Sam laughed as he slung an arm over Brady's shoulders. He wouldn't be legal drinking age for a year and a half, but this was college, so no one cared. They stumbled down the sidewalk, holding onto each other, neither of them would have been able to find the way home on his own. At least this way, if they got turned around, they weren't alone.
They tripped and laughed through the front door of the little off-campus house. Both had lived in the dorms during freshman year, but over the summer they decided to look for someplace with a little more freedom. Their roommates were almost never around, so they usually had the place to themselves. They could blast music till all hours, have nerf gun wars, or microwave stale pizza for breakfast every day. Sometimes it was still hard for Sam to believe.
Now Sam felt himself tumbling, so he aimed them for for the couch. Brady landed first with an "oomph" with Sam crashing on top of him. They tried to untangle, but they were giggling too much to focus. Sam was laughing so hard that his eyes began to water. Finally they gave up. Brady was half-sprawled across Sam's chest, with one arm pinned in the couch cushions. One of Sam's legs was stuck between the couch and the coffee table, but he couldn't figure out how to free himself. "Damn," Brady said, his voice muffled against Sam's hoodie. The sound just got Sam giggling again.
When they finally sorted themselves out, Brady slapped Sam on the arm. "I told you we'd have a good time, didn't I? Can't let my best friend stay home like a hermit all the time"
"Whatever," Sam grinned. He tossed his head, trying to get his hair out of his eyes. "Tell me that tomorrow when you're hungover."
"I'm not gonna be hungover, loser, I'm not even drunk!" Brady spread out his arms as if to prove his point. He only wobbled a little.
Sam scooted down into the couch with a comfortable sigh. "I didn't have a bad time," he admitted.
"You're lucky I'm here," Brady told him.
"I am," Sam agreed, feeling more sentimental than usual. "I might even miss you over break."
Brady pretended to pout. "Of course you will. It's gonna be boring as hell staying here alone. Should I even bother to ask again if you'll come with me?"
Sam avoided his gaze. "Nah. I can get a head start on next semester. Thanks anyway."
Brady suddenly grew solemn. "Any chance you'll see your family?"
Of course Sam didn't answer.
"Hey, sorry I asked, man. Forget it." He was literally, physically, falling all over Sam to apologize. "Maybe I am a little drunk. Please don't get all quiet and broody." Sam couldn't help but crack a smile. "That's more like it," Brady approved, patting Sam on the cheek.
"I am glad you're here for me," Sam conceded. He was a little surprised when Brady closed the distance and pressed their lips together. The kiss was wet, and a bit awkward, but Sam found himself kissing back.
Brady pulled away, looking down fearfully at Sam, waiting to be punched. Instead, Sam grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him down for another sloppy kiss. It tasted like beer and soda. Before Sam's brain could catch up, Brady was moving down, pushing up Sam's shirt to get to his stomach. Sam's fingers brushed through Brady's short hair. He had half a thought of grabbing him by the hair to stop him, or at least slow him, but instead he tipped his head back and enjoyed the sensation.
This was Brady, the mouth on his bare skin, this was his best friend, hot breath traveling further down, this was his roommate Brady, hands tugging at jeans, this was Brady for God's sake! Sam couldn't bring himself to stop this, didn't need to stop, he actually wanted this to happen, it was happening, he needed it to keep happening. He heard himself whispering encouragement, nonsensical half-drunken praise.
When Brady's tongue made contact with Sam's dick, that's when his brain finally came into focus. This was Brady. His mouth was so warm, and his lips were so soft as they closed around him and sucked. Sam couldn't help bucking up towards him. Brady came up with a cough and an apology. "I have no idea what I'm doing here, man."
Sam was already dragging him up for another kiss. He unbuttoned Brady's jeans as their tongues pressed together, fingers grasping with urgency. Finally, somehow, he freed Brady's erection and they found each other, began sliding against each other, desperate and a little clumsy. Sam was already too far gone, and knowing this was his best friend, his Brady, made the pleasure that much greater. He came with a shout, and Brady was quick to follow, until they were sticky with their combined mess.
Brady collapsed on Sam's chest, still breathing hard. Neither one dared to speak for a few long minutes. Finally Sam pressed a kiss to the top of Brady's head. "I'm really gonna miss you over break," he said, his voice raspy.
They managed to stumble to the tiny bathroom and help each other clean up, then fell asleep on Sam's mattress in just their t-shirts and boxers. When Sam woke up, Brady was already gone. He must have wanted an early start, Sam guessed, since he had a long drive to his parents' house. Maybe this would be better, Sam told himself; they would each have some time to think, and they could figure things out once Brady got back.
He picked up his phone to send a quick text. He deleted the first few tries, and finally decided on something simple, something safe. "Happy Thanksgiving."