this is the longest chapter of this fic so far. um...i didn't proof read this, so i apologize for any mistakes. that's pretty much all i have to say about this one. :)

warning: ...lol. some bad language?


There aren't very many things in the world that Carlos hates. Everyone that's ever been around the boy has heard nothing but "Oh, I love this!" and "I'm so in love with the food here." and "I love you." So when he and Logan are sitting around the apartment watching a movie, Logan eating straight from a can of whipped cream, and Carlos says, "I hate it when you do that," the world halts for a moment.

Logan freezes and snaps his head in Carlos' direction. The look on his face is one of shock and confusion and just a little bit childish, the way his cheeks are puffed out from having his mouth full of whipped cream. A small trickle of the melted cream leaks from the corner of Logan's mouth but he makes no move to wipe it away.

"Don't give me that look," Carlos says as he shoots his friend a look of his own. One that nobody's really seen before and Logan can't quite place the emotion behind it, but he's pretty sure it isn't a good one.

He swallows, gives a nervous chuckle and sprays a bit more of the canned cream onto his hand. "You hate it when I do
what?" Logan asks as he looks over to Carlos again, carefully licking topping from his fingers.

Carlos takes a deep, concentrated breath, eyes closed and it's obvious that he's clenching his jaw as tight as humanly possible. "That!" he finally grits out and motions toward the aerosol can in Logan's hand. "I hate it when you eat whipped cream straight from the can."

"You do it!" The tone Logan uses is somewhere between accusatory and 'I-just-don't-give-a-shit' when he speaks and makes a point to suck the cream from his palm right when Carlos is looking again, their eyes locking. He grins to himself when he sees Carlos squeeze his eyes shut again, balling his fists at his sides.

"I don't-," Carlos starts to say, but interrupts himself with a long exhale and subtly glares at Logan. "I don't do it anymore because you yelled at me the last time I did."

Logan takes a second to think before shrugging it off and dispensing a line of cream along his finger tips. Each finger gets carefully sucked between his lips, making extra sure to lick around each digit to catch anything that may have dripped down. He can feel eyes burning into the side of his head and it takes everything he has no to flat out smirk.

This is how it goes for a full five minutes, which really isn't that long, but for Carlos, it was slow and torturous. Somewhere along the three minute mark, his helmet found its way into his lap; his fingers gripping onto the smooth plastic like his life depended on it. Never has anything made him as aroused as he is now.

It's painful, in a way, to watch his best friend relentlessly suck whipped cream off his fingers like some cheap whore. The even more painful thing is that not one even remotely homosexual thought about Logan has crossed Carlos' mind. Not once. And then all of the sudden, give Logan a can of Redi-Whip, some fingers, let him put on a show, and the images start pouring in. There's no doubt that Logan could probably turn the straightest man a little bit gay with what he's doing.

And then, to make matters worse, there's a line of melted cream snaking its way down Logan's arm, stopping to pool where the crease is. It takes a second for him to notice, but when he does, he brings the arm up to his face and sticks his tongue out. But before he presses on, he makes damn sure that Carlos is watching before his eyes flutter to a close and his tongue makes the slow trek up.

That's it. Carlos is done. There's only so much one person can tolerate and he went past that point a long time ago. With a huff, the boy quickly shoots off the couch and strains out, "I have to go to the bathroom."

Logan watches with a triumphant smile as his friend stomps to the bathroom, shoulders set in a straight line, and slams the door shut. He waits a minute or two before he sets the half empty can down and finds himself following after Carlos.

"Oh yeah," he coos as he strips himself of his shirt on the way to the bathroom. "He totally wants to fuck me."