be done. Out. Finished. Do you understand?"

"…sure."

Horatio sighed. "Sure you do." Turning away, he went back to his paper. Hamlet stared. Slowly, an evil grin curved up his lips. He did the one thing he knew Horatio hated above all other things: with his mouth, he loudly made that annoying sound…that sound of water dripping. That sound which drove Horatio insane. Ploink As soon as he did it, Horatio's shoulders tensed. "…Hamlet…" he growled.

Hamlet grinned. He made the sound again. Ploink Horatio took a deep breath and continued to type, though slower this time, and Hamlet knew that he was starting to get on Horatio's nerves. PloinkThe typing slowed even more, became choppy. PloinkThe typing stopped completely, and Hamlet stopped too, waiting. Horatio waited for the sound again, glancing at Hamlet out of the corner of his eye. Hamlet smiled sweetly back. Sighing, Horatio turned back and was about to start typing again when…Ploink

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH HAMLET STOP IT! I CANNOT WORK UNDER THESE CONDITIONS!" Horatio's face was drawn, he waved frantic hands about crazily in the air, completely freaking out. Hamlet stifled his snickers. PloinkThat was it. The last straw. Horatio was on his feet and heading for the bed. "Think it's funny, do you? Think it's funny if I fail my paper and get kicked out of school?!" He grabbed for Hamlet, fingers clenching in Hamlet's shoulders as he shook the brunette wildly. Hamlet laughed, fingers tightening around Horatio's wrists. Suddenly, without warning, he tugged Horatio off balance, pulling the blonde onto the bed with him so haphazardly that Horatio landed half on top of Hamlet, his upper half hitting the mattress and his legs tangling with Hamlet's.

"YEAH, I think it's funny…I think YOU'RE funny…you don't need to get nearly this worked up over this paper, Horatio."

"You just don't get it, Hamlet! You don't understand! I could lose my entire scholarship! I could get kicked out of college and I'm not rich like you, Hamlet! I can't just pay for my own education! I can't do it! And I want nothing more than this, Hamlet! I want to graduate from college! More than anything!"

"…anything?"

Horatio stared at Hamlet, a slight blush crossing his cheeks. "…yes," he said at last, firmly. "Yes. More than anything."

"And you will, Horatio. You don't have any inkling of just how brilliant you are. You haven't failed a single thing in any of your classes…you have nothing to worry about, you crazy dork!"

Horatio stared at Hamlet. "I know," he said softly, "But…" He looked away.

"..but?" Hamlet prompted. Horatio looked up at Hamlet, face very serious.

"…I worry."

Hamlet chuckled. "I know. And you don't need to. I'm serious, Horatio, you're brilliant."

"…really?" Horatio's eyes were hopeful, shining, cornflower blue.

Hamlet smiled. "Really."

Horatio's smile mirrored Hamlet's own, and then, it faded, his face very serious again. Leaning forwards, eyes sliding shut, he kissed Hamlet. It was scarcely a kiss, his lips just barely brushing ever so lightly against Hamlet's. Hamlet's breath caught in his throat, eyes wide in surprise. Horatio pulled back, eyes still shut, lips parted as he tried to hold on to the moment. Slowly, wide, frightened blue eyes opened to look into Hamlet's green ones.

"Horatio," Hamlet whispered, voice barely audible.

"…I'm sorry," Horatio said, cheeks stained pink, his gaze settling on the worn quilt, anything so as not to look at Hamlet. "I…I just…" He glanced up just as Hamlet leaned in and kissed him. This time it was Horatio's turn to be surprised. Hamlet's fingers gently brushed against his cheek, the other hand tangling in long blonde hair. Horatio waited only a moment longer before, trembling, he pressed into the kiss. Fingers clenched tightly in Hamlet's shirt, he pressed into Hamlet, all the pieces falling together now, just as he'd always thought they would, if he ever got the chance to try it. Well…he had his chance…he took it…and apparently it was working out.

Hamlet pulled away, smiling at the sight of the simple sweet smile on Horatio's face. "Don't be sorry," he said softly, tugging a lock of blonde hair.

"Okay…I'm not," Horatio said, laughing.

"Good…because you're always sorry for something…and you never should be…cause you never do anything wrong."

"I don't?"

"No," Hamlet said. "You, my friend," and he tapped the tip of Horatio's nose with one finger, "are absolutely perfect."

Horatio flushed crimson. "I am not."

"Hush, Horatio, you don't argue with the president's son."

"Oh, so I'm supposed to give you your way just because you're dad's a big political figure?"

"…yes." Hamlet said decisively.

"Oh." Horatio paused. "…okay." He kissed Hamlet briefly, Hamlet laughing against Horatio's mouth.

"I'm surprised you agreed."

"Oh, you know," Horatio said, snuggling closer to Hamlet, "it was just those big green eyes of yours. I can't refuse."

Hamlet laughed. "Then stay here."

"What?"

"Don't finish the paper tonight…do it in the morning."

Horatio shot upright, eyes the size of saucers. "HAMLET! I can't do that!"

"Yes you can!" Hamlet grabbed Horatio's collar. "That class isn't until two in the afternoon! You'll have plenty of time!"

Horatio stared at Hamlet, face drawn and worried…and then, every bit of it just relaxed and he let out another of those sighs, only not so upset sounding this time. "Okay."

"Okay?" Hamlet's eyes lit up. Horatio laughed.

"Okay…but just for you."

Laughing, Hamlet pressed a quick kiss to Horatio's cheek. "Now, sleep," he ordered. Horatio smiled, eyelids already heavy from the long day of schoolwork.

"Okay," he whispered, nearly asleep already. Hamlet tightened his hold on Horatio, pulling the blonde a little closer. Horatio's breathing was already becoming deep and steady.

"…Horatio?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you asleep?"

"MmmMmm."

That sounded like a no. Hamlet wasn't sure. "So if I tell you something now you'll remember it tomorrow?"

"MmmHmm."

"Okay." Hamlet took a deep breath. "…I love you." Turning to look at Horatio, he found the blonde now wide awake, staring with shocked, emotion filled eyes right back at him. For the first time that night, it was Hamlet's turn to flush. "…Well?" he said at last. "Aren't you going to say something?"

A smile curving up his lips, Horatio leaned forwards and kissed Hamlet. "I love you, too."

Relief broke across Hamlet's face.

"I mean, really, Hamlet," Horatio said, smile widening every second. "…how could you ever doubt it?"

Hamlet laughed. "I don't know," he said. "But I'm glad for it. Now go to sleep." He really didn't need to give the command; Horatio was out again in about ten seconds flat. It was a long time before Hamlet was able to sleep, due to his nap earlier that day, but it didn't matter to him. He watched Horatio sleep, running fingers through unkempt blonde hair until sleep took him about two hours later.

Horatio opened his eyes slowly, peering blearily into the barely lit room. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. Yawning, he rolled over, reaching for the clock, pulling it off the shelf and bringing it close to his face to read it. 11:13…what?! Horatio shot upright. "Omigodomigodomigod, I'm so late I'm so late I need to finish my-"

He stopped abruptly as his eyes locked onto something unexpected, something he had somehow missed previously. Hamlet was asleep at his desk, cheek resting on a pile of typed papers. His brown hair was a mess, his lips parted just ever so slightly as he breathed in and out, breath ruffling the papers. An affectionate smile crossed Horatio's lips. Hamlet looked like such a two year old. But what's he doing there

Sliding out of bed, Horatio padded softly across the room on bare feet and leaned forwards over the sleeping form of his best friend, peering at the papers Hamlet was sleeping on. He realized with a jolt of surprise that it was his paper…finished. It seemed that Hamlet had woken up early and finished typing Horatio's paper for him. Horatio thought his heart was about to melt into a big gushy puddle. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to Hamlet's cheek. "Wake up, dear."

Slowly, tired green eyes slid open, then looked up at Horatio in confusion. "…where am I?"

"My desk."

"Oh…" Hamlet sat up, wincing. "So that's why I'm so sore." He turned towards Horatio and opened his mouth to say something, but stopped short when Horatio began laughing uncontrollably. "What?" He stared at the blonde, completely bewildered. "What is so funny?"

"H..h…Hamlet," Horatio stuttered between bursts of laughter. "You…your…look…look at your face!"

Hamlet's brow furrowed. "…my face?" Getting out of the chair, he crossed the room and went into the bathroom. "GAH!"
At Hamlet's cry of surprise, Horatio literally tumbled onto the floor, curled into a ball as he laughed hysterically. Hamlet came running back out, eyes huge with surprise at finding Horatio's entire closing statement written backwards along one cheek. Apparently he had slept on it while it was still wet, and now everything he had typed was written backwards across his face.

"Who's the dork now, huh?" Horatio demanded, barely able to get the words out, completely out of breath from his laughter. A grin crossed Hamlet's face.

"I am," he admitted. Crossing over to where Horatio still lay, he sprawled out on the floor next to his best friend.

Horatio clutched his stomach. "Ow," he said weakly.

"Aww, did you laugh too much?" Hamlet asked dryly.

"No…it was worth it," Horatio shot back. There was a pause. "…thanks. For finishing my paper for me. I really really appreciate it."

"No problem."

"Did you even do yours yet?"

"…not…as such."

Horatio made a sound that was half a sigh and half a growl. "Arrgggggggggh, Ham-LET!"

"What?"

"Come on! You have to get your paper done, now!"

"Oh, don't be such a workaholic," Hamlet whispered, kissing Horatio's cheek. "Slack a little."

"No," Horatio laughed as Hamlet pressed teasing kisses everywhere, tickling along his throat, "I slacked last night!"

"Oh, so you mean it's my turn to slack?"

"Yes…wait, no!" Horatio cried. "DAMMIT, Hamlet!" Hamlet started laughing.

"Too late, Horatio, you already said I could!" Hamlet teased, fingers tracing lightly over the bare skin left exposed by Horatio's cut off t-shirt. Horatio let out a pretty sort of sigh, eyes sliding half shut at the teasing sensations of Hamlet's fingers on his skin. "So I guess that means I don't have to do my paper….right?"

"Mmm," Horatio hummed, stretching a bit. "…right."

"HUH?!"

Horatio laughed. "Honestly, Hamlet, at this point in time, you've got about two hours to do a twelve page paper. I highly doubt it'll happen, so what's the point in forcing it?"

Hamlet's eyes were surprised. "…well…I do have notes and a half finished rough draft at home," he said slowly, staring at Horatio with a very calculating look in his eyes.

"I thought you said you hadn't started."

"Well….I fibbed."

"Ahh, just forget it, Hamlet."

Hamlet's eyes filled with a smile, a grin spreading across his face. He rolled over and right on top of Horatio, effectively pinning the slimmer boy to the floor. "Wow, Horatio encouraging me to slack…never thought I'd see the day."

Horatio smiled. "Mark it on your calendar."

"Oh, I will," Hamlet murmured in between the kisses he was currently pressing to Horatio's bare shoulders. "It's a historic event."

"Oh yes."

"It'll probably make it into all the papers. Can't you see the headline? 'Horatio slacks off on schoolwork; thousands die of shock." The kisses turned to gentle nips, then not so gentle biting.

"It can be my once a year slack off," Horatio managed breathlessly.

"Mmhmm."

"But just once a year."

"Okay."

"Cause it's….bad…to…to…" Horatio couldn't think to finish his sentence, not with Hamlet nipping so harshly at his bare skin. Then, Hamlet bit down nearly hard enough to draw blood. Gasping, Horatio arched up against Hamlet, their hips clashing together as he dug fingers harshly into Hamlet's shoulders. "…to slack more than that." he finished at last, breathing very harsh, one fist to his mouth to try and stifle the moan that was just dying to escape.

"Oh, definitely."

Horatio couldn't do it anymore: that damn moan escaped. "Hamlet!"

"Mmm?"

"You should probably stop that."

"Why?" Hamlet asked, not budging at all from where he was.

"Cause you're supposed to have a meeting with your tutor before class, aren't you?"

"………oh yes." Hamlet paused. "Fuck the tutor," he said at last. "Let's go see my mum. She'll be ever so glad to see you, Horatio, she hasn't seen you at all in about a month!"

"You sure it won't be a bother?"

"Pffft, of course not," Hamlet scoffed. "You worry too much. She loves you."

"…okay, then."

This is how, some twenty minutes later, Horatio found himself outside the White House, his hand clenched tightly in Hamlet's as the brunette forcibly dragged him towards the enormous building. "Hamlet, I'm not so sure this is a good idea," he hissed, glancing nervously at the guards everywhere who he was convinced were looking at him like he was scum…like he didn't belong there. In reality he was just being completely paranoid, as usual.

"Hush, of course it's a good idea," Hamlet said, completely brushing Horatio's ridiculous paranoia off as usual.

"Hamlet-"

"No, Horatio, whatever it is you're about to say, I'm not going to listen, so you may as well just shut up now."

Horatio began swatting at Hamlet's hand, trying to peel the brunette's fingers loose, anything so as to get Hamlet to release his death grip on Horatio's hand. No such luck. Before Horatio knew quite what was going on, Hamlet had give correct identification for himself, vouched for Horatio, and the two of them were inside the White House.

Horatio blinked, eyes wide. He had been here many times, of course, yet it still always stunned him with its beauty. Hamlet's family had always been rich, even growing up, so Horatio was used to the posh surroundings he always found himself in when with Hamlet. The boy got the best of everything. Completely shocking that he's not a spoiled little brat.

"MUM!"

Horatio winced at the sheer volume of Hamlet's voice as he bellowed loudly for Gertrude. It was only to get worse.

"MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM!"

"Coming, coming. Hamlet dear, what IS the problem?"

Horatio turned towards the sound of the voice and smiled immediately when he saw Gertrude coming down the stairs, pale green skirt and a matching suit jacket, her chestnut brown hair impeccably groomed. The color of the outfit perfectly complimented her green eyes, and Horatio's smile widened. Most of Hamlet's face belonged to his mother. Must be why he's so damn gorgeous. For Gertrude was still an extremely attractive woman. She was what would definitely be considered middle-aged, yet she didn't look a day over twenty-six…or so Horatio would always swear, on his honor, while Gertrude would laugh and call him a flatterer.

When Gertrude saw Horatio, she froze and then, a wide smile spreading, she moved down the stairs as quickly as possible and somehow still managed to glide as though she were walking on water. "Horatio!" Laughing, she held her arms out for him and smiling, he let her fold him close to her in a tight embrace. "It's been too long!" She pulled him back, holding him at shoulder length as though to examine him, which he figured she very well may be doing. "How long is it? When was the last time I saw you? You look so different! I swear you've gotten taller!" There was a pause as she stared, contemplative hand beneath her chin. "You need a haircut."

"I-" he began, but then she interrupted again, laughing as she embraced him once more.

"Oh, no you don't. Don't you touch a single hair on your head, Horatio, you're absolutely perfect just as you are!" When she released Horatio he was quite out of breath, but smiling fit to split his face in two.

"That's what I've been telling him," Hamlet said, nodding. "But he refuses to believe me."

"Gertrude," Horatio managed. "It's so nice to see you!"

"You stay away too long, Horatio. Too busy with that job and that school work."

Horatio coughed and he could feel rather than see the broad grin Hamlet was directing at him. "Um…yeah. Sorry about that. I am rather busy."

"Well, you'll just have to come over more often, won't you?"

"Yes…of course."

"I know how much Hamlet loves having you around," Gertrude said, winking conspiratorially at Hamlet, who rolled his eyes.

"Ma…he knows."

At Hamlet's words, Gertrude's eyes widened and so did her smile. "Ohhh, does he, now? Well then, I'm sure you two have lots to talk about…run along to your room, Hamlet, and- Hamlet, what in God's name happened to your face?"

"Oh…this?" Hamlet ran a finger over the typed letters on his cheek. "Horatio went and got a little possessive of me and tried to type on my face…you know…to brand me? To label me as his property. Something like that."

"Is that so?"

"Oh yes." Hamlet glanced at Horatio, who was blushing bright red. "Horatio is very…very…possessive of me."

Gertrude sighed, shaking her head. "Hamlet?"

"Yeah?"

"…go to your room. And take Horatio with you."

Hamlet tossed his mother a saucy grin. "I would have done that anyway." Hooking two fingers in the collar of Horatio's shirt, he dragged the blonde off. "Come on, Horatio, you heard the First Lady, she said we have to go to my room."

"Come back down for lunch," Gertrude called after them.

"Sure thing!"

Once in the room, Hamlet slammed the door loudly, giving Horatio a little shove away from him in the general direction of the bed. "God," he said. "Glad to get through that."

"Hey," Horatio laughed. "I like your mom!"

"Hey, I LOVE my mom," Hamlet said, pulling off his shoes and kicking them under the bed. "But I want you all to myself."

Horatio smiled even as his cheeks flushed bright pink. "Is that so?"

Hamlet stalked over, a look on his face that Horatio couldn't quite describe. It was part primal, part sexual, part adorably loveable. "Yes," Hamlet said softly, that look in his eyes making it very difficult for Horatio to find his breath, "that's so." And he kissed Horatio very gently, fingers just barely gracing over Horatio's shoulders with an air of almost unworthiness, as though Hamlet thought himself not worthy of actually touching Horatio.

"So," Horatio said after clearing his throat, "I…" Hamlet kissed him, cutting off all dialogue. When Hamlet pulled away, he continued. "…was wondering…." Hamlet kissed him again. "….what your mo….." Another kiss. "…your mom……" Kiss. "…meant…" Hamlet leaned in for another kiss and Horatio put one hand to the brunette's chest, halting him before he could complete the action. "What did your mom mean with the conspiratorial winking?" he finally finished. "And what did you mean when you said that I know? What do I know?"

"Umm….everything?" Hamlet suggested, leaning in to kiss Horatio again.

"Noo, that's not what I meant," Horatio said, stopping Hamlet again, who sighed and rolled his eyes in frustration.

"Horatio," Hamlet whined, bouncing slightly up and down, "how long are you really going to deny me the privilege of kissing those perfect lips of yours?"

"Until you explain what you meant," Horatio answered firmly. Hamlet sighed.

"Fine….she knows."

"Knows? Knows what?"

"How I feel about you."

Horatio blinked twice, then a look of dawning realization and sheer horror crossed his face and he turned crimson in about three and a half seconds. "She KNOWS?!" Hamlet nodded. "Ham-LET! Why? How?"
"Dude, she knew before I did," Hamlet said. "She always teased me about you…all the time. And I had no clue why. She'd always say "your Horatio" when referring to you…"your Horatio," as if you were my property or something. It confused me. And she'd always get this big grin whenever I brought you up, or if you came over, or if there was even the slightest mention of you." Moving away, he turned and plopped down onto his bed. "I was constantly wondering what it was she was thinking. And then, one day….I realized that I really did want you to be my Horatio. Mine and no one else's. And then I told her, and she got that grin. And I realized it's what she's been hoping for all along."

There was a long, silent pause. Hamlet rubbed his eyes tiredly, obviously feeling a bit awkward after sharing it all. Horatio sat down next to Hamlet.

"I like that story," he said softly. Inquisitive green eyes flicked their attention in his direction.

"…really?"

Horatio nodded.

"…why?"

Horatio paused, trying to figure out how to word it. "…it's sweet," he said at last. "I never would have expected you to come out to your mom before you've ever even had a homosexual experience, just feelings. Though it shouldn't be surprising….you're pretty damn ballsy."

Hamlet grinned. "Of course."

"But it's really really sweet," Horatio continued. "I'm glad your mom is cool with this. And…" he broke off, flushing.

"…and?" Hamlet prodded. Horatio looked up at him, pink staining his cheeks.

"…and it's kind of nice to know you've been pining for me," he said quietly. "…the way I've been for you."

A smile spread over Hamlet's face and, one hand gently stroking Horatio's cheek, he kissed the blonde. "I love you," he whispered.

Horatio smiled. "I love you too."

The two boys never did show up for lunch. When Gertrude went to Hamlet's room to inquire as to the reason for their absence, she found the two boys curled up together in Hamlet's bed, cover pulled up to their chins, fast asleep, Hamlet sort of wrapped protectively around Horatio, Horatio clinging to Hamlet's arm like it was a life preserver. A small, secret smile on her face, Gertrude pulled the window shade down to allow them some more darkness and privacy and then left the room, shutting the door softly behind her.

A few hours later, Horatio awoke and found Hamlet already up, propped up on one elbow and smiling down at him. Horatio smiled back, arms up over his head as he stretched. "Did you sleep well?" Hamlet asked.

"Terrific," Horatio managed, making a small sound of contentment as he stretched.

"I wasn't too clingy in my sleep?"

Horatio laughed. "Hamlet, cling all you want, asleep or awake, I don't think I could mind."

"Oh, yeah?" Hamlet had a devious smirk on his face. "I'll keep that in mind."

Horatio laughed and even Hamlet had to chuckle a little. Then they both fell into silence, staring at each other. Hamlet brushed a lock of blonde hair out of Horatio's blue eyes. "So...how do you think we're doing?"

"...with what?"

"....with this whole.....relationship.....thing."

Horatio smiled, fingers tracing along Hamlet's face as he pulled the brunette towards him for a kiss. "Absolutely brilliant."

fin