Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over Newsies; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.
Warning:Updates may (and probably will be) slow.
This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.
Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough
Summary of Chapter 14:
-Bam claims Hunter gets off on Spot yelling at him
-Jack spends the night at Swifty's house
-Skittery, Itey, Bumlets, and Dutchy go to David's house
-Dutchy asks Bumlets to come to Specs house with him. Bumlets agrees.
-Dutchy asks Bumlets to pretend to be his boyfriend so Specs will become jealous. Bumlets refuses.
Getting Back Together Again
XV
Cracked Nuts
"Well hey, baby," a girl in a towel cooed at Spot as soon as she stepped out of the shower and saw him.
"Am I supposed to know who you are?" Spot asked nonchalantly. "Though I can't say I'm not enjoying just looking," he continued, clearly roaming his eyes all over her body without shame.
"Oh shit, sorry Boss," Hunter apologized as soon as he ran into the room, "She's with me. We're just starting the end of our date, if you know what I mean."
The girl smiled at him flirtatiously, "Not that we wouldn't mind a little more company, Cutie.
"Oh, no," Hunter argued immediately, "We so would. Ew. I refuse to fuck my boss for you. Now, if we got your friend What's-Her-Name over here? Then we could have some real fun."
"Sorry, Hunt, I want you all to myself this morning," Spot interrupted before turning towards the girl and giving her a not-so-pleasant smile, "I think it would be best if you left."
"Seriously?" the girl asked, looking quite affronted. "Fine, suit yourself. I've got better things to do anyway," she huffed before turning away and walking out the bathroom door.
Speed brushed past her as he walked in, "What are we all doing in the bathroom? And who's the chick? Are you guys getting kinky without me? Because that's just rude; it's my bathroom too, you know."
"Find her," Spot ordered with disinterest, "Then kill her. Have Hunter find somewhere to dump the body; she's his mistake."
Speed sighed in reluctance, "I'm on it Boss, but it is a shame; she's a hot little thing."
"Wait, kill her? Why kill her?" Hunter asked in anxiety. "That's not fair. I don't even get why you're jealous! You've got Slingshot as your bitch so why can't I have one?"
"You know the rules: no one comes in here unless they're part of the gang," Spot reminded him dispassionately before beginning to turn away.
"Yeah? And what about that little freak with the crush on you?" Hunter asked angrily. "Last time I check he wasn't part of the gang. When are we going to kill him? Or, hey, wait a minute, maybe we aren't going to kill him because he's your bitch! Is that it?"
Spot sighed in frustration. "He's my problem; I'll deal with him. You have any trouble with that?" he challenged.
"And? What if I do?" Hunter asked, not looking at all intimidated.
Spot narrowed his eyes. "If you're not for me you become the enemy and I'll treat you as such," he stated coldly.
"You're going to kill me just because I think you're being unfair?" Hunter asked in livid disbelief. "This is bullshit. You're turning into a fucking Nazi or something. I didn't sign on for that."
"I can't afford to take chances, you know that," Spot explained. "I have my 'bitch' under control; I can't really say the same for you right now."
Hunter took a few seconds to stare angrily at his boss before he visibly backed off. "You have me under control," he reluctantly relented, "Whatever you want is yours, you know that."
"Go dump the body," Spot ordered without any malevolence. "And if you ever bring someone here without my permission again you're going to wish you didn't just repledge your loyalty," he warned before turning away.
Hunter sighed and massaged his forehead before turning to go find his now most likely dead date. "It's way too early for this crap…either that or too late," he muttered to himself.
"We're going to a ballet," Itey announced proudly as soon as he stepped into Skittery's house.
"Culture, here we come," Skittery warned. "So what's it about anyway? Because cracked nuts does not sound very ballet-y. You think it's like a kung fu ballet or something?"
Itey shrugged, "No idea. We really should have asked Bumlets yesterday; I bet he would know. You think it'll be any good?"
"Hey, if it isn't we can always just make out and get everyone around us completely and utterly uncomfortably until we get kicked out," Skittery reasoned.
"Sounds like a good enough plan. …Mush and Blink might be a little pissed at us though," Itey replied.
Skittery just shrugged, "Eh, we'll buy them a fruit basket or something. I'm sure they'll get over it, you know…eventually."
"God, we're awful friends," Itey realized. "Okay, new rule: no making out or fucking while we're out with Mush and Blink…unless we're alone in the bathroom, of course. I kind of want to keep them as friends and scaring them off is something that would be incredibly bad."
"You think we can actually manage that?" Skittery asked uncertainly. "I mean, I'm totally with you on the whole wanting to keep them as friends thing, don't get me wrong, but not sexually assaulting you every chance I get is going to be fucking hard."
Itey furrowed his brows. "Yeah, it really will be, won't it?" he asked as if he just realized it. "Maybe if we reward yourselves with sex only if we manage to not do anything during The Nutcracker."
"That won't work!" Skittery claimed, "I'll just be thinking about it the entire time and that'll make me want to jump you even more; I'm an instant gratification type of guy."
"Okay, so we'll just reward ourselves with something else," Itey suggested while he struggled to think of a good reward.
"Pft, like there's anything better than sex," Skittery brushed off. "Good luck thinking of something."
"If you don't jump me you can that Sex Pistols shirt of mine that you like so much," Itey bargained.
"No shit?" Skittery asked with excitement. "Fucking kick ass. Okay."
"Sweet," Itey replied happily, "It's a deal then. Now, come on, let's go. Do you even realize how much sex we have to get in before we go pick up Mush so I won't be as horny as all fuck throughout the entire ballet/opera thing?"
"Hey, sounds like a good enough idea to me," Skittery smirked before following him.
"But you said you would!" Dutchy whined as he followed Bumlets around on Saturday morning.
"I said 'yes' to going to Specs' house," Bumlets reminded him, "But I very clearly remember saying 'no' to the whole fake boyfriend thing. I'm getting pretty damn tired of being gay for everyone; I'm straight, god damn it."
"But this is important!" Dutchy pouted, "And before you say anything, I know I say that about all my crushes, but this one is different. And I know I always say that too, but this time I actually mean it."
"You always say that, too," Bumlets pointed out, "Face it, Dutch, even if you were completely serious about Specs (and, truthfully, I don't think you are, though I do think that you think you are) you've cried wolf way too many times for me to actually take you seriously."
"There's nothing I can do to convince you to do this for me?" Dutchy asked pitifully. "What if I remind you that you're my best friend in the entire world? Or what if I promise to give you money? If you want I can do your homework for a month…for forever if you wanted me to. Please, Bum, this is really super fucking important."
"Your crushes are always super important," Bumlets claimed, "…Until two weeks later when you move onto someone else, and then that crush is super important. And Specs? Come on, man, he's homophobic as fuck."
"Thus the jealous angle," Dutchy said as if it was obvious. "Please, Bumlets? You know I would do anything for you, right?"
"Oh, hell, no, you are not guilt tripping me into this, Dutch," Bumlets snapped, "I refuse to be gay for you."
"Anything," Dutchy repeated, "And you won't even do this one little, tiny, minuscule, insignificant, itty bitty, minor, trivial-"
"Okay, stop with the synonyms already, god," Bumlets burst out, threading a hand through his hair and looking frustration. "Fuck. Fine."
Dutchy's eyes widen. "You'll do it? For reals? Oh god, Bumlets! I love you, you know that, right?" he exclaimed before pouncing on him and not letting him go, "You are the absolute best friend a guy could ever have. I love you! God, I love you so much!" He kissed him on the check in his excitement.
"Okay, okay," Bumlets replied hurriedly before pushing Dutchy off of him, "Point taken. Can we please save all the PDA until we need it? And, just so you know, this is a big ass favor I'm doing you. You're going to still be paying me back when you're eighty fucking years old, understood?"
"Deal. No problem," Dutchy readily agreed while he beamed. "Have I already mentioned how much I love you? Or how much of a fucking good friend you are?" he asked as he bounced on his heels and let loose a giggle.
Bumlets sighed, hating that he actually agreed to help but knowing that there was no way he could back out. How the hell could he yell at David for letting Specs walk all over him? He just proved Dutchy could do the same thing to him. "Let's just go before I change my mind, alright?" he asked before heading towards the door.
"Wake the fuck up already, man," Jack demanded as he continually poked Swifty in the stomach. "I'm bored as shit and there's nothing to eat around here."
Swifty rolled over to face his friend and drowsily opened one eye. "You eat when you're bored?" he asked, his voice slightly raspy from just waking up, "That's such a fat kid thing to do. And there is so food here. Go stuff yourself until you throw up and let me sleep."
Jack sighed in frustration. "You're so boring, dude. Are you seriously just going to sleep through the entire day? What happened to us hanging out all day today? It'll be hard doing that if you're in bed."
"Was that a subtle hint that you want to sleep with me?" Swifty yawned, "Because I've gotta tell you, I'm not really cool with that. I mean, I don't really trust you enough to not think you'll do something perverted with my super hot body while I'm in a heavy sleep."
Jack smacked him lightly on the side of his head. "Please, you'd love it if I did something perverted to your 'super hot body'," he claimed smugly, "It's so completely obvious how hot you are for me. But, I'm sorry; I can't return your feelings. I really hope we can get past this and still be friends though."
"You're just asking to be punched in the face," Swifty warned sleepily before burrowing into his covers a little more.
"At least it would get you out of bed," Jack muttered loud enough to make sure Swifty heard him.
Swifty mumbled incoherently before yawning widely.
"You're a terrible friend," Jack complained as he sat on the floor and leaned against the bed. "And not only that, but you're also an awful host. You're supposed to keep your guest entertained, in case you didn't know."
"You're more like an annoying little brother than a guest," Swifty pointed out. "There's food, there's television, there's Internet, there's video games; what more do you want? A pony?"
"Can it be a pink pony?" Jack asked with sarcastic glee.
Swifty burst out laughing before fully opening his eyes. "How did I become the one everyone thinks is gay?"
"You're the one that pictures all the guys naked, not me. That's way gayer than wanting a pink pony," Jack reminded him with a grin. "What do you think of Annabell for my new pony's name?" he mock mused.
"Annabell's very pretty," Swifty assured him. "Now get the hell out so I can go back to sleep."
"I thought you got over this," Jack replied. "What the hell is it with you and your obsessive need to sleep?"
"Cause without it I'll become an insane, unintelligible mess of a human being," Swifty lectured. "Since I'd really rather avoid that road I try my best to sleep on a regular basis. Why the hell do you insist on making me sleep deprived?"
"You've gotten plenty of sleep, dude," Jack argued. "Six hours is a pretty fucking good amount if you ask me."
"Not on the weekend, it's not," Swifty retorted. "The weekend is for sleeping."
"The weekend is for thinking about something besides school," Jack corrected right away. "Now get the fuck up and let's do something so awesome it'll make Monday seem like the worst day in our entire lives."
Swifty rolled his eyes before sighing. "You're not going to let me go back to sleep anytime soon, are you? Fine, let me just get some clothes."
"Hold my hand," Dutchy growled under his breath when he couldn't keep a hold of Bumlets' hand.
They were standing outside Specs' front door but had yet to knock. Dutchy kept leaning towards Bumlets in an attempt to physically show they were 'boyfriends' now, but every move he made towards his friend Bumlets followed in reverse.
Bumlets gave a half-hearted glare. "Do we absolutely have to do this? Why can't you be like a normal person and just tell the bastard you have a man-crush on him?"
"Bumlets," Dutchy whined pathetically before making another grab for his hand, "You know I can't do that. Didn't you already agree to do this? You can't just back out now. Please? What am I supposed to tell him now?"
"How about 'Hey, Specs! I'm a single gay boy with an immense crush on you. It'll probably go away within a few days, but if you feel like robbing me of this pesky virginity I have I would be forever grateful'," Bumlets mocked as he yanked his hand away from his friend yet again.
"Please, Bumlets," Dutchy started to beg. "I promise to love you forever if you just do this one, itty bitty thing for me."
"That's one of the things I'm afraid of, actually," Bumlets muttered, crossing his arms in an attempt to stop Dutchy from coming after his hands.
Dutchy groaned. "That's what you're afraid of? I'm not going to get a crush on you, Bum, I swear. Not only because are you my best friend and I think of you like a brother, but also because my heart and entire being belong to Specs for ever and always."
"Yeah? You sure about that little comment? Because I'm pretty positive I remember just a couple of days ago when your heart belonged to Sean," Bumlets replied skeptically.
"But I told you 'this is different'!" Dutchy reminded him. "Please? I promise to buy you ice cream afterwards," he proposed.
"Really?" Bumlets asked in clearly sarcastic disbelief as his eyes widened and his arms uncrossed. "A real live date with the man of my dreams? Holy Shirly Temple! Are you serious? Don't lie to me because I'm just sure it'll crush my little heart. Do you really and truly mean it? A date? Yipee!"
"Shirly Temple?" Dutchy asked in confusion, for the moment ignoring everything else that was said.
"Sure, you know…Shirly Temple," Bumlets tried to explain, suddenly no longer agitated. "On the goooood ship, lol-li-pop," he sang, "Such a sweeeeet trip to the can-dy shop. Where bon bons plaaay on the sunny beach of Peppermint Bay-"
"I know who Shirly Temple is," Dutchy claimed, "I just… Why the hell Shirly Temple? And how the hell did you know that song off the top of your head?"
Bumlets shrugged nonchalantly. "I kind of grew up listening to Shirly Temple…secretly," he explained.
Dutchy sighed, "And you wonder why everyone just assumes you're gay."
"Okay, you know what? Maybe you shouldn't point out how gay I am when you're trying to talk me into helping you," Bumlets advised. "I don't want to be here, I don't want to do this, and the fact that you're making fun of me just makes my desire to leave that much greater."
"It wasn't an insult!" Dutchy claimed in hast, trying his best to placate his friend. "I was just pointing something out. I was trying to be helpful, really. Now that I understand that you don't want me to do it I won't. Please, please, please help me, Bumlets."
The opening front door cut off whatever Bumlets was about to say.
"What are you guys doing hanging around outside my door?" Specs asked curiously. "You guys stalkers now? Because you aren't very good at it."
"Uh…we um…" Dutchy struggled, his gaze flickering from Bumlets to Specs and back again.
"Dutchy dragged me here," Bumlets answered in an uncaring voice. "He wanted to come visit you for some inane reason. I wouldn't have come but…" he trailed off before shrugging, "…The duties of a boyfriend, right?"
Dutchy smiled happily at his shoes as Bumlets made a grab for his hand.
"I'm hungry," Skittery complained from his position on top of Itey.
"Well we are in a car," Itey replied while he played with the other boy's hair. "We could go through a drive-thru and pick something up if you want. There's a Wendy's pretty close around here…I think."
"That's the problem with driving to random places and pulling into the first abandoned parking lot you see so you can have wild and crazy sex," Skittery said. "You never know where exactly in the hell you are. Plus, the backseat starts to get pretty uncomfortable around the third time."
"Well, I thought I was doing a pretty good job of distracting you," Itey retorted in a pseudo-offended voice. "I'm sorry if I'm not good enough for you anymore. Why don't you just go and find Bumlets, you bastard? I bet you would appreciate him."
"During the sex is fine, babe. I swear that there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. It's after all the sex is over and we start to relax that I feel like my back may have quite possibly snapped in half," Skittery explained soothingly. "Your car's ceiling is way too low. Next time we go at it I'm bottom; I don't think my back bends forward enough anymore to manage topping anytime soon."
"Good, because I was going to be topping next time anyway," Itey agreed, "There's only so much my poor ass can take, you know. And that second time was pretty rough."
"Did I hurt you?" Skittery asked with concern as he pulled off Itey a little in order to look him in the eye.
Itey grinned up at him, "Are you insulting my super bottom-boy abilities? We've gone longer and rougher than that hundreds of times, I just need a break. I still have to make sure I'm fine to sit in a theater for a couple of hours after all."
"Yeah, good point," Skittery consented. "It works out great then, doesn't it? Just, you know, make sure I'm okay to sit in a theater for a couple of hours, all right? …Or you can just tear into me and we can go get some Vicoden or something afterwards."
"No drugs," Itey commanded. "I want to do this all right, you know? We can't go drugged up out of our heads."
"Okay, no drugs," Skittery agreed. "But we can get food, yes? Because I really am seriously hungry."
"Well, you'll have to get off me first," Itey explained. "Other than that I don't have a problem with it."
"But you're warm and I don't want to get up and try to put on my pants," Skittery complained before dropping back onto Itey's chest.
Itey gazed at his friend lovingly. "I don't really want you to get up either," Itey easily confessed with a small smile. "God, I love you so much, you know?"
Skittery immediately tensed before pulling back slightly. "Seriously? No, of course you're not serious," he mumbled to himself as he quickly jerked himself up. "You aren't serious, are you?"
"I… Skittery…" Itey faltered, his face clearly showing panic.
"Oh no," Skittery answered with wide eyes as he roughly pulled on the first pants he saw. "No, no, no. You don't. You can't. That wasn't part of this…thing…whatever the hell it is…was… I… I thought you were over this."
"Skittery… It wasn't what it sounded like, okay?" Itey asked in a panic as he sat up. "Let's just… Can we please…? Forget I said anything, okay? I won't say it again. Please. Just…don't go."
"I'll…uh…see you later, okay…uh…dude?" Skittery asked hurriedly, already pulling on a shirt and fiddling with the car door handle.
"No! Come the fuck back here, Skitts!" Itey shouted as he began to follow him with unbuttoned pants.
"I can't deal with this kind of thing, Itey!" Skittery explained loudly while he walked away, "You know I can't deal with this kind of thing. I just…need to get out of here."
Itey quietly stood in place as he watched the other boy go. After a few seconds he quietly mumbled, "Those are my pants!" to himself before heading back to his car.
"I don't understand gay relationships at all," Specs complained. "So, like, what happened between you and David? And whatever happened to David liking me? And I didn't even realize you two were interested in each other. So do you guys just jump from guy to guy everyday or what?"
"David and I were never going out, you dense rodent. And no gay guy would ever have a crush on you," Bumlets explained before thinking of Dutchy. "…At least no sane gay guy."
" 'Dense rodent'?" What the fuck? Dutchy, why do you insist on hanging out with people who keep insulting me?" Specs asked.
"Hey, I wouldn't even be here if Dutchy hadn't kept bugging me to come," Bumlets explained with honesty. "And you're even more retarded than I thought if you think I'm just going to keep quiet while you make asshole comments about gays."
"Bumlets, calm down, alright?" Dutchy broke in before Specs could respond.
"And why the hell do you let him get away with it?" Bumlets asked Dutchy. "Do you have absolutely no gay pride or something? Fuck, I'm not even- …He doesn't annoy you…even a little bit?"
"Well…no," Dutchy answered, "I mean, I guess he… What's the problem with you two just getting along, huh? Just for a couple of minutes? Until we leave? Then on Monday you can go back to hating each other."
"He's a bigoted asshole," Bumlets complained. "How the hell am I supposed to get along with him?"
"You sure you even know what 'bigot' means?" Specs snapped.
"Bigot: a pompous asshole utterly intolerant of anyone with a differing viewpoint," Bumlets recited, "Synonyms include…dogmatist, diehard, extremist, chauvinist, sectarian, crank, doctrinaire, monomaniac, partisan, stickler-"
"It's cute that you want to prove how smart you are, but, really, you're not all that impressive," Specs interrupted smugly. "Can you name all the bones in the human body? All the elements on the Periodic Table? Can you even name all the state capitols?" he laughed. "If you can't even do that, then you really aren't that bright, are you?"
Bumlets clenched his fist and grit his teeth together, "Smart enough to finish what Davey started, you mother fucking-"
"Bumlets!" Dutchy exclaimed, standing up as soon as Bumlets did and making sure he was in front of him. "Can I see you out in the kitchen for just the tinniest little minute? Please?"
"Pretty sure I already know what you're going to say, Dutch," Bumlets brushed off easily with a false calm, "So I'm going to go with a 'no' this time. Now, get the fuck out of my way so I can beat the living shit out of Specs."
"Bumlets!" Dutchy shouted again, this time taking his friend's hands in his. "You promised you wouldn't punch him in the face, remember? So don't, okay?"
"I wasn't going to punch him in the face," Bumlets explained with a low growl, "I was going to keep kicking him in the stomach until he threw up his pancreas."
"I'm surprised you even know what a pancreas is," Specs replied with a smirk. "Know what it does? Because I'm betting you don't."
Bumlets clenched his teeth tighter and refused to answer.
"It helps get you hormonal or something," Dutchy interrupted quickly and carelessly. "Who the fuck cares. Bumlets, you can't touch Specs, okay? Please don't. Just…come to the kitchen with me, all right? Real quick. I promise."
"Fine," Bumlets finally agreed in a low voice before relaxing slightly and following Dutchy out.
"You be sure to tell me whenever you find out what a pancreas is," Specs shouted after them before quietly mumbling, "God, what a fucking cunt," under his breath.
"Hello, Mrs. Higgins," Spot greeted politely as she answered the front door. "Have the police been able to locate your car yet?"
"Hello, Sean, Come in," Mrs. Higgins greeted before stepping aside. "I'm afraid they haven't found it yet, no. Luckily a friend from Tony's (Anthony's father) work has an extra car that he's letting me borrow."
"That's great," Sean replied with believable happiness. "So is Anthony home? He told me I could come over today."
"Oh, yes, of course," Mrs. Higgins answered as if she had forgotten. "He's upstairs in his room. You just wait in the living room and I'll go get him, okay?"
"Of course," Sean agreed politely before rolling his eyes at the woman's back as she turned to walk off. He was already starting to think that he shouldn't have agreed to come for only fifty bucks. He was starting to get lenient in his old age it seemed.
His thoughts drifted back to Hunter's date that he had ordered dead this morning. Okay, so maybe he wasn't getting all that lenient. Maybe it was just with Racetrack.
But then what the hell did that mean?
"Sean," Racetrack greeted happily as he walked down the stairs ahead of his mom. "What's up?"
Spot shrugged. "Around the usual," he answered evasively.
"Yeah? Well that's always good," Racetrack answered while thinking the exact opposite.
They stood together in the living room awkwardly for a few seconds, neither one knowing exactly what to say to each other.
"So what are you boys doing today?" Mrs. Higgins cut in happily, not seeming to notice the intense awkwardness that was surrounding them.
"We…um…well, Sean wanted to see this movie," Racetrack answered. "I know I'm grounded and I probably won't be allowed to leave the house, but he insisted that I ask anyway."
Mrs. Higgins looked at her son disapprovingly before turning her gaze onto Sean.
"It would mean a lot if he could go with me," Spot put in.
"I don't mean to sound too strict, but there's not a lot of movies out right now that I think Anthony should be watching," Mrs. Higgins admitted. "What is it that you want to go see?"
"Well, it's actually a documentary that my cousin made," Spot lied smoothly, "But it's on a projector and he didn't want me to borrow it so we have to go over to his house."
"What's it about?" Mrs. Higgins asked, looking skeptical and turning to her son.
"It's about…the evils of drugs," Racetrack made up on the spot.
"Is it now?" Mrs. Higgins replied, looking like she didn't believe it for a minute.
"Sean's cousin was a drug addict and he checked himself into rehab a year ago," Racetrack tried to explain. "He made this film during his stay to try and distract himself from the withdrawals and stuff."
Spot nodded his affirmation. "He just got back a couple of weeks ago and when he heard about Racetrack's gambling addiction he wanted him to watch it," he added, "He thinks it'll help."
"Oh," Mrs. Higgins said, thrown off because she now thought they had been telling the truth all along. "Well, okay, you can go, but just this one time, okay? And I want you to come straight home after."
"Thanks Mom," Racetrack beamed before heading towards the door with Spot.
"Bumlets!" Dutchy scolded quietly as soon as they both got to the kitchen. "What the hell was that? You told me you wouldn't!"
"I told you I wouldn't punch him in the face," Bumlets corrected. "And, for the record, I never intended to. How the hell can you let him talk to you like that anyway?"
"He doesn't mean it," Dutchy answered back. "He's just confused right now."
"Because he loves you so much?" Bumlets asked sarcastically.
"Exactly," Dutchy agreed happily. "Now, will you please help me show him that he's jealous so he can fall for me and confess his undying love for me and we can live happily ever after?"
"This was a stupid idea," Bumlets grumbled before beginning to turn away.
"What? Why?" Dutchy asked, his eyes wide with panic. "Are you leaving? You can't be leaving. How can Specs get jealous without you here?"
"How the hell can Specs get jealous with me here? …Seeing as he's a homophobic heterosexual who doesn't, nor ever will, have any romantic interest in you whatsoever," Bumlets replied.
"Bumlets," Dutchy whined, "Why can't you do this one thing for me? Please? Pleeeeaaaaaase?"
"Dutchy," Bumlets sighed, "What the hell is it with you and falling for people you can't have? God, I want to smack you in the head and then hug you and tell you how unfair everything is. I can't indulge this, Dutch."
"What if I liked you instead?" Dutchy asked pitifully before sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs.
"I can't indulge that either," Bumlets answered, his kind tone offsetting his harsh words. "But I really don't think you do like me, right? So it's not really that much of a problem," he continued before sitting across from his friend.
"I just want somebody, you know?" Dutchy explained sadly. "I'm already a junior and the only kiss I've ever had was with Sean and he doesn't even like me. No one but a handful of people knows I'm gay and…and I'm never going to be brave enough to come out and no one's ever going to know and I'm never going to find anyone. And, god, why the hell do I have to be such a girl about it?"
Bumlets sighed again. "Look, I'm not all that good at this consoling stuff (not that it seems to deter anyone from seeking me out when they have a problem though) and it makes me pretty fucking uncomfortable, so if you really want to have this conversation let's get the fuck out of Specs' kitchen, get some beer, and maybe turn on a hockey game before I have to go into all the little details that make you special."
"I'm not looking for consolation right now, Bum; I'm looking for the truth. I want real, solid answers with reasons and…and a basis behind them. The comforting and beer and hockey can come later," Dutchy replied. "So, the truth: am I ever going to find anyone?"
"You know I don't believe in that 'there's that one person out there for you nonsense' and some people do end up alone," Bumlets answered. "The fact that you won't come out of the closet doesn't do your chances a bit of good. And, even if you do find some, the fact that you'll settle for anyone means that you'll get some loser no one else wants; he'll either be some drunk asshole who doesn't do shit or some drunk asshole that beats you. Can we go get drunk now?"
Dutchy just stared at the floor a few minutes before seemingly snapping himself out of it. "I just found out my husband's going to be an alcoholic; I think that means I need to get drunk."
"I love you, you know that, right?" Bumlets asked awkwardly as they stood up. "You're, like, one of my best friends and shit and I don't want to have anything happen to you."
Dutchy smirked. "You can save all the comfort shit until you've drank a couple of beers," he offered.
Bumlets grinned back before sighing in relief. "Thank fucking god."
"Hey," Itey greeted Mush with a tight smile as he picked him up. "You know how Blink might not come? Well…Skittery might now come either."
"Why not?" Mush asked with concern emanating from every pore. "Nothing bad happened, did it?"
"We kind of had this fight…thing…not really a fight," Itey tried to explain as he pulled out of Mush's driveway, "It was more of an anti-fight, really…which then began this semi-freak out…I mean…Skittery kind of freaked out at me…but really it was my fault to begin with because I kind of broke this promise that I never actually promised and…uh…anyway…I don't think Skittery wants to be near me right at this moment…or any other moment ever again…at least for awhile."
"I…don't really understand what you just said," Mush admitted honestly. "You had a fight?"
"More like an anti-fight," Itey corrected as he calmed down from the panic his rambling had sent him.
"What's an anti-fight?"
"It's like…the exact opposite of a fight," Itey explained as if it was obvious.
"So…aren't you guys anti-fighting all the time then?" Mush asked, his confusion rising with every second.
"Well, yeah, obviously. But this was a real anti-fight. This was like…as far from fighting as you could ever get and…and Skittery has a problem with anti-fighting," Itey tried to clarify.
"I'm sorry, but I'm still really confused," Mush replied, his eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to make sense of everything. "So…what was the anti-fight about? And what's an anti-fight, again? Actually, could you just try to explain what happened without using the word 'anti-fight'?"
"I told Skittery that I loved him," Itey explained hurriedly, "Which is a big 'no-no' with Skittery. He has this irrational and overwhelming fear of relationships and since he associates 'love' with 'relationships' it was the absolute worst thing to say. I mean, he pretty much ran off right after I let it slip. And it's not even like he thinks I don't love him and I know he loves me it's just…we had this silent agreement to never mention it.
"See, awhile ago, like, last year-ish, we used to have fights about it all the time. I wanted a relationship; he wanted a fuck buddy. Finally, we realized we both didn't want to lose whatever it was that we had and we came to this type of unspoken compromise. I stopped harping about being exclusive and he started getting more touchy-feely.
"Of course, now I've fucked it all up by voicing aloud that I love him instead of just giving him an extra-thorough rim job like I normally would have done."
Mush shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't really need to hear that last part."
Itey flinched slightly. "Oh, shit, sorry. I…Skittery and I…we…we sometimes say really inappropriate things that aren't necessarily true in order to make people we don't like uncomfortable. Well…and sometimes to tease Bumlets and Dutchy. Sometimes they just slip out, you know?"
"It's okay," Mush assured him. "I'm just not all that used to being so open about it, I guess. I mean, even Racetrack and Blink don't tell me much about their boyfriends, and where else am I going to hear it, right?"
Itey smiled sadly. "I always hold Skittery when I want to tell him I love him," he told Mush honestly before laughing. "I'm holding the poor guy all the time. I don't even think he really knows what it means." Tears suddenly slid down his cheeks. "I think we broke up, Mushie."
"Maybe we shouldn't go to The Nutcracker," Mush suggested. "We can go somewhere else instead. Is there anywhere you think you might want to go? I'm up for anything."
"No, let's go to The Nutcracker," Itey replied before roughly brushing his tears away with the palm of his hand and sniffling once. "I was kind of looking forward to it. Plus," he added, giving a slight smile, "Blink might be there, right?"
"And you didn't think to plan this a little better?" Spot asked angrily after they had gone to both Mush and Blink's houses only to discover that they were gone.
"I…guess I just didn't…"
"Didn't think they'd go out without you?"
"Please," Racetrack rolled his eyes, "I'm not that self-centered. I just wanted to surprise them and I assumed that they'd be at one of each other's houses. Where else do you think they could have gone?"
Spot gave one of his infamous silent snorts. "Why the hell would I know? They aren't my friends."
"Oh, right, I forgot, the big, bad gang leader doesn't have any friends," Racetrack retorted. "Oh, no, of course he doesn't. Wouldn't want to ruin his image, after all."
"Are you trying to ask me to kill you?" Spot asked with a growl as he continued driving, "Because that's what it sounded like and I don't have any problem doing it."
"I'm just pissed," Racetrack tried his best to explain, "I was looking forward to hanging out with Mush and Blink and they weren't even home. Most likely they're off together somewhere and it sucks because it's so apparent that I'm missing them more than they're missing me."
"That's why friends suck," Spot pointed out, not really sure what he should be saying, "And that's why I don't have any."
"Then you've obviously never had friends before," Racetrack said, "Or, at least, not good friends because with good friends you'll do anything for them if it'll make them happy. I'm definitely not angry at Blink and Mush for having a good time without me; I'm pissed at my mom for telling me I can never have a good time with them again."
"That's all Hallmark bullshit," Spot argued. "You can't actually believe all that shit you're spewing."
"So…definitely never any real friends, then," Racetrack told himself while making sure Spot heard him too.
"Or maybe I'm just not some pansy ass retard that cares about people too much," Spot suggested.
"Or maybe I'm not some selfish bastard who only uses people to get what he wants," Racetrack shot back.
"You're annoying as piss," Spot complained. "We're going to Brooklyn so I can pick up some cigarettes. If we don't then I'm going to be forced to kill you and then I'll have your idiotic friends annoying the hell out of me."
"Right, and then you'll have to kill them and it'll be a messy situation all around," Racetrack continued in a bored toned. "Hey, if you're buying cigarettes pick me up a pack, okay?"
Sean looked confused for a few seconds. "Huh."
"What?" Racetrack asked, looking over at him.
Spot shrugged. "Didn't know you smoked," he admitted.
"It's usually only during horse races," Racetrack explained, "But I need some way to deal with you without my head exploding, right? Cigarettes'll help."
"Tell me about the guy who fucked you," Dutchy demanded at the television before taking a sip of beer.
Bumlets shrugged, not looking over at him. "What the hell else is there to tell? And why does everyone seem so interested in it? I told you everything that happened already."
"It's just strange thinking that someone wouldn't like sex with a guy," Dutchy tried to explain. "I mean, what was it like? What does having sex with someone you aren't attracted to at all feel like? Especially since you said you were ready enough when you thought he was a girl. I mean, the whole thing just confuses me."
"It was…nice enough," Bumlets tried to explain, "I mean, I still got off and everything. It was just…uncomfortable and I got a little nauseous and I had to spend the whole time thinking about boobs."
"And he didn't notice?" Dutchy asked, "I mean…wouldn't you notice something like that?"
Bumlets shrugged. "He thought I was a virgin so he probably just thought I was nervous or something. Plus, you're not really analyzing your partner too much when you're busy fucking them."
"Yeah, I guess you wouldn't," Dutchy consented. "It's just a little weird. He was fine with just taking your virginity like that? Didn't he think that he should wait?"
Bumlets shrugged again, "You just don't think about things like that. I mean, we were both pretty turned on by the time I told him. He was…you know…nice enough about the whole thing."
"He was nice about it? How?"
"He uh…he took everything pretty slow," Bumlets tried to explain, "And afterwards he just sorta…held me…until I left, anyway. Can we stop talking about this now?"
"Oh, yeah, I guess so," Dutchy agreed. "Why do you hate Specs so much?"
"Because he's a homophobic asshole," Bumlets answered easily. "Did that escape your notice while you were busy trying to get into his pants?"
"Hey!" Specs cried out, indignant, "I never tried to get into his pants! I tried to get him jealous so he would try to get into my pants."
"Seriously, Dutch, I don't know how you can stand to put up with him. Isn't it enough that you have homophobic parents? Why the hell are you trying to surround yourself with that crap all the time?"
"He's just going through a rough time," Dutchy tried to defend Specs. "He suddenly found out that everyone thinks he's gay and having a relationship with David and he's trying to sort out all his feelings about it. If we just give him some time I'm sure he'll get better."
"Everyone thinks I'm gay, too," Bumlets pointed out. "You don't see me off prancing around, shouting out any offensive, generalizing comment about gays that pops into my head, do you?"
"But it's not like you don't deny it at every turn either," Dutchy reminded him, "I mean, you always get so irritated when anyone ever thinks you're gay or makes fun of you for it."
"Of course I do! Because I'm not gay," Bumlets tried to explain. "I want people to know I'm straight because it tends to get me laid more often. Chicks tend to sleep with men they think are straight, you know. It has nothing to do with shame or any of that other crap. Gay, straight, bi…it's all about sex anyway. I don't see why the fuck people try to overcomplicate every single thing that has to do with fucking."
Dutchy shrugged, deciding to let the subject drop. "Guess it just shows what human lives really revolve around."
"Oh…oh…oh…Oh! OH SHIIIT!" Jack shouted before launching himself off the skateboard he had been on.
Swifty laughed loudly as he went to collect the still rolling board. "You were just rolling, Jack. I'm pretty sure you got more hurt jumping off than you would have if you had put one of your feet down on the sidewalk. Seriously, you were going, like, two miles an hour. A fat person could walk faster than that."
"Hey! That was a downhill slope and I kept going faster," Jack tried to defend himself.
"This whole area is perfectly flat," Swifty argued, "There are no downhill slopes. You just can't ride a skateboard because it doesn't have anything to do with gay sex."
"I do not excel in sports that could substitute as gay porn, okay?" Jack snapped, "I really wish you would stop saying that. There is nothing gay about basketball or football or baseball. Those are manly sports. Ask anyone and they'll say the same."
"Any sport that has guys smacking other guys on the ass is classified as gay, my friend," Swifty claimed. "And the fact that everyone shares a huge communal shower together afterwards? Yeah, that's a little gay."
"What about swimming? Swimming isn't a gay sport."
"Speedos," Swifty reminded him.
Jack sighed, "Okay, fine. So show me how to skateboard so I can add that to the list of sports that aren't gay that I can kick ass in. And if you would actually show me what I'm supposed to be doing that might help."
"Yeah, yeah, okay," Swifty consented. "But I'm not all that good at skateboarding either, you know. I only used mine to get around, and that was before I got my car and started driving. Also, I didn't really have all those balance problems like you seem to."
"Yeah, I suck, I get it already," Jack brushed off as he rolled his eyes. He took a step back on the board. "So? What am I supposed to be doing to balance?"
Swifty shrugged, "Just…balance? I told you 'I never had problems balancing'. Feel it out or something, all right? I don't know."
"Thanks, Swifty, you're a big fucking help," Jack thanked sarcastically.
"Maybe you should just roll down that huge hill again like last time," Swifty suggested in a mocking tone. "But be careful, that hill's trouble. It's pretty dangerous, you know."
"Hey guys, I thought you wouldn't show up," Blink greeted from the front entrance of the building as soon as he saw Mush and Itey.
"We thought the same about you," Itey replied happily. "What's up, my little Cyclops friend?"
Blink rolled his eye. "Better if people would stop calling me a Cyclops. It gets old pretty fast, you know?"
"Oh, sorry," Itey apologized, looking like he actually meant it. "It's just that I heard Skittery using it and…" He gave a tight smile. "It won't happen again."
"Where is Skittery?" Blink asked, looking around slightly. "I thought you two would be all over each other. Groping or making out or whatever else it is you guys do. Were you not able to talk him into coming?"
"More like I wasn't able to talk him into wanting to be anywhere close to me," Itey replied in self-pity.
"They had an anti-fight," Mush tried to explain.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Blink tried to console, pretending like he had one ounce of an idea of what an 'anti-fight' was.
Itey tried his best to shrug it off. "It doesn't matter. Let's just go in, okay? Wouldn't want to miss The Nut…whatever."
"Nutcracker," Blink supplied. "You didn't have to come if you didn't want to, you know. You don't have to feel obligated or anything. You don't seem all that optimistic about it and if you want to go find Skittery-"
"Finding Skittery would be a bad idea," Itey told him, "He needs to be alone to settle down and ride out his panic."
Mush nodded his consent. "Let's go in and get seated before the ballet starts and we get locked out, okay?"
"Definitely," Blink agreed happily.
Mush smiled. "I'm really glad you decided to come, Blink."
Blink smiled right back. "Hey, we're friends and all that, right? Plus, I really do want to see The Nutcracker."
"I won't have to give Skittery my Sex Pistols shirt," Itey said with tears in his eyes. "Of course, I probably wouldn't have given it to him anyway; he was sure to jump me at some point. Guess that's not really a problem now, is it?"
"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Mush asked in concern.
"Yeah," Itey nodded. "I'm sorry, I'm probably not very fun right now, but…I think a distraction would be the best thing. Of course, everything seems to remind me of Skitts so… I guess it's not working out all that great. If you want me to leave…"
"We're your friends," Mush reminded him, "We just want what's best for you. If you want a distraction and you think the ballet will help then we'll go. If you want to do something else to distract you-"
"No, I definitely want to see this," Itey assured him.
"Then let's go," Blink spoke up before heading towards the front entrance of the theater.
Spot and Racetrack sat smoking on the stoop of a closed concert hall.
"This was definitely not worth the fifty bucks," Racetrack complained as he exhaled his cigarette smoke.
"Exactly what I was thinking," Spot agreed before he took a hit. "I should have charged double. I would have too, if I'd've known I had to hang out with you as opposed to just picking you up and dropping you off."
"At least you're fifty bucks richer," Racetrack argued dispassionately. "I just wasted money to hang out with you of all people. This was definitely not how I pictured my Saturday."
"Maybe if you planned a little better," Spot pointed out calmly. "Damn, and the day started out so well too," he added sarcastically. "I should have known something like this would happen."
"Why? What happened?" Racetrack asked more out of boredom than actual curiosity.
"Hunter (the dumb fuck that he is) brought back some bimbo to the apartment complex and I had to kill her so she wouldn't tell anyone where the entire Brooklyn gang lives," Spot explains monotonously, "Then he got all pissed off and started screaming about how I was jealous and didn't want him having a whore or something. He's such an imbecile; I should've had him killed to."
"Can you please not tell me about the people you kill? It's creepy," Racetrack replied, doing a great job of appearing not creeped out by it at all. You know, normally people don't go around shooting all their problems away."
"It's not like I did kill him," Spot retorted, "I just thought about it. They're completely different things."
"Yeah, but the girl? Now her you did kill, right?" Racetrack asked rhetorically. "See? Shooting all your problems away."
"But not Hunter, ergo, not all my problems," Spot pointed out.
"Let's not talk about this anymore," Racetrack suggested, "The creepy factor's getting to me."
"Pussy."
"Better than being an inhuman killing machine."
Spot shrugged. "It gets the job done. You think I could maintain my status if I was a pussy like you? Hell no."
Racetrack rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't even be in the position you're in now if you weren't an inhuman killing machine to begin with. Don't try and make me feel sorry for you."
Spot snorted silently before throwing away his smoked-to-the-filter cigarette. "Like I'd want pity…especially from a pussy like you. I can do without."
Racetrack threw his own cigarette away. "What constitutes as a pussy in your mind? Because if I'm a pussy just because I think killing people's wrong then the majority of the world is a pussy with me."
"The fact that you think killing people's wrong no matter what makes you a pussy," Spot defined.
"It is wrong."
Spot rolled his eyes. "You're such a kid," he grumbled.
"We're the same age."
"I grew up faster. That's what happens when you don't have a Mommy and Daddy being overprotective and watching your every step," Spot claimed. "Hand me that lighter," he ordered before taking out another cigarette from the pack that sat in between them.
"So what happened to your parents?" Racetrack asked as he handed the lighter over.
"They were pyromaniacs," Spot replied as he took the lighter and lit his cigarette, "They used to light things on fire in the backyard all the time, but one day they started lighting all these buildings around my house on fire: a post office, a McDonald's, a couple of neighbor's houses, a Target. The police finally had to shot them to make them stop. They weren't shooting to kill, but dear old Mom and Dad got shot in a house they had just lit on fire and burned up before anyone could get to them."
"You're lying, aren't you?" Racetrack asked, sounding like he already knew Sean was.
Spot smirked as he inhaled through his filter. "Obviously. My parents' death was a lot more boring. …Just as stupid though."
"Should I even ask again or are you just going to lie?"
"I'll lie until I tell the truth," Spot replied flippantly. "Think you'll know when that is?"
Racetrack sighed before giving a small smile and rolling his eyes. "Why do you always have to be so difficult? Give me that lighter back."
Spot obediently gave the lighter to him, feeling a small electric current run through his spine has Racetrack brushed his hand.
And what the fuck was that?
"So there's this man driving down the highway with a penguin in the front seat and a police officer stops them. The police officer looks at the penguin and says, 'Take that penguin to the zoo'. The man nods and drives off. The next day the same man is driving down the same highway with a penguin in the front seat. The same police officer stops him and says; 'I thought I told you to take that penguin to the zoo.' The man says, 'I did. Today we're going to the park.'"
Mush giggled appreciatively.
"It's lame," Blink said with some embarrassment, "But it's pretty much the only joke I know."
"Alright, I got one," Itey spoke up, "And it's pretty much the only joke I know that isn't dirty, so you better appreciate it. Okay, so, there were two cupcakes in the oven. One cupcake turns to the other and says, 'Damn, it's hot in here.' The other cupcake turns to the first one and shouts, 'Holy shit, a talking cupcake!'"
Mush chuckled again.
"Lame," Skittery interrupted from behind them.
Mush and Itey turned around in their seats, surprise clearly written all over their faces.
"I…I thought you weren't going to came," Itey admitted.
Skittery shrugged before jumping over the row of seats in order to be in the same row as the others. "I was invited, wasn't I?"
"Yeah, of course," Mush assured him.
"Great, let's get these nuts crackin' then," Skittery replied, taking the seat on the end next to Blink instead of taking the empty seat next to Itey. "
"How'd you get in?" Blink asked, "I thought they already shut the doors."
Skittery smirked, "I flirted with the doorman; he's a total closet fag. He even slipped me his number, the poor loser."
"Wow," Mush muttered in disbelief, turning around in the hopes of seeing the doorman in question.
"Don't lie," Itey scolded. "How much money did you give him?"
"Twenty bucks," Skittery answered, not sounding at all ashamed to be caught lying. "I also slipped him my number. Do you think he'll call? He was kind of cute in that tough, bouncer type way."
"He was like fifty," Blink pointed out in a disgusted voice. "He was balding."
"Don't judge me," Skittery snapped, acting offended. "So I want a sugar daddy. What? Is that illegal now?"
"Just a bit, yeah," Blink replied, rolling his eye.
"Why must America stomp all over my dreams of being someone's trophy wife one day?" Skittery asked in mock frustration. "I can't even get married until I get a sex change operation because of all those stupid gay marriage laws."
"You could always just be some woman's trophy husband," Mush helpfully reminded him.
"Yeah, like a woman would ever get successful enough to be able to afford me," Skittery scoffed. "Maybe if she pulled an Anna Nicole Smith and then married me, but I'd never be able to get it on with a chick that probably sucked some eighty year old guy's dick."
"You're so much of an asshole I can't even…I don't even know," Blink replied in disgust right before the curtain started to go up.
I do like Specs, you know," Dutchy announced after a long reign of silence. "I know he's not the most…I mean, I know he's kind of offensive and everything, but so are Skittery and Itey, right? You seem to like them just fine."
"I've just gotten used to their unique brand of asshole-ish-ness," Bumlets tried to explain. "You just seem to be attracted to that type of person though. It makes you kind of demented."
"I'm not demented," Dutchy argued. "A little masochistic, sure, but not demented. But really I just like people who speak their mind."
"And someone who's nice couldn't possible do that," Bumlets said with sarcasm.
"I always get the feeling nice people are being nice to compensate for something. It's like they're plotting against me or they're constantly talking about me behind my back," Dutchy tried to explain.
"So not only are you demented, you're paranoid too," Bumlets claimed. "That's nice. Those are always good points to look for in a person."
"Yeah, okay, I can accept paranoid, but I told you, 'I'm not demented, just masochistic.' And…I don't know. I guess I am pretty fucked up. You really think I'll end up alone?"
"Paranoid, masochistic, demented, and dependent," Bumlets muttered loud enough to make sure Dutchy heard him. "The list just keeps on going up, doesn't it? Maybe you should enroll in some therapy."
"You're avoiding the question," Dutchy pointed out.
"Yeah, purposefully, might I add. I thought we were done talking about all this crap. You want to hear about the guy I slept with instead?" Bumlets asked, letting his distaste for Dutchy's question be known.
"Maybe later. Right now, I want to know if you really think I'll end up alone," Dutchy replied stubbornly. "Seriously, Bumlets, it's important to me."
"It doesn't matter what I think," Bumlets tried to tell him, "No matter what I say the ultimate outcome's going to be whatever it's going to be. Everything's up to you, man, you do know that, right?"
"Still avoiding the question," Dutchy told him.
Bumlets sighed. "I already told you, Dutch. I think that if things stay the way they are you're either going to end up alone or you're going to be with someone who treats you like shit and you'll be incredibly unhappy."
"But that's just your opinion?" Dutchy replied, sounding monotonous.
"And it doesn't really mean a hell of a lot," Bumlets finished for him. "Now can we stop talking about this?"
"I just want a sure thing, you know?" Dutchy continued, ignoring Bumlets' plea to drop the subject. "And it's like it could be anyone…I just want someone. Does that make me really desperate?"
"I think that's the definition of desperate," Bumelts answered. "Are you sure you really want to talk to me about this? I'm not the best at trying to cheer people up. Why don't you talk to David?"
"You think David might want to go out with me?" Dutchy asked excitedly.
"You aren't going out with David, Dutch. Are we clear? No crushing on David," Bumlets said with seriousness.
"Right, because David's yours, right?"
Bumlets practically growled, "I'm not gay. Why does everyone have such a problem accepting that? The reason you can't go out with David is because he couldn't handle you."
"What do you mean he couldn't handle me? Are you calling me difficult?"
"Of course you're difficult. You're being difficult right now. David's going to let you walk all over him and he really doesn't need that right now."
"Well, it's really comforting knowing which one of us you like more."
"You think I like David more just because I won't let you go out with him? I won't let you go out with him because I know it'll only end in complete and utter failure."
"Oh, because everything I do always does, right? Well thank you very much for all your confidence in me," Dutchy shouted.
"Yes, you know what? That's exactly it. And you know why everything you do ends in complete failure? Because you don't even know what the fuck you want! You want a relationship but you don't care with whom. And why do you even want a relationship? Just so you can say you have one?"
"I…I want to be kissed and touched and…and I just want to be caught up to Itey and Skittery and…and even you! When you all talk about sex I want to know how it feels! I always feel like I'm such stupid child compared to you guys!"
"Fine! You want sex? Let's go then," Bumlets offered. "Anyone will do, right? And if it'll stop you from whining-"
"Seriously? You…you want to have sex…just like that?"
"Yes or no? Because this is a one time offer."
"Yes. Definitely yes. I just…uh…so we just…go at it?" Dutchy asked with uncertainty.
Bumlets rolled his eyes. "God, you know how to ruin the mood, don't you?" he asked before throwing his shirt off.
"I liked it," Skittery declared, "It was trippy."
"Trippy?" Blink asked in disbelief. "Like a drug trip? That's what a drug trip feels like?"
"Well, not perfectly, no," Iey broke in, "But it was just as confusing as tripping."
"What didn't you understand?" Mush asked. "We can explain it to you if you want."
"It's no big deal," Itey shrugged. "It's over anyway, right?"
"No," Blink answered as if it were obvious. "This is just intermission. The ballet's only halfway done."
"Oh. Yeah, I totally knew that," Itey spoke up. "Who wouldn't?"
"Me," Skittery whispered to his friend. "This is taking a long ass time. I thought it'd only last two hours at the most."
"I know," Itey whispered right back, "What do you think our chances are of successfully sneaking out?"
"Pretty good if we wait until it starts again; Mush and Blink seemed to be getting intensely into it. We could leave right after it starts up again and come back right before it ends," Skittery proposed.
"Check out my man with all his planning abilities," Itey complimented proudly before sending Skittery a flirtatious smile.
Skittery tensed right away. "But I kind of want to see the rest of it, so you can…you know…do all that on your own," he suggested before taking a couple of steps away from Itey.
Itey looked thrown for a minute before getting his poise back. "So…Mush…you want to explain this whole thing to me?" he asked, turning away from Skittery and focusing on Blink and Mush.
"Okay, so it's Christmas Eve and Clara's godfather comes to visit," Mush began enthusiastically.
"Trouble comes this way," Swifty announced before making an inconspicuous motion towards a group of boys.
"Masson," Jack said as soon as he saw him. "So what do we do?"
Swifty shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me; I'm not the one that has to deal with him on Monday (thank god)."
"Fine. Let's just get out of here, all right? I don't feel too much like dealing with him myself."
"Yeah? And how's that going to happen? The whole park is fenced in except for the front entrance and Masson is currently standing right in the way with all of his friends," Swifty pointed out.
"Okay, okay, we can work around that," Jack proposed in a placating manner. "It's simple, really. We'll just wait until they walk away from the entrance and then we'll sneak past them. It's as easy as eating pie."
"Jack?" Masson asked from in the middle of his group of friends. "What the hell are you doing here with Swifty? I thought he was too cool to hang out with us anymore."
"And what'll happen if he finds us before he stops blocking our exit?" Swifty asked sarcastically.
"Well, clearly we should have hid," Jack answered quietly. "And why am I the one that always has to come up with plans? Does it not occur to you to try and help every once in awhile?"
"Help? First, Masson isn't my problem anymore," Swifty pointed out, following Jack's lead and speaking softly, "Second, I give helpful solutions to problems everyday so don't even pretend like I don't."
"What helpful solutions?" Jack whispered back. "I dare you to name one you've had in the last week. I bet you fifty bucks you can't name one in the next ten minutes."
"Done," Swifty agreed. "What about last Monday when I helped you find your notebook by proposing you retrace your steps?"
"That wasn't a plan."
"Then what was it? The plan was to retrace your steps, you did, and you found your notebook."
"It wasn't a plan."
"What was it if it wasn't a plan?"
"Jack! Are you ignoring me, you fucker?" Masson's voice interrupted them.
Jack and Swifty both looked up from their argument to see Masson and his group of friends walking towards them.
"What? You decided you were too good for us too?" Masson continued, still walking towards them.
Jack grinned at him. "Nah, man, it's nothing like that. I just met Swift here, is all. We were just talking."
"Is that a fact? Why's the dork got two skateboards under each arm then? You sure one of 'em ain't for you?" Masson asked, a Delancy brother on each side of him busy looking disapproving.
"Maybe he just had someone he was supposed to meet here and they never showed up," Jack suggesting before shrugging. "I don't really know; we weren't talking all that long."
"Then let's get the fuck out of here," Masson replied, jerking his head towards the entrance. "It's boring around here during the day anyway. We were just here to scope it out before the party tonight. You're coming, ain't cha?"
"Count me there," Jack assured him before heading over to the exit. "So where is it we're going to kill some time before we can get wasted?"
"We were thinking about heading back to my house to play basketball on that court we just got built in the basement," Masson answered. "Ya willing to give it a try?"
"More than I'm willing to try out your mom," Jack answered back with a smirk. "So what are we waiting for? Let's get the hell out of here."
Swifty watched them leave before quietly heading out himself. "Yeah, what a great plan, Jackie-boy. Leave me here waiting for some imaginary person like a dork. Sure saves yourself from the embarrassment of standing up to Masson though, don't it?" he muttered to himself as he walked home.
"I'm going to rehab on Sunday," Racetrack stated with displeasure, disrupting the silence that had been maintained since slipping into Spot's (most likely stolen) car in order to drop Race back at home.
"I know," Spot replied while keeping his eyes on the road. "I'm the one that set it all up, remember?"
"And yet you still don't feel like you need to apologize to me for persuading my mother to take me to some stupid rehab center," Racetrack pointed out with a little bit of malice.
"Stop whining about it," Spot ordered. "I got everything set up for you; you should be showing some gratitude."
"Gratitude? You're the reason I have to go to rehab once a week from now on until forever," Racetrack argued. "Who the hell would be grateful for that?"
"You'll like it, a'right? There's nothing to worry about," Spot harshly assured him. "I don't see why you're so fucking against rehab to begin with. You do realize you are addicted to gambling, right?"
"I like it," Racetrack tried to explain, "When I'm done liking it I'll quit. Just because some people have a problem controlling their addictions doesn't me I do."
Spot just rolled his eyes in response. "Am I going the right way? These fucking houses all look the same."
"They do not," Racetrack easily brushed off. "Turn left here."
"I hope you know that this was just a one time thing. I'm not driving you around and having a fucking friendship session with you every weekend," Spot announced.
"Believe me, I don't think I could last another minute with you," Racetrack assured him. "And don't you go acting like I dragged you into this because you clearly said that the fifty dollars was enough."
"That was before I discovered that I had to hang out with you all day," Spot reminded him. "I've got better things to do than keep a faggot like you entertained," he muttered loud enough so Racetrack could hear him.
"You did not just call me a faggot."
"Pretty sure I did, actually," Spot answered dispassionately. "Turn here?"
"No, it's the next street," Racetrack answered. "I can't believe you just called me a faggot. Usually I would get pissed, but since you're kind of a faggot too I just don't know what to do."
"I can't believe you just called me a faggot," Spot said, looking a bit taken aback.
"Pretty sure I did," Racetrack answered smugly.
Spot smirked "You should be glad I haven't planned to kill you yet, because god damn would I torture you before I actually got it done."
"I thought I made you agree that you wouldn't talk about how you kill people," Racetrack replied.
"I don't remember agreeing to anything," Spot answered. "This the house?"
"Yeah. You want to come in?"
"And talk to your mother again? No thanks. Get the hell out of my car."
Racetrack rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll see you on Monday."
"Popcorn's clearly the best."
"No way. It's ice cream all the way."
"Hell no. They don't even sell ice cream in theaters."
"But what other treat do you scream for? Ice cream is the clear winner."
Blink rolled his good eye. "Would you two stop arguing about what the best food to eat while watching a movie is? It's getting annoying. Plus, the clear winner is Reese's Pieces anyway, which makes you both wrong."
"I like Reese's Pieces," Mush said with a nod.
"Two against one against one. Are you serious? We both lost?" Skittery asked. "God damn. Something like that shouldn't happen."
"We totally could have kicked ass if they hadn't've teamed up on us," Itey reasoned. "So am I giving you a ride home?" he asked Skittery as casually as he could.
"Nope, I'm taken care of," Skittery assured him, throwing an arm around Blink. "My little- …gay pal's giving me a ride."
"You were just about to call me your 'little Cyclops'," Blink accused, not sounding all that mad.
"Wrong! I was going to call you my little one eyed, one horned, flying purple people-eater," Skittery claimed happily, "But then I realized I should save it for a really splendid time because who the hell would be awesome enough to come up with a nickname like that?"
"Quite a few people actually," Blink told him as he walked them both to his car.
"Guys, we parked over here," Itey interrupted, jerking his head in the opposite direction. He was looking kind of lost as he looked at Skittery.
"Oh, yeah, okay," Skittery replied. "See ya on Monday then."
"Bye, Mushie," Blink said with a lot more friendliness than Skittery.
"Bye Blink. Bye Skittery," Mush answered.
"Yeah, bye," Itey brushed off, looking completely bothered.
"Bye Mush!" Skittery called out from around his shoulder when he realized he should probably give him a formal good bye.
Itey flinched a little.
Bumlets tried to take deep, calming breaths as Dutchy held him.
Why was he the one always getting held?
Not that that was the point of this entire mental freak out.
The big problem being why the hell he had decided having sex with Dutchy was a good idea.
Sure, he was drunk, but certainly not that drunk. At least, he certainly didn't think he was that drunk. And he did have some excess energy from getting wound up to fight Specs and then never actually doing it, but that didn't mean he had to burn it off by having sex with one of his best friends.
The bigger problem was the fact that he kind of enjoyed it.
Sure, the two dicks thing still kind of threw him off, but topping was definitely better than bottoming. Better than fucking a girl? No, but it definitely wasn't the most uncomfortable experience of his life.
The biggest problem came with the realization that Dutchy probably thought this meant something. Even the thought made him feel like an asshole, but whatever had made Bumlets feel like fucking Dutchy it wasn't Dutchy. Bumlets didn't think about him like that…not even now. And how was he supposed to explain to Dutchy that his first time (that was supposed to be special and shit) was just a casual fuck for Bumlets.
Fuck, it wasn't good.
And what the hell should he do now? Leave? Wait until morning when Dutchy woke up and then explain it all to him?
Could they ever really be friends again after this?
A/N: Intense right?
I'm probably going to go over my already-posted chapters for mistakes before I start on chapter 16 so if you've noticed any inconsistencies or spelling errors or just don't like how something is written please let me know in a review...or pm me...or, hell, e-mail me (at hotmail screen name apathyinstereo). There are already somethings people have (helpfully) brought to my attention but if you think of something...yeah...let me know.
And, hey, check this out...this story? Over 100,000 words now. Dances like a spaz Please, join me in celebration!
Please review. You know you want to.
Until Next Time,
Please Don't Hold Back