Porn (193 words)
Of all the things David had been expecting when he jumped into what passed as Griffin's living room, this wasn't it. The obscene noises from the two men fornicating on the screen drew David's attention first. Right after that was the leather jacket to the face, thrown by Griffin.
Who was currently sitting on the couch.
Hurriedly zipping his pants.
Not to mention he was swearing at David with language that could make a trucker blush, at least from what he could recognize. Some seemed to be in Spanish and Chinese. David blinked.
"Um, bad time?" Something on the screen caught David's eye, mostly because he was trying to look anywhere but at his friend. "Is that a goat? Why is there a goat?" Griffin's scowl could have melted glass.
"Fuckin' right it's a bad time, and it's a taxidermied sheep and its décor, not a participant! Now GET OUT!" David heeded the command and turned to jump away, but before he did, he couldn't resist a parting shot over his shoulder.
"Hey Griffin are all gay men that flexible?" David jumped just in time to miss the remote aimed at his head.
Quarantine (260 words)
When David hadn't been around to harass him for a few days, Griffin decided it was time to check on him. Not out of concern or anything, nothing like that, naturally. It just seemed odd somehow, to not have all six foot and then some of smarmy American lurking about the lair. Arriving in David's pad, it was clear that something was up. There were dishes stacked in the sink, half a pot of chicken soup congealing on the stove and a massacred box of Kleenex in the living room. Taking the hint, Griffin checked the bedroom. Under about eighty blankets and snuffling miserably was David, letting out the occasional feeble cough and making generally unhappy noises.
"What's this then, H1N1? Swine flu? Ebola? Do you need a quarantine?" David spluttered weakly from inside his cocoon.
"F'ck off Griff, let me die in peace." A hacking cough seemed to lend credence to the statement, and without a word Griffin obeyed. David dozed fitfully for a time after his departure, until the noise of movement next to his bed roused him. Blearily opening an eye, he watched mystified as Griffin set down first a cup of orange juice, then a bowl of soup. Griffin walked out of the room, and returned a moment later with a bottle of water and a package of cold medication. David felt oddly touched by Griffin's concern.
"Griffin, you didn't have to…" the man in question cut him off.
"Just don't expect me to feed you too." Griffin grumbled while he helped his friend sit up.
Reason (117 words)
Another fight again today and Griffin hated it when they fought, although he never let it show. Nothing felt quite the same anymore, not since David had tromped into Griffin's life and set up shop like he belonged there. Griffin supposed he did, after a fashion, brother in arms and all that jazz. But as good of a team as they made, sometimes just sometimes, mostly when they argued, Griffin wished be could make David understand his reasons for fighting, for killing, for everything. But Griffin didn't know how to say any of it, how to bare his soul and ask to be understood.
Griffin didn't even know himself when David became the biggest reason of all.