From the minute he woke up, Gregory had a very specific dilemma that had begun to gnaw on him the longer the day went on. He'd pushed it to the far back recesses of his mind, unheard and unseen, hoping it would simply go away. He took a sip of water, hoping he could wash it away like a bad taste in his mouth, but of course it wouldn't stay down for long.
He was feeling very bisexual today.
In fact, it was becoming a bother. Normally these thoughts were very passive; he'd see someone rather fit from time to time and think about how nice it'd be to have his arm draped around his shoulder, or he'd catch himself staring at any random handsome stranger in a coffee shop, like anyone else would. Normal crush things. Today alone, he'd already burnt his toast and cracked his head on a doorframe.
Despite being pretty open about his bisexuality, he'd only ever dated women. Nothing too long term, a few dates here and there, moreover he'd always had an eye for his own gender so it wasn't too shocking of a feeling to be experiencing, but it was still jarring just to be this overwhelmed by it. He wasn't even feeling particularly attracted to any one man in particular, it had just mixed into a general feeling of ah, yes, men, need one, now, preferably on top of me, please.
All he could do now was get it out of his system, he's decided. Surely one experience would be enough for him to do away with those pesky thoughts, right? Get his fix and be done with it. By then, he'd definitely be able to go about his day like a normal human being.
Hungrily, Gregory jams his key into the lock and opens the door, more excited to see his roommate than he was ready to admit. Honestly, Mole was the only person he felt comfortable enough with to make this kind of proposition towards. He and Mole had been teammates for so long that surely something like this wouldn't be enough to harm their friendship. At the very least, there was nothing to lose by asking— Maybe some dignity points, but that was collateral damage at the worst.
"Mole, I need your help," Gregory beams, the door swinging shut behind him. "...What are you doing?"
"Ze hell does it look like," Mole asks rhetorically, throwing another dart. It narrowly misses the center of Eric Cartman's smug face, and he readies another one. It hits him square in the eye, and Mole, satisfied with the new holes in the paper, turns to Gregory. "What do you need?"
"I need you to put that down for one second," Gregory says, sitting down on the couch. "Can you sit here?"
Mole cocks an eyebrow in almost incredulous confusion, but does as he's asked. He sits next to Gregory, at an acceptable distance.
"I've been having these feelings, you know?" Gregory touches, carefully choosing his words. He almost wants to drag this out, nervous of whatever outcome should arise. "All day today, I've been just having these… troubling thoughts. Well, not troubling per se, I suppose that's not the right word, but they've been… well, getting to me, so much, to the point where I decided you were the best person to help me get rid of them."
Mole hangs on to every word, almost to where he doesn't notice Gregory slide slightly towards him, no more than a centimeter. He nods Gregory on, and suddenly Gregory feels very nervous. His ears heat up, which flusters him, causing a vicious circle where he's getting mad at himself for getting worked up and all it's doing is making his face redder. If Mole notices, he doesn't say anything; bless his heart. For how gruff he can be, he's always been a good listener.
…Has Mole always been this handsome? When he's focused on Gregory like this, listening to him ramble and talk on and on about whatever, Gregory is able to fully make out Mole's features. It was kind of stupid how handsome he managed to be without putting any effort into his appearance–He had those dark brown, almost black eyes, chocolate brown hair that fell perfectly on his head even though Gregory can't remember the last time he'd seen Mole in the same room as a hairbrush. In certain lightings you could see the beginnings of freckles under his eyes; which themselves had dark halos below them. To others this might be a turn-off, but to Gregory it was a sign of a hard worker, which was the type of person whom Gregory happened to fancy.
This was going to be a lot harder than he expected.
"I-I was wondering, if you would be so obliged," Gregory starts, making sure to choose his words carefully so that he doesn't accidentally say something to offend Mole, "If you would maybe like to try… well, kissing me? O-Or I suppose allowing me to kiss you? I suppose either would be okay, I just need to do something about these thoughts, and, well, I trust you."
Instinctively, Gregory runs a hand through his hair– it's a nervous tic he'd developed, that movement of touching his hair. The feeling of his hair against his skin makes him realize that he's trembling. When Mole doesn't reply immediately, it dawns on Gregory that he may have made a terrible mistake. Oh dear, what is he to do now? Surely he'd have to move out, probably leave town; he'd have to find a new line of work– he's always wanted to see Cape Cod, he decided, but his spiraling is suddenly interrupted when—
"Okay."
"What?" Gregory blinks, unsure for a moment if he's hearing things right. He sits up straight.
"I am accepting your offer, stupidé," Christophe says. "Lean in."
"Wait, Mole," Gregory says, putting his hands in front of him. "You can't just agree to something like that so quickly!"
"You came to me because you trust me, non?" Mole tilts his head. "If you want to do this, zen we can do it. I do not see ze problem."
"You're too carefree for your own good; good Lord," Gregory groans, running a hand through his curls again. This wasn't what he expected would happen! He fully expected to get called a mean name and have his request denied from his too-headstrong best friend, which is why this particular reaction caused Gregory to flinch. He forgot that Christophe Delorne truly doesn't care about social perceptions. "Okay, I suppose."
Gregory leans in towards Mole, balling his nervous fists in his lap and closing his eyes. His eyes don't open until he feels Mole's strong hands tangle in his own hair, and he sees his best friend's face… far closer to his own face than he'd ever imagined he'd see. Mole's eyes are open too, and he pauses when he locks eyes with Gregory. The ghost of a smile is visible on Mole's chapped lips. "You are okay, Gregory?" He asks, tracing a finger on Gregory's cheek. "I promise you are okay."
Gregory gulps, and nods. He returns Mole's movement and leans into the man, his heart doing a weird little movement when their lips meet.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod. Fireworks. Instantly. The closest thing he can liken it to is the feeling of forgetting to study for a test, and then taking it on a total wing and prayer, and then receiving passing marks anyways. Just that unadulterated feeling of pure relief. The pure heat generated between the two melts some of the tension in Gregory's muscles and he relaxes, loosening his hands.
The first thing Gregory notices when he kisses Christophe for the first time is how warm he is (or maybe he's just feeling the heat of his own blush.) Christophe's breath dances onto Gregory's upper lip, and for a moment he has that terrible urge to pull away, but he simultaneously doesn't ever want the moment to end. Some odd feelings keep him grounded. His own hand finds Mole's upper arm, hyperaware of the feeling of the textiles against his fingers as he kisses him; anything to distract him from the onslaught of emotions he's suddenly feeling. He slides his hand up Mole's arm, soon finding his cheek where he cups Mole's jawline.
They pull away after kissing for a comfortable moment, a thin bridge of their mixed saliva being the only tangible evidence of their coupling. Their eyes find each other, and Gregory's eyes flit between Mole's eyes and his lips. He licks his own, wanting to savor every last remnant of Mole on his lips. The bridge snaps.
Not sure what to do with himself, Gregory slowly unsnakes his arms from Mole's waist, where they managed to find themselves somehow.
"...Wow, I…" Gregory says, surprised at the tremor present in his voice. "That was… interesting," he adds, after clearing his throat.
"Oui," Mole agrees, his hand still lingering on Gregory's shoulder. The blond doesn't pull away from the touch. Mole is rarely this tender with anyone, so he tries to capture the feeling mentally as best as he can. In one movement, however, Mole is pulling that hand away. Gregory quickly finds himself mourning it. "Anyways. Did zat fix anything?"
A terrible question, really, and Gregory feels as though he's betrayed by his own hesitation when he doesn't respond immediately. "Um. I suppose it did," he mutters.
"Good," Mole then slaps his knees and stands up from the couch. "I have business."
"Wait!" Gregory calls after Mole, reaching a hand to him before he leaves the room. "Mole?"
"Mm?"
"Did you have any plans for tonight?"