Still no s-e-x. But getting closer... :p

Larry got his ice cream cone. In fact he was surprised when Moe put his hand deep into his pocket and paid for ice cream cones for all three Stooges, including Curly, who'd already had one. Curly's eyes lit up with delight as Moe handed him his second cone, a double scoop concoction of chocolate chip and strawberry cheesecake.

"Woob woob woob woob woob!" the bald Stooge twittered, jumping up and down on the spot.

"Shaddap and eat it before I make ya wear it," Moe huffed. He turned back to the ice cream cart and shoved a small child out of the way. "I ain't done yet," he grumbled. He then asked for a double scoop each of Butter Pecan and French Vanilla. Larry was secretly thrilled that Moe had ordered the same flavours for himself as the ones he wanted. It was like being connected to the chief Stooge somehow. He didn't even know if Moe liked Butter Pecan and French Vanilla.

"Here ya go, porcupine." Moe handed Larry his cone. Larry tried not to look eager and grateful as he took the cone from Moe's outstretched hand. He also tried hard not to touch Moe's fingers at the same time, but it was impossible because Moe was clutching the cone like it was a softball bat.

Larry closed his eyes in ecstasy at the first taste of the sweet, refreshing ice cream. A soft sigh of pleasure escaped his lips before he could stop it. He blushed and opened his eyes to find Moe looking at him with undisguised amusement.

"Geez, porcupine, it's just an ice cream cone," Moe laughed. Larry blushed even more furiously, but at the same time his heart soared. It was so nice to hear the grumpy leader of the Stooges laughing for a change. Larry was so heartened that he slid his tongue slowly around the ice cream cone while fixing Moe with a flirty look. The bowl head almost choked on his own ice cream and looked away quickly. Larry smiled to himself, thinking that the back of Moe's neck was beginning to look a little 'sunburned'.

The afternoon passed peacefully. Moe's mood improved even further when two kids aged about thirteen collided with each other while chasing the same frisbee from two different directions. The kids collapsed in a heap, crying and clutching their bleeding noses. Moe bent over double, laughing so hard that Larry had to thump between his shoulderblades when the chief Stooge began coughing. "Did ya see those two morons?" Moe choked, gasping for air as Larry banged on his back. "Ain't it good to see other people doin' dumb things for a change?" The children's parents turned and glared at Moe which just made the bowl head laugh harder.

"You'll get us in trouble," Larry chided with a smile, dragging the cackling bowl head away before the kids' father came over and popped him one.

The Stooges headed on up past the duck pond where kids and dogs were running around causing the feathery waterfowl to flap up into the sky and then skid down along the surface of the water, quacking their annoyance and then swimming over to eat hunks of bread thrown by the very same kids.

"Hey, Moe!" Curly shouted. "Those boids eat better than we do!"

Moe slapped Curly across the back of his solid cranium. "Ungrateful, eh? I don't see those boids eatin' delicious ice cream cones," the chief Stooge grunted.

While Moe and Curly argued, Larry drifted off into a daydream. It wasn't difficult to let his swollen eyes flutter closed as he recalled the way Moe ate his ice cream, the creamy slick of French Vanilla on his lips as he licked the cold sweetness into his hot mouth, the way he squinted into the sun as he concentrated on keeping the sticky substance from melting all over his hand. Larry imagined lifting Moe's hand to his lips and sucking the ice cream from each and every one of Moe's fingers, his tongue lapping slowly and thoroughly all around Moe's fingertips. Lost in thought, he smiled happily at his saucy daydream and didn't realise that the chief Stooge was now standing right beside him.

"Smilin', eh." Moe said softly. Larry's eyes opened abruptly. He swallowed nervously and glanced sideways. "Penny for your thoughts? Or is that too much?"

"Just thinkin'," Larry shrugged. He looked out across the duck pond but the sun shining on the water hurt his eyes so he looked down again, quickly.

"Anything nice?" There was a slight teasing quality to Moe's tone, as if he knew exactly what, and who, Larry had been thinking about.

Larry shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. "Maybe."

Moe peered into Larry's face. "Secrets, eh," he murmured.

Larry shook his head. "Not really."

Moe grunted. Then he surprised Larry by reaching up and touching the end of Larry's nose as gently as if it were made of spun glass. Larry shivered at the unexpected touch.

"How's the schnozz?" Moe asked. "Still tender?"

Larry nodded. "Yeah. Feels ten times it's normal size."

"Which ain't exactly little to begin with," Moe chuckled.

"Just...don't tweak, poke, punch or twist it and it'll be okay," Larry heard himself saying. "Likewise, my eyes. In case you hadn't noticed how bad they look and were thinkin' of gougin' 'em out."

"Aw, c'mon porcupine, gimme a break," Moe protested. "What's done is done. I bought ya a make-up ice cream cone, didn't I? Even got ya the same flavours as me."

"Actually Moe, they were my flavours so technically you got the same flavours as me," Larry corrected him.

"Stop arguin' while I'm apologizin'," Moe said, not for the first time in his life.

"You're apologizin'?" Larry asked, incredulously. "Should I call the newspaper and get them to put it on the front page?"

"You do and I'll put you on the front page," Moe growled. He ripped out a chunk of Larry's frizzy red hair. "'Porcupine Found Dead In Duck Pond'. Cause of death, didn't know when to quit while he was ahead."

Larry rubbed the sore patch on his scalp. Luckily he had so much crazy hair you could never see from where Moe had pulled it out. "When am I ever ahead?" he complained, only half-joking.

"When I let ya," Moe grinned. He thumped Larry soundly on the arm. "Hey, c'mon over here, let's carve our names on that tree."

Larry's eyes flew open, throbbed like billy-o, and then squeezed shut again as he followed Moe across the grass. "What? That's what kids do!" he cried. "Kids and lovestruck teenagers!"

"So, let's be kids!" Moe shouted.

"Aww, Moe. Can't we be lovestruck teenagers?" Larry batted his eyelashes and pouted at Moe like a girl.

Moe slapped Larry soundly on his shiny forehead. "Come aaaaan. I've got my pocketknife. Here, watch this." With a flourish, Moe snapped open his pocketknife and began gouging letters into the nearest tree trunk. His tongue stuck out between his lips as he worked, peeling off whole strands of bark as though he were peeling an orange. Letters began to appear. 'P', then an 'o', then an 'r'.

"Boy, you're a regular Rembrandt," Larry observed.

"Not bad, huh?" Moe licked his lips and hacked another huge chunk out of the tree. The next letters to appear were 'c' and 'u'.

"Heyyy!" Larry protested when he realised what Moe was spelling. "I don't wanna be forever immortalized on a tree as 'Porcupine'!"

"Why not? It's ya name, ain't it?" Moe grinned. He held the knife in both hands, gouging and scraping at the rough bark.

Larry began looking around, nervously. "Should we be doin' this?" he asked. "There's a park ranger over there. I think he's watchin' us."

"So, go sell him a ticket," Moe grumbled. He continued hacking away at the tree, spelling a different word now. 'D', 'y', 'n'...

"Hey! That's not fair, you get to be DynaMoe and I get to be Porcupine," Larry whined.

"Quit cryin'," Moe grunted. "This is a work of art here. Trouble is, you don't appreciate what I do for you." He stood back and gesticulated towards the tree with a flourish. Scrawled untidily in the bark were the words 'Porcupine and DynaMoe 4eva'.

"4 eva?" Larry frowned.

"That's how the kids spell it."

"No kid I know spells it like that."

Moe scowled. "Pedantic, eh. Why, I oughta..."

He was cut off by some sudden angry shouting. The park warden Larry had spotted was running towards them, waving his fist. "Hoy, you vandals! Damaging the trees is not allowed!" the warden hollered. He broke into a run towards them and the two dolts jumped three feet in the air and started running themselves, away from the tree and across the grass.

"What about Curly?" Larry gasped. "We'll lose him!"

"Forget Curly!" Moe said. "Keep runnin', chucklehead!"

Larry followed hot on Moe's heels. They ran past the children's play park where toddlers turned and gaped at them with their little mouths hanging open, they ran past the small kiosk selling sandwiches and drinks and then they sprinted round the far end of the duck lake. Larry's eyes and nose began to pound as hot blood pumped through his veins, and pretty soon the fuzzhead ground to a halt, clutching his face in his hands. Moe carried on running for a while until he realised he was on his own, then he skidded to a stop in the gravel with his arms flailing and turned around. The park warden had long since given up chasing them and Moe jogged back to Larry with a happy smile on his face.

"What'sa matter, ya pinhead? Can't take the pace?" Moe was barely out of breath.

"My eyes!" Larry garbled. "By dose!"

"Lemme see." Moe pulled Larry's hands away from his face. "Oh, yeah. You're glowin' like a signal flare. Ya better sit this one out."

Larry began moaning in pain. "One day I'm gonna die because of you, Moe Howard," he whimpered. "I'm gonna die! Die, die, die!"

Moe slapped the back of Larry's head, which only served to push Larry's nose even harder into his own hands, making the poor beleaguered fuzzball squawk like a chicken in pain. "The only thing about you that's dying is your acting," Moe grumbled. "Now come on over here and pipe down. Lemme help ya out."

Once again, Larry found himself obediently following his leader, his poor throbbing eyes fixed to the back of the chief Stooge's head where the glossy black hair was hardly a strand out of place. Moe jumped over a fallen tree log and crunched his way over piles of dead leaves. Soon they were deep inside a small copse of trees, away from the main path, the duck lake, and all the kids, dogs and parents. Once they were completely hidden from view, Moe stopped and turned to Larry.

"Let go of your face," he instructed.

"Why, so you can hit it?" Larry mumbled.

"Yeah," Moe said, scornfully. "So I can hit it!" He reached up and forcibly wrestled Larry's hands away from his throbbing visage. "What'sa matter with you, bunion head? Let go of your face, will ya?"

Larry decided it wasn't worth fighting against Moe again, not after that debilitating sucker punch to the diaphragm earlier. There was no fight left in him. His chest was still sore. His face felt like it was about to explode. Moe was relentless, even in the face of Larry's helplessness. It was best just to ride out whatever it was that Moe had brought him into the trees for.

The last thing he expected was the thing that happened.

Moe let go of Larry's hands, practically throwing them aside, and grabbed the startled porcupine by the head. Before Larry even had time to ask him what was going on, Moe leaned forward and planted his open mouth right on top of Larry's. Larry, taken completely by surprise, stumbled backwards and hit a tree. Moe didn't even flinch, he just went with Larry. Larry's arms waved helplessly in the air before his hands came to rest on Moe's shoulders. The bowl head had him pressed firmly up against the tree now. His mouth was hot and tasted faintly like Butter Pecan and his tongue slid in between Larry's lips and began searching around in his mouth like it owned the place.

"Mmm...mmm!" Larry mumbled. He sank against the tree and felt his swollen eyeballs roll back under his eyelids. Moe's kiss was hot and fierce, just like Moe himself. Larry felt the rough bark of the tree scrape brutally against the back of his head. Then, just as Larry thought he might pass out, Moe slowed right down and the kiss turned unbelievably gentle. Murmuring sweet nothings against Larry's lips, Moe slid his hands down Larry's body until he was holding him carefully by the waist. Larry stopped struggling and lifted his arms, wrapping them around Moe's neck. This is like how a guy kisses a girl, he thought, lost in the most exquisite sensations fizzing and sparking through his body. Oh, Moe. Just say the word and I'll be your girl until the mountains crumble into the sea.

The kiss went on and on. It was as if time stood still out there in the middle of the trees with everything going on around them, outside of their own little bubble. Larry slid his tongue sensuously around the inside of Moe's mouth, tasting sugar cone and pecan nuts on the bowl head's tongue and lips. He decided that Moe was quite possibly the most incredible kisser he'd ever known. Even he hadn't really kissed that many people, Larry still knew that Moe's skills in the field of lip locking were absolutely second to none. He groaned softly. Moe was driving him crazy with this kiss and he didn't ever want it to stop.

At last Moe pulled his head back, breaking that soft, sweet kiss forever. His eyes were glassy, his bangs untidy from where they'd rubbed against Larry's head. Larry wanted to rearrange them with his fingers but he didn't. Even though the bowl head had just kissed him tenderly to within an inch of his life, Larry was still faintly afraid of the chief Stooge.

"Feel better now?" Moe asked, his lips close to Larry's cheek.

Larry went mute. He nodded, and his frizzy mop of hair bobbed back and forth, tickling Moe's face.

"That's good," said Moe. He nuzzled under Larry's earlobe with the tip of his nose. "What you said earlier," he continued, breathing warmly against the side of Larry's neck, making Larry shiver with excitement. "You know...how I better watch out for you in bed tonight?"

Larry swallowed. He wasn't sure what was coming next. "Mm-hmm," was all he could mutter.

"Well, my little fuzzball, I just want you to know that it works both ways." With that, Moe put his mouth against Larry's throat and nipped firmly, leaving Larry in no doubt as to what the chief Stooge meant.

Larry groaned at the feel of Moe's teeth making sharp contact with his skin. He might've known the bowl head wouldn't have let him get away with a statement like that. Moe was always in charge, and there was no point in ever trying to change that. Whatever happened. Moe would always find a way to get back on top. He was a natural born leader- being the boss came instinctively to him. Larry's anger and frustration might give him momentary strength to answer back or retaliate physically, but Moe Howard would always, always emerge the winner.

But wasn't that why Larry loved him? Not just as a fellow Stooge, not even as a surrogate brother, but as a man. Moe's ability to take charge of any situation was very attractive to Larry. So what if Moe went and screwed it up afterwards? So what if all three of them had a reputation far and wide as complete and utter imbeciles? Maybe that was how the rest of the world perceived them, and heck, the rest of the world was crazy enough. But between the three of them, between Moe, Larry and Curly, they were a tight unit with a hierarchy that worked, and there was no reason to try and fix something that wasn't broken.

Moe pushed himself away from Larry. He raked his hand through his thick, black bangs, let them fall back as they may. His cheeks looked a little flushed, his scorched brown eyes a little more glittery than usual. Larry peeled himself away from the rough bark of the tree and winced as his shoulderblades went into cramp. He felt like he'd gone 10 rounds in the ring with both Muhammed Ali and Joe Lewis. There were leaves stuck in his hair and he pulled them out one by one, silently mouthing he loves me, he loves me not...

"We better go find Curly," Moe decided. "There's no telling how many ice cream cones that air balloon must have eaten by now."

They left the copse and walked back to where they'd last seen Curly, past the tree where Moe had carved the legend 'Porcupine and DynaMoe 4eva'. Larry thought about it, wondered why Moe had done that. Just to tease me, he decided. Just to get me all worked up and hopeful. Because he didn't carve our real names, did he? He didn't write Moe H. and Larry F. 4eva. Nor did he surround them with a crude heart and arrow combination, like all the best tree signatures. Porcupine and DynaMoe could be anybody, Larry decided. Nicknames. Like those other morons Moe slapped around on Jersey Shore. Not even real names. Not even real people. Just cartoon monikers that meant nothing.

They spotted Curly, in the middle of a bunch of kids doing the Curly shuffle, woo woo woo-ing and skidding around the grass in a circle.

"Look at that nitwit," Moe said, shaking his head. "I can't believe we're related. I guess I got the looks and the brains."

You're telling me, thought Larry, feasting his eyes on the bowl head's scowling profile.

"Hey! Bubblegum! Whaddya doin'?" Moe began yelling. He left Larry's side and began running down the path towards Curly. "Get up off the grass, ya noodle! You know how difficult it is to get grass stains outta those pants? Whaddya think, I'm just gonna keep buying new clothes for ya, ya great big zeppelin?"

The kids all started laughing as Moe dragged Curly up off the grass and dispensed a series of pistol cracks across the chucklehead's skull.

"But, Moe! But, Moe!" Curly slapped his own face and jumped up and down on the spot. Moe slapped him again, then boinged him in the stomach with his fist and flicked upwards to bop him on the nose. Reaching up with both hands, he twisted hard on Curly's ears as though he were starting up a motorbike. Owowowowowowowowowow! Went Curly. Come aaaaaaan, went Moe. The kids laughed like gurgling drains, falling down all over themselves with tears streaming down their cheeks.

Larry watched his beloved bowl head raining unconditional smacks, slaps and eyepokes down on the hapless Curly, and a shudder of pure electricity went through him as he dared to dream about the surprises that tonight would bring.