Chapter 6: Squirrel Hunt

Written: March 28-April 6, 2005

Author: Mondie

Disclaimer: Newsies equal sign Disney's. Plot equal sign Mondie's.


David woke up on Cowboy's floor shirtless, wrapped in a soft, fuzzy blanket, with the most screamingly obnoxious headache of his life. It took him over a minute to figure out where he was, and even then he had no idea why he was on Cowboy's floor, or where his shirt was. Not to mention the fact that, honestly, if there was one thing David hated more than anything else in the world, it was chicken quesadillas; if there were two things he hated, they were chicken quesadillas and headaches.

He shifted and his body screamed in protest. He felt awful. He finally realized that his blue t-shirt was under his head as a pillow, and he struggled to sit up.

"Morning," said a voice from above and behind him. He looked over at the bed, and saw that Cowboy was already awake and sitting on top of the untidy covers, reading.

"…Morning," David responded, amazed at how calm Cowboy sounded when his own mind was freaking out at its inability to remember anything that had happened since evening the night before. "Do you know why I'm in your room?"

Cowboy chuckled, but looked hardly amused. "Do you remember anything about last night, Dave?" He swung his legs to the ground and patted the bed beside him. "It's comfier up here, come join me."

David obeyed, leaving the blanket and shirt on the floor and crawling over to the bed, pulling himself onto it slowly. "Advil? Water?" Cowboy continued, handing the items to David, who gratefully took some of each.

"As far as my mind's concerned, last night didn't happen at all. I don't remember anything." David paused and looked over at Cowboy. "What does that mean?"

"Means you were drunk as hell," Cowboy answered, smirking. "God, Dave, you did some stupid stuff last night."

David suddenly looked alarmed. "What do you mean?"

Cowboy rolled his eyes. "I mean, you let Racetrack get you drunk and then you got on stage at the karaoke contest and sang 'I Can Love You Like That' with a dedication to Mush."

"I didn't!" David exclaimed, sounding horrified. "Oh… oh, Jack, this is no good. No good at all."

"Then you proceeded to follow him and Skittery around all night, asking him to sign your arm in Sharpie for God knows what reason. You also called your sister on my cell phone to tell her that you loved her, and you painted your toenails yellow, while simultaneously painting half the carpet in the living room. You showed us that you can juggle four oranges – or at least you probably could have, if you weren't drunk – and tried to add a watermelon to that trick… which probably wasn't your best idea."

"Oh, my God," David said, pressing a hand to his forehead. "I don't remember any of this."

"I'm not done," Cowboy answered, smiling with more than a little satisfaction, glad that at least now David was feeling remorse for his actions the night before. "You tore off your shirt and proclaimed yourself King of the Underworld. Snipeshooter made you a cape made out of a towel and Racetrack convinced you to try and fly off the back of the couch, which I still don't really understand, because I didn't know that King of the Underworld was a flying superhero. Anyhow. You're probably going to be sore for a few days, because when you jumped, you tried to swan dive. Ooh, I was right; check out that bruise," Cowboy said, sounding awed as he inspected Dave's upper body.

"I'm bruised?" David squeaked.

"Yeah," Cowboy said, pointing at the back of his arm. "Right here."

David yelled and moved his arm away. "Don't touch it!"

"I'm not going to hurt you," Cowboy answered, rolling his eyes. He reached out again and gingerly touched the large purple circle. "Jesus, Dave."

"Does it look bad?" David asked, striving in vain to see it himself.

Cowboy looked up into David's face, meeting the big blue eyes that looked almost overwhelmingly frightened at the idea of a bruise. His curls were mussed, pushed to one side of his head, giving him a lopsided look. And Cowboy found that he couldn't have told David that anything about him looked bad, any more than he could tell him that Mush had decided to sleep over at Skittery's to escape his stalking.

"Anyway," Cowboy said, realizing that he had been staring at David for just a little too long. "You also ate almost all of the pizza that Chocolate ordered for himself, so you should probably apologize for that. He wasn't mad about it, but it was slightly less than nice."

"Oh, God," David said, sounding awed. "So this is why I don't drink." He paused a moment. "Wait a minute. How did I end up on your floor?"

Cowboy laughed, the first real laugh yet that morning. "Uh, your roommate and his boytoy… thing… decided they wanted to try a little… experimenting… with whips last night…. You came stumbling in here at four am whining about the whip hitting you accidentally too many times."

"Damn small room," David muttered. "Did I wake you up?"

"Yeah," Cowboy nodded. "I didn't mind, though."

David smiled up at him. "Thanks, Jack," he said softly. "I'm really glad you're always here for me."

Cowboy leaned over and jostled his leg. "Don't ever forget that I am, Dave." He smiled. "What are R.A.s for?"

David shook his head, meeting Cowboy's eyes with his own vibrant pair. "It's, 'what are friends for?', Jack." He leaned closer and nestled into Cowboy's side, pouting. "My head huuuurts."

Cowboy raised his eyebrows but put an arm around David's bare shoulders, pulling him closer yet. "And so you whine as if you were five whenever you get a little headache?"

David glared, still pouting. "Yes," he said stubbornly. "Especially after I can't even remember last niiiiiight."

Cowboy didn't respond, just gently rubbed the soft skin of David's shoulder, wishing that everything that David did – even when he acted like a spoiled child – wasn't the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life.

There was a soft, short knock on the door, and then it opened a crack. Mush's face appeared in it. "Oh, good, I didn't wake you up," he said cheerfully, opening the door all the way. "I was just coming to see if you knew where Davey was… looks like I found him." Mush suddenly grinned somewhat evilly at the two shirtless boys. "Well, wow. And just how well did you find him, Cowboy? Oh, you guys are so cute, still cuddling the morning after." He laughed.

David flushed and fell to his knees, grabbing his shirt and pulling the wrinkled thing over his head, in his haste putting it on inside out. "We were just talking," he mumbled.

"Uh-huh. Listen, Davey, I think we should have a little talk. …Or at least I thought so after last night, but… I mean, if you're spending the night with Cowboy now… maybe sense has already been talked into you." He laughed his loud, infectious laugh, but neither Cowboy nor David joined in. Both looked politely mortified. "I mean, two out of three nights? Things are getting pretty serious. Next thing you know, you'll be dedicating your lovely rendition of 90s cheese pop songs to him!"

"Shut up, Mush," Cowboy said, standing up.

Mush burst out laughing. "Oh, come on, Cowboy. I'm just messing with you guys. Seriously, though, Davey… just… it was the alcohol talking last night, wasn't it?"

David looked grateful for the easy out. "Of course it was," he answered, a little too quickly. "Race… bet me I wouldn't pretend to be in love with you, and then when I got drunk, it just got… out of hand."

Cowboy nodded. "I bet he would do it. I made ten bucks. Race was pissed."

Mush grinned and hit David's arm in a friendly fashion, though unfortunately it was right where his bruise – now covered by his shirt's sleeve – was. David let out a yelp of pain, and Cowboy moved protectively toward him, placing a gentle hand on his wrist. David looked up at him, and was surprised by the almost fiercely caring look in Cowboy's eyes. Mush looked from one to the other, and wiggled his eyebrows. "Sure you guys were 'just talking'," he said, winking as he headed out the door.

Cowboy took his hand away and turned back to his bed, hiding his flushing cheeks from David's piercing gaze.

Mush stuck his head back in. "And that was a nice little lie, but if you bet that he would do it, then why would you have tried to prevent him from singing karaoke to me last night?" Laughing, he blew Cowboy a kiss when he turned around, opening his mouth to come up with another lie. "Good try, Cowboy." Mush disappeared, closing the door behind him.

Cowboy turned back around, running his fingers through his hair, trying to remember the steps to breathe. He could sense David coming up behind him, and it made the steps even harder to remember. 1. Open mouth. 2. Inhale. 3. …Something.

"You tried to stop me from singing to him?" David asked, laying a hesitant hand on Cowboy's bare shoulder.

Cowboy smiled sadly to the wall. "Yeah. Yeah, Dave, I did."

"To save me from looking like an idiot?"

"Yeah." Cowboy swallowed. "Too bad it didn't work," he attempted to joke, turning and raising an eyebrow at David.

David gave an amused smirk, but it was short-lived and, Cowboy had a sneaking suspicion, as much for show as his own joke was. "That was really nice of you. Even if it didn't work."

Cowboy smiled. "No problem, Dave. I mean, we are friends."

David moved closer to Cowboy and wrapped his arms around him, his fingers pressing into bare skin. Cowboy closed his eyes as he hugged David back, and an expression of pain crossed his face as he leaned his head down, his chin resting on David's shoulder. "Thanks, Jack," David said lightly into his neck. His hands began to write curlicues and circles on Cowboy's smooth skin, and he smiled when Cowboy embraced him tighter in response.

Cowboy knew the words could spill out easily, or that he could just make some small gesture – a kiss to end all kisses, perhaps – and all of the pain that he was feeling at that moment would be alleviated at once. David could accept or reject him, and it would be over either way. But that 50/50 chance of rejection made him seize up.

So Cowboy didn't say the words, or press his lips to David's perfect neck, or steal the kiss to end all kisses. He let go instead and stepped out of the hug, and David smiled a goodbye before heading out the door, hitting the doorframe three times as he passed it, as if to tap the three syllables of "goodbye, Jack."

Or, Cowboy's imagination realized, it could be three different syllables altogether: the ones that he himself silently called to David's back.

I love you.


Bumlets was pretending to do homework while lying on his futon under his lofted bed, holding up his book dutifully but letting his mind wander to the night before. He still couldn't believe it. Swifty with anyone but himself was hard enough, but Swifty and Dutchy and Specs? How long had his best friend been hiding this from him? How had he never known? How had he never guessed?

His naïve stupidity had hit him all at once. He felt robbed, as if in one dastardly move, Swifty had stolen all of his innocence. Just yesterday he had been anticipating telling Swifty that he loved him, and that he had been in love with him since before they had even become friends. He had had it all planned out – after the karaoke competition, which they would undoubtedly win (at least that part had gone as planned), he would invite Swifty back to his room for celebratory drinks, and they would fall onto the futon cuddling and talking like they had so many times before, only this time he would lean over and kiss him. Not just the kisses on the cheek that they had been giving each other since a week after they met, but a full, perfect kiss, and then he would pull away and tell Swifty about how he had wanted to do that for a year and a half, and then it would be up to Swifty to tell him to get lost or to say that maybe—just maybe, somewhere deep inside—he felt the same way.

And now, Bumlets had no chance of that happening.

Sighing, he finally threw his book to the foot of the futon and crawled off it. Chocolate wasn't in the room, thankfully, and so he gave no second thought to crossing to their closet, opening it, and leaning against the doorframe, just staring at the inside of the thin wooden door. The collage of pictures of himself and Swifty taped there, in thoughtful emulation of Queer as Folk's homage to Michael in Ted's closet, was Chocolate's favorite thing to make fun of Bumlets for, so he had taken to staring at it only when Chocolate wasn't in the room. He didn't know how long he stood there, feeling tears well up and blinking them away before they could fall, but when the bedroom door suddenly opened, he sprang into action immediately. He slammed the closet shut, making Swifty, who was walking in casually, jump.

"Hey," he said cheerfully. "Just wanted to come congratulate us for being awesome last night." He elbowed Bumlets' ribs. "We totally kicked ass." He winked. "And you were really hot in drag, too. If I were into chicks, I so would've been all over you."

Bumlets forced a smile. "Guess we should just be glad you aren't into chicks then, huh?"

Swifty stared at him. "You okay? What's up?" Taking Bumlets' hand, he led him back to the futon and pushed him down onto it, sitting next to him and cuddling into his side. "Talk to me, Bummy," he said, and Bumlets had to smile at the ridiculous nickname. It was nearly too vomit inducing, and that was what Swifty liked about it.

"I just… I didn't know that you and Dutchy and Specs…" Unable to finish the thought, he just shrugged.

"…Oh." Swifty fell silent for a minute. "Well. Um. It just started… well, in like September."

Bumlets closed his eyes. "It's March, Swifty."

"Yeah, I know." Swifty looked up at him. "I'm sorry, Bumlets. I didn't know how to tell you. You just… sometimes you just seem so pure, ya know? I didn't want to like… freak you out or anything."

Bumlets looked forward, not falling into the trap of looking into Swifty's dark eyes. "I'd rather you had told me than left me to be shocked along with the rest of the world at a damn karaoke competition," he answered testily.

Swifty's arms snaked across Bumlets' chest, holding him tightly. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Really, Bumlets. You're my best friend. I should have told you, you're right. I just… well, how do you bring up something like that?"

"You say, 'Hey, did you know that I'm screwing not just one of my roommates, but both of them?'" Bumlets was unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone. "It's not that hard, Swifty."

"…Something else is wrong, isn't it?" Swifty asked. "Something happen to you last night?"

Bumlets glared across the room at Chocolate's empty bed. "No, the only thing that happened last night was that my best friend felt the need to unveil in public that he's a whore, that's all."

"What!" Swifty cried. "I am not a whore."

"Yes, you are!" Bumlets yelled back. "Even Race and Spot, who are well known as whores, stick to one other person!"

"That's what you think," Swifty answered, his eyes burning angrily. "Have you ever asked them?"

Bumlets stared at him. "No."

"Exactly." Swifty sighed. "Bumlets, you're just so… innocent." He pushed himself to his feet. "No one tells you anything because you can't handle it."

Bumlets pulled away inside himself. "If that's true, then… you guys aren't my friends at all." He stared up at the ceiling, telling his tears that if they fell right now in front of Swifty, he would never be able to live with himself. They hardly listened to him.

Swifty crumbled when he saw the first tear falling from Bumlets' eye. "Oh, God, don't cry," he begged. "Bumlets, I'm sorry. I'll tell you about all threesomes and orgies and every sexual escapade I ever go on ever from now on, I swear…"

Bumlets wiped at his tears furiously. "No! Don't! Don't you get that that's the last thing I want to hear?"

Swifty closed his eyes, frustrated. "So you get mad at me when I don't tell you things, but you threaten me when I offer to tell you things. What the fuck do you want from me?"

The words flew out before Bumlets could stop them. "I want you to fall in love with me!" Horrified, he clapped a hand to his mouth.

"You… what?" Swifty asked, looking confused for the first time since Bumlets had known him.

"Forget it," Bumlets said gruffly, jumping to his feet and walking quickly toward the door.

Swifty reached out and caught his arm, and stared intensely into his face, though Bumlets looked up at the ceiling again and refused to meet his gaze. "What do you mean by you want me to fall in love with you?" he demanded.

"Never mind," Bumlets answered, sounding pained. "Seriously, Swifty. Don't… just forget I said it. Please."

Swifty still peered into his face, and finally Bumlets caved in and stared back, trying to do so defiantly. Swifty's face melted slightly, its hardness softening. "Oh, Bumlets," he said, his voice small. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Bumlets raised his eyebrows. "How do you bring up something like that?" he said back, and Swifty cringed visibly at the recycled words. He let go of Bumlets' arm and headed back to the futon, curling up on it and holding his head with his hands. Bumlets, unsure of whether to flee or go sit down too, instead stood where he was, awkwardly.

"We really suck as best friends, don't we?" Swifty finally asked, laughing a little. "Do we actually know anything about each other?"

Bumlets, reassured by the soft tone of Swifty's voice, crossed to the futon and sat in front of it, leaning back against it. "Yes, we do," he answered quietly. "I know that you were valedictorian in high school, have a little sister named Carol, love chocolate chip cookies above everything else in the world, have the coldest feet ever even when you're wearing socks, and that you treat me the best out of anyone I've known in my life."

Swifty smiled, tilting his head as he leaned down and massaged Bumlets' shoulders. "And I know that you were valedictorian too, that you have an unhealthy obsession with David Bowie, are so painfully shy that you never had a best friend until we became close last year, and only become comfortable with people after knowing them for at least a month." He stopped kneading Bumlets' muscles and instead wrapped his arms around Bumlets' chest. "And I know that you're the most caring person in the universe." He leaned down and kissed Bumlets' cheek. "I do love you, Bumlets."

Bumlets turned his head and kissed Swifty's arm, draped around his neck. "But… I don't just love you as my best friend, Swifty. I love you. Honestly love you."

Swifty crawled off the futon to the floor and sat on Bumlets' lap, straddling him. "Why me?" he asked softly. "I'm not good enough for that, Bummy. I'm not good enough for you."

Bumlets stared into his intense eyes. He licked his lips nervously. "You are, Swifty. Oh, you don't even know how much you are."

Swifty leaned forward hesitantly, his eyes locked on Bumlets'. He stopped, as if uncertain, an inch from Bumlets' face. Bumlets, breathing darkly, moved forward the rest of the way, and their lips met. Hesitant, at first. Uncertain, they pulled away.

But they didn't even have time to say anything before their lips met again. And this time, uncertainty was gone.


"Woo!" Pie Eater laid his last card on the toppling stack. "I win!"

Racetrack glared at him. "No fair, you usually suck at Uno!" He glowered at Snipeshooter, who had laid down the previous card before Pie Eater's victory. "Why'd you change the color to green, asshole?"

Snipeshooter pouted. "Because it was the only nine I had, and I didn't have any yellows!"

"You have like fifty cards in your hand! How were none of them yellow?" Racetrack shouted angrily, throwing his last two cards down. "I refuse to play anymore with cheaters." He got up and stalked out of the kitchen.

"Just because you lost doesn't mean everyone else is cheating!" Pie Eater yelled after him, then he turned and shrugged and, beaming, began picking up the cards. "First time I've ever beaten Race at cards!"

Snipeshooter nodded as he put down his two full handfuls of cards. "Of course, it is a game for like third graders, since you wouldn't play any real games like poker or nothing," he answered.

Pie Eater merely stared at him. "You know, you're the one with like three million cards left, not me." Grabbing his three decks of Uno cards, he left the kitchen as well.

Chocolate was reclining backwards in a chair, leaning it precariously back against the wall, nibbling on a piece of bread. He had been the sole spectator/cheerleader for the card game. Now he looked intently at Snipeshooter, tilting his head. "Ya know, it's kinda weird how everyone seems to get annoyed by you, and yet you were voted into this frat." He ate the top crust thoughtfully. "Did you hide your annoyingness while you were a pledge? Because I don't remember you being like this last semester."

Snipeshooter grinned. "Sure did!" He beamed. "Plus I'm Cowboy's second cousin once removed or something, so he would've been in tons of trouble if he didn't let me in."

"Oh… well, then. I think on that note, it's time for me to go… make fun of my roommate or something."

"Can I come along?" Snipeshooter chirped, hopping to his feet.

Chocolate eyed him. "Don't you have your own roommate to go make fun of somewhere?"

Snipeshooter shook his head. "He's mean. He's taken to kicking me every time I talk to him."

"That sucks," Chocolate said, though in his mind he thought this was a pretty suitable punishment for Snipeshooter opening his mouth. He headed out of the kitchen into the living room, hoping Snipeshooter would stay behind. The younger boy did not quite seem to catch the hint and followed close on his heels.

Luckily, he did not need to worry about trying to lose Snipeshooter, for as they crossed the living room, they were suddenly halted by a grinning, shirtless Cowboy who leaped halfway down the stairs in one solid jump and stood, beaming, in front of them.

Chocolate stared at him for a moment, then his mouth dropped open. "Is it—" he started to ask.

"Squirrel Hunt!" Cowboy screamed back, throwing back his head, grabbing his cowboy hat off his head and swinging it around his head as he shouted a "yee-haw!" for good measure.

Snipeshooter's eyes went as wide as plates. "My first Squirrel Hunt?" he gaped.

Chocolate was pulling off his shirt, then he ran up the stairs past Cowboy. "Squirrel Hunt!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. From various bedrooms, the call was returned to him: "Squirrel Hunt!" was soon echoing throughout the small frat house, bouncing from room to room and clanging out the windows. Chocolate charged into his room to find Bumlets already shirtless, and struggling with a safety pin, a towel, and the back of his jeans. He looked up at Chocolate.

"Help me!" he said, nearly bouncing in excitement. "Will you pin on my tail?"

Chocolate did as was requested, pinning Bumlets' sea foam green towel to the middle of the ass of his jeans. He then turned around after grabbing his own cream-colored towel, and Bumlets pinned his "tail" on him as well. Then the two of them ran out of their room, sliding into Mush and Pie Eater, who were just emerging from their room across the hall, equally shirtless. Mush had a cerulean tail, obviously a high-quality terrycloth towel, and Pie Eater's was yellow with Spongebob Squarepants' face in the middle of it.

The boys who weren't already downstairs screeching and crowing at the top of their lungs quickly ran down the stairs to join the group that was. When Cowboy was assured that every member of the frat (including Boots and Grouch, who he had called shortly after deciding upon the Squirrel Hunt) had gathered, he held up a plastic headband. Immediately the group of boys fell silent, except Snipeshooter, who let out an excited squeak. Snoddy stepped on his foot, though, and he grew quiet too.

"In honor of the first beautiful day of spring," Cowboy said in a solemn voice, "And in the tradition of twenty-seven years of Lambda brothers before us… I proclaim that today be the Squirrel Hunt of 2005." He grabbed his cowboy hat and pushed it backwards off his head, letting it fall down his back, the string catching around his throat. Then he took the cheap plastic headband, which had two furry "squirrel's ears" attached to it, and put it on his head. "Squirrel Hunt!"

The battle cry was repeated, and Cowboy took off, sprinting out the front door into the early spring sunshine. The rest of the boys screamed at the good fortune of their favorite day finally arriving and took off after him.

With towel tails flapping in the breeze and goosebumps rising all over their bare flesh from the waist up, the members of Lambda Delta Lambda made quite a spectacle of themselves as they ran through campus in a single file line, screaming "Squirrel Hunt!" about every two seconds. Every time Cowboy would see a squirrel off the path, he would run toward it, following it until he spotted a different one, or the one in question ran up a tree. The only rules of Squirrel Hunt were that nobody could climb a tree or get out of the single-file line, and the president (with mandatory headband firmly in place) could lead the Squirrel Hunt as long as he wanted to. Crutchy's oldest brother held the record for the longest Squirrel Hunt, as he had kept the fraternity at the exhausting, yet exhilarating, display through an entire night – eight hours in all.

The rest of the students around campus pointed and laughed. The Lambda Squirrel Hunt was known statewide as the best show of spring spirit. Brothers had been known to pledge Lambda merely for the Squirrel Hunt. It came once a year, and as people already out on campus began to realize what was going on, they started calling their friends to make sure nobody missed seeing it happen. After five minutes of Squirrel Hunting, lawn chairs were already set out in front of dorms, and people sat around eating popcorn and waiting for the Squirrel Hunters to run past them and make spring start.

Which they did. Loudly. Grinning, they kept up their rate of shouting "Squirrel Hunt!" as they tried hard to keep their breath. After an hour and a half, Dutchy – who, as a senior who wasn't president, had elected himself to be the end of the group, suddenly shouted, "Tail grab!" and reached forward, grabbing Swifty's towel, which was bouncing just in front of him. Swifty reached forward to grab Bumlets', and Bumlets grabbed Crutchy's, and so it went on up to Mush grabbing Cowboy's. Now a linked chain, the boys all began running in step, to make sure they didn't kill each other by tripping over each other's feet. Dutchy started the call. "Left, Squirrel Hunt, right! Left, Squirrel Hunt, right!" Falling into the pace easily, the boys all ran together, though it took Snipeshooter a little bit to figure out that just because neither "right" nor "left" was said during the words "Squirrel Hunt," he still had to move first the right leg on "squirrel" and then the left on "hunt."

Cowboy couldn't have picked a more beautiful day. The snow had all melted, and the sun was beating down happily. The boys were cheered on by classmates every time they rounded a new corner, or ran past another building – most of which structures had students hanging out of windows or lined up in front. As was customary for the Squirrel Hunt, no actual squirrels were caught, and the boys slowed to a nearly crawling pace by the time Cowboy finally led them back to their house and took off the headband. The Squirrel Hunt had lasted four hours and thirty-eight minutes, according to David and his stopwatch.

The boys crowded into the kitchen, grabbing water bottles and any item of food they could reach. They then sprawled around the living room, joking and laughing and grabbing each other's towels. They spent half an hour just recovering, with only members of the frat in the room, enjoying the company of just their fellow brothers. Squirrel Hunt Day was one like no other; it was the day that belonged exclusively to them. Mush looked around the room and had to laugh at the sight of so many shirtless boys with towels pinned to their asses. Squirrel Hunt day didn't make sense to him, but he loved his brothers for doing it.

Seeing all of his brothers and loving their ridiculousness, he nonetheless missed a certain person he was already getting used to be being around. Sidling toward the stairs while Dutchy and Specs told a two-person, well-rehearsed, oft-told joke – a routine they had debuted while freshmen, he smiled as he slipped inconspicuously away. He was well aware of his dependency, but he just felt the need to hear from Skittery. Sure enough, his AIM icon was jumping off its place on the dock on his computer screen. The message from Skittery read, 'You were the hottest shirtless Squirrel Hunter of them all, what with that big fuzzy blue tail and all… have fun with your brothers tonight, and give me a call tomorrow. You're far too adorable for words. And no one has ever made me say that before, so feel special."

An explosion of laughter from downstairs made Mush turn to look at the door. Smiling, he closed the AIM window and headed back downstairs.

His Squirrelly brothers were waiting. And Skittery would still be here tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. It was a comforting thought. And he liked that he didn't have to think twice about bouncing back down the stairs to indulge in Squirrel Hunting behavior for a few more hours.

He looked around when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Everyone had decided to sprawl across the living room floor, most lying on top of some people and under others. Cowboy's head was lying on Chocolate's legs, and David's curls were spread unceremoniously across Cowboy's chest, while Pie Eater and Snoddy lay side-by-side with their heads resting on David's arm. The boys snaked in this manner all across the room, comfortable and relaxed. They were all joking and laughing and bringing up old memories of frat days gone by. Snipeshooter, who didn't have very many frat memories yet, kept trying to remind them of funny things that had happened at the lip synching concert.

"Remember when Bumlets was in drag and actually looked like a real girl?"

"Shut up," Bumlets warned. Swifty laughed and tousled his hair. Bumlets grinned up at him bashfully.

"And remember when Swifty kissed Dutchy and Specs?" Snipeshooter continued. Swifty's hand froze mid-tousle.

"Shut up," he said.

"And remember when David got up—"

This time, everyone else, who had been rather happy to forget the memory of David singing All 4 One, all shouted in unison, "Shut up!"

"Geez," Snipeshooter grumbled. "It's not fair, just cuz I'm young—"

Suddenly the front door slammed open. Everyone jumped, then laughed at themselves. Mush, who had just cuddled between David and Bumlets, called out, "Cowboy, aren't you supposed to get that damn door… fixed…" He trailed off as he raised his head to see who was standing in the open door. "Oh, God."

Kid Blink smiled sarcastically at him. "No, but close." He had his arms crossed heavily over his chest, and his eye was glaring to the point of such extremity that it seemed a mere slit. "Cowboy. My man." He stepped over boys until reaching the president. Shoving David out of the way, he sat down on Cowboy's stomach. "Tell me, if you would be so kind, what my relationship to this frat is."

Cowboy stared at him, then rolled his eyes. "Social member," he answered, in a voice meant for six-year olds. "You're our one and only social member, Blink. Now get off me—"

"Exactly," Kid Blink said, raising his voice to drown out Cowboy and remaining sitting right where he was. "The part of that title that I'm concerned with happens to be the 'member' part. Because, you see, as a member of this frat, I am supposed to be called for functions. Now, I can deal with not being allowed to karaoke. I hate singing anyway."

"No, you don't," Snipeshooter answered. "You—" Snoddy elbowed him in the stomach to make him be quiet.

Kid Blink ignored him. "But not inviting me to Squirrel Hunt?" He looked disgruntled. "Jesus, Cowboy. That's fucking cold."

"I just thought… you know. You and Mush," Cowboy said. "I thought it'd be weird."

"Breaking up with Mush does not mean that I broke up with the whole damn frat!" Kid Blink shouted back. "Goddamn!" He stood up off of Cowboy, a disgruntled frown covering his face. "You're such a jackass." Glaring around at everyone, he shook his head. "I don't care. I want out of this frat. You guys are all just… assholes. I hate all of you."

Mush untangled himself from Bumlets and David and stood up. "Logan, we gotta go talk."

Kid Blink stared at him. "Why the fuck would I want to talk with you?"

"Come on," Mush said, heaving a great sigh. "Let's go for a walk."

Without another word, Mush broke up the Squirrel Hunt party by taking Kid Blink by the arm and leading him out the front door. The rest of the brothers wandered upstairs and drifted apart into separate rooms. It was the first Squirrel Hunt Day that had not ended a complete (and drunken) success.

Mush and Kid Blink walked together in silence for five whole minutes, each too upset to speak to the other. "I hate this," Mush finally burst out.

"Hate what." Kid Blink wouldn't even give him the satisfaction of making him ask a question, so he instead made his statement a fact.

Mush looked over and sighed. "I hate you hating me, Logan."

"Yeah. Well. Maybe you shouldn't have slept with fucking Skittery then," Kid Blink snapped back. "How could I do anything but hate you, Micah?"

Mush fell back into silence, but a much shorter one. He tried to bite back a smile, but it shone through anyway. "It's nice hearing you call me Micah again."

"What, he doesn't call you Micah?" Kid Blink sneered back.

Mush stopped and sat down on a bench along the main path through campus. Kid Blink had no choice but to sit next to him. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Logan. Really, I am. But you know as well as I do that we were just holding on for no reason other than… familiarity."

Kid Blink shook his head violently. "That isn't true, Micah. It isn't and you goddamn know it."

Mush turned and stared at him. "Oh, but Logan, it's completely true. We held on to each other because we were too scared of what would happen if we broke up. We needed each other in high school. I don't deny that, and I don't deny the wonderful impact you had on my life. High school without you would have been absolute hell. Whatever those homophobic pricks did to us would have been five times worse had you not been there to comfort me afterwards. It was okay, because we had someone else to hold our hand and we felt safe. And we've always been each other's safety nets. When we came to college and decided we were going to be out on campus, we needed each other then too, to make ourselves comfortable. But now we can be comfortable without each other. Everyone in the frat accepts us, and lots of people on campus do too." Mush shrugged. "We just aren't martyrs to even ourselves anymore, Logan. We don't need each other, because there are others here who understand us too. We aren't the only two anymore. And we owe it to ourselves not to just… hold on for the sake of holding on." Kid Blink seemed to be calming down as he listened to Mush talk. "I love what we had together, Logan. I look back with nothing but… happiness and good memories and all that shit." A brief smile appeared on Kid Blink's face. "But honestly, I think of you like… my older brother. My protector. The one who beats up the bullies on the playground for me." He looked over at Kid Blink. "And, seriously, it's just not hot to fuck your brother."

Kid Blink looked back at him. "But I miss you," he said softly.

Mush leaned over and hugged him, kissing his cheek. "I bet you don't miss my smelly feet," he countered.

Kid Blink laughed. "No. No, that I don't miss. Or your annoying habit of singing Elton John songs first thing when you wake up on weekday mornings while jumping on your bed. While I'm trying to sleep in it."

Mush laughed. "Bet you don't miss my Queer Eye obsession. Or my fascination with Goldfish crackers. Or my collection of Japanese gay porn."

"Actually, I miss that porn most of all," Kid Blink answered, grinning. He shrugged a little. "Micah, doesn't it mean … a lot to you that I know all of these things about you? I mean, Skittery doesn't know all these things, does he? Doesn't that say something about who you should be with?"

Mush let him out of the hug and smiled at him. "No, he doesn't know most of those things about me. But he will." Kid Blink nodded, resigned. "…I do miss you, though. And I wish we could still be friends and talk and hang out and stuff."

"I do too," Kid Blink answered. "Just not yet. I need time… you know. We've been through a lot together."

Mush nodded, pulling him close again. "I know," he answered. "But now you've gotta let me and Skittery get through a lot together."

Kid Blink stared at him for a long minute, than nodded. "I know. And I'm really gonna try, from now on. Micah Meyers, I will force myself to get over you."

"Wahoo!" Mush shouted back, standing up on the bench and pulling Kid Blink up with him. "…Thanks, Kid."

Kid Blink smiled back. "You're welcome… Mush."


Shoutouts!

Omni: Yes, all mentions of gratuitous Racetrack in leather are written STRICTLY for you, darling. I adore you so! And coherency is WAY overrated. :D

Charlie Bird: Yes. Supercheesetastic!Skush is cute, and tux!pieddy is adorable. And bondage!sprace just makes me laugh far too much. Thanks for that lovely seal of approval, I'll keep it in my back pocket always. Or… something. Yes.

Flashing lights aka studentnumber24601: Well. A "grumble" and a caps lock yelling are far less than I expect for this story from you, so … I'll take it! Aha. Thanks for still reading dear, even though you hate the story. Sigh.

Frogger No Baka: Oh darling, you are good. And I am no good, so even if you wrote like a five year old on crack you'd be better than me aha. And I'm glad psycho is good. Er. Thanks: Haha j/j, love you DEARLY.

Strawberri Shake: Ooh, how much are you willing to pay? ;) BWAHA I love Swisputchy. Even if Swifty has stopped cooperating. Still. And I adore Javid fluff. For someone so smart, he doesn't catch on to … anything. Skush is the best! But stalking is not. Bad Blink. Luckily it all is working out. Ish. :D

Stage: Yay! He's back! And yes, yay hardcore for Meat Loaf! Only the best power balladeer in the entire WORLD. And there is Sputchy! Just… small doses. O.o

Queen Kez the Wicked: Again, why are you the only person who also picks up on my favorite parts of chapters? You're the only one to comment on the faux-sexual language between Pie Eater and Snoddy. When it was done so intentionally on my part. It makes me sad. And I am anything BUT unpredictable. Aha!

Buttons14: I'm scared of bugs. Not as much as Pie is, but I still am rather afraid of bugs. But only bugs inside. Bugs outside are okay, because that's where they belong. Yes. Congrats for getting through the famine, the longest famine I ever did was 24 hours and that was hell in a hand basket. Hee, I kinda went on an updating spree, but now break's over so it takes much longer to churn out chapters. So you'll have plenty of time. :D

Sita-Chan: I LOVE YOUUU AND YOU ARE THE BEST. And I –like- usher!crutchy. He makes me giggle insanely.


AN: This chapter (however belated) is for the birthday of SITA MISS WONDERFUL GODDESS OF THE WORLD. I adore her sooooooo much! Happy birthday, darling!