Prompt: Colors

AN: So, more Skins stories I've cooked up, though these include more than just Maxxie/Tony. I now totally ship Maxxie/Chris and will always ship Frookie. So, yeah.

As stated, these don't actually have morals, if you looked up the meaning of apologue.

Pairing: Maxxie/Chris

Maxxie was high.

Maxxie was not normally high, as he thought drugs and other such vices would impair his dancing abilities in the long run. Maxxie did not usually partake in any of the normalities his other friends enjoyed; he did not ususally take drugs, or drink, or stay out past three in the morning.

Today, he was breaking all his rules.

Humming to himself, Maxxie held a hand up, twirling his fingers. He was convinced that his digits were making patterns in the air above him, disturbing the equilibrium of things. In his mind, his fingers left waves of bright, rainbow colors.

Maxxie was lying on the ground in Chris's room, empty bottles and pickets littering the expanse of it while The Smiths blasted in the background. Chris, who had been busy feeding his fish some MDMA, came over next to Maxxie, lying so their heads were close together. He stared at the space of ceiling that Maxxie seemed to be so fixated upon. "Whatcha doin', Max?" He asked, watching as Maxxie's fingers danced above them.

Maxxie smiled beatifically. "It's...the colors, mate. They move when you move." Maxxie demonstrated by twirling his fingers, twisting the colors of the room, lime green and hazy purple and deep red running from the tips of his fingers.

Chris's eyes grew wide as he watched, fascinated. "Fuck, Max, even your fingers can dance," he breathed out.

Maxxie's grin widened. "You can do it too. Watch." He grabbed Chris's hands, waving them slowly, a trickle of laughter escaping his lips at the colorful landscape Chris was leaving behind.

Chris, transfixed, moved his fingers up and down, watching as they left colorful patterns in their wake. He smiled, turning his head to look at Maxxie. "What's that scientific word for fingers?"

Maxxie also turned his head, wearing a blissed-out expression. "Phalanges."

Chris nodded his head. "Dancing phalanges."

The two burst out in giggles, heads gently knocking against each other. Chris twisted their hands so their fingers were interlocked. He leaned forward, placing a kiss on Maxxie's lips. They stared at each other for a few seconds or so, still smiling. "Didn't know you were into boys, Chris," Maxxie commented, blinking slowly.

"Neither did I, mate," Chris responded before pulling Maxxie on top of him, watching as the colors in the air made a sort of halo around Maxxie's head.

As Chris pulled Maxxie down for another kiss, the blond contemplated stopping this; was it considered taking advantage of Chris if they were both high? What if the brunet hadn't really meant to kiss him? What if this ruined their friendship?

As Chris's lips brushed against his and Chris's hands found their way to his hips, Maxxie found that, for now, he didn't really give a damn.