K is for Kiss

"Ah, come on. It...it's pandering, it's stupid!"

"I think it's quite lovely," said Timmy, raising a hand to the large screen above the field. The camera had started scanning the crowd for couples who smiled and squealed and locked lips for the amusement of screaming viewers. "If not a bit saccharin."

"Barf central. Ahh, god, they have to add the little flickering hearts in the corner."

"Bitter at the fact that you're here with me instead of a woman? Wishing perhaps anybody would be willing to kiss you in front of so many witnesses?"

"And they zoom in right at the point of impact, like we can't see that they're...wait...wait, is that two chicks...?! Duuuude..."

Timmy slapped a knee in frustration. "You're unbelievable."

"Why do I bring you to these games?" Russell leaned back, crossing his arms. "Nag, nag, nag."

"Better question. Why do I pay for the tickets?"

"You sprung for season passes!"

"You insisted I buy the passes, you garnished my wages!"

Russell's demeanor shifted all at once, turning casually Timmy's direction. "You feeling hot dogs? I could really go for hot dogs."

"No, I don't want any hot do-" Timmy felt a tap land on his shoulder from a neighboring seat. He looked to the woman sitting there, who pointed past him; and his eyes fell upon where she was pointing. He fell full of shock and terror. "Oh. Oh...no..."

"Well, we could get pretzels instead, or popcorn...you like Cracker Jack, yeah?"

Timmy grasped Russell's head, forcing his eyes in the direction of the Kiss Cam. And there were both of their faces, plain as day, locked stunned upon the screen. What were they doing up there? How could they possibly be there?

The neighbor who had tapped Timmy moments before now smacked him in the back, urging excitedly, "Kiss!"

"Oh...no," spoke Timmy. "There's been a mistake, we're not-"

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" The chant of several neighboring voices, building to a crescendo.

Timmy found, then, his hands were still glued to Russell's head. Their eyes pulled from the screen, locking together, imploring one another for answers. And Timmy pulled his hands from Russell, wiping them off on his shirt. It felt as if the last few seconds had lasted several minutes, and still the camera sought their embrace. Seriously?! Just move on, already!

Well, Timmy assured himself, they could wait this out, the cameraman would realize his mistake and move off of them at any moment, it would all be over soon enough, and-

That's when it happened. Russell's lips fell flush upon Timmy's cheek, quickly, warm and soft and without a touch more warning, and then it was all over. Timmy looked first to the screen, having moved past them. Then, slowly, cautiously, his eyes shifted towards his boss, now having sunk back into his seat, staring straight forward with very large eyes, body frozen in place.

A small voice from somewhere in the crowd assured the men: "That was weak," and Timmy, finding the proclamation somehow quite contrary to reality, could not quite bring himself to pull his gaze from Russell. Then another voice somewhere, not to be outdone: "Gay...!"

At this, Russell faltered in his stoic stance, clearing his throat, glancing briefly towards Timmy. "Wanted to get rid of the camera, huh?"

"Well, yes...but..."

"Gave 'em what they wanted." Several more seconds of uncomfortable eye contact was broken by the roar of a crowd. Distractions. Hm, what? What had happened? "Sure you don't want a hot dog?"

Timmy nodded slowly. "Yes, I...hot dog. Okay."