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Attending a school party was most definitely not Merton's idea of a Friday evening well spent. In fact, it wasn't his idea of a Monday, Tuesday or any other day's evening well spent, either.
However, Tommy had invited him and Lori hadn't been able to come (and there was, of course, no causal connection between those two things) and, well, Merton knew that someone had to keep an eye on Tommy during these sorts of things. Two eyes, actually. Three, preferably, but human physique being what it was, two would have to do.
As someone had said once, in a movie that Merton would never admit to having seen more than once: it was a dirty job, but someone had to do it. Great friendships demanded great sacrifices sometimes, and Merton could rattle off a number of occasions upon which Tommy had done something he'd normally rather not have done, solely to help Merton out. (Well, a handful of occasions, surely.)
Friendship couldn't be measured in Unpleasant Evenings Spent, of course. Honestly, Merton was quite happy to be doing this for Tommy. It enhanced his reputation as a Gothic individual to attend parties and then sulk in a corner, looking dark and broody, making it very clear to anyone who looked his way that, as a real, original Goth, he didn't like parties. He didn't like to dance. He didn't like to smile at people and pretend to have a good time. He outright disliked the music, and was convinced that anyone who liked it (Goth or not) had to be deaf.
And he really hated the way someone had just managed to engage Tommy in a conversation and make him smile in a way that encouraged further conversation.
"Hi, there, and who might you be?" Merton asked, slickly inserting himself between Tommy and some blonde surfer type who had Tommy looking a bit dazed already in all of the thirteen seconds Merton hadn't been paying attention.
The guy looked at him like something that had crawled out from under a rock. Lovely. Nobody ever liked a Goth, until they needed a cure for vampirism, or something to keep the vengeful spirit of the milkman at bay.
Tommy blinked. "Merton," he said, as if not quite trusting his memory. Merton frowned. "I mean, Merton, this is Gary; Gary, Merton."
"We need to talk," Merton said, grabbing Tommy's arm and dragging him away to the only quiet, dark corner that wasn't yet occupied by people doing that other thing people did at these sorts of parties, except acting cheerful and not hearing how awful the music was.
"Tommy," Merton said. "Tommy, Tommy, Tommy." He put up his hands, wrung them, cast despairing eyes onto the ceiling - the works.
"Merton, Merton, Merton," Tommy said, his tone utterly normal and making it clear he not only had no idea of the peril from which Merton had just rescued him, but that in fact, he thought Merton was being silly, or possibly overreacting. "What's wrong?"
"What's wrong? Does the word 'incubus' mean anything to you?"
"No." And just like that, Merton's annoyance with Tommy turned to - well, he was still a little annoyed, but honestly, it wasn't Tommy's fault he wasn't the kind of expert in all things gothic and supernatural Merton was, was it? Tommy's ignorance was kind of endearing really; it wouldn't be Tommy if he wasn't completely clueless and oblivious.
"Simply put: he was going to suck off your face." According to some books, people's faces weren't really an incubus' favorite place to suck, but Merton saw no need to get into that now.
"Oh." Tommy looked back at Gary, who was getting friendly with some other surfer guy now. Merton thought they rather deserved one another, if looks were anything to go by. "You mean he was going to kiss me."
Merton switched his attention back to Tommy. There was a decided lack of 'being grossed out by the idea of being kissed by another guy' in Tommy's expression. That was good, Merton decided. The knowledge that Tommy didn't go ew! at the idea of kissing another guy was well worth having spent an evening in the company of the bright, the cheerful and the deaf.
"No, I meant that literally." All was fair in love and war - and Merton had been at war with the rest of the (bright, cheerful and deaf) universe for most of his life. He'd been in love since he'd met Tommy.
Tommy looked skeptical.
"What? You think I don't know the difference?" Merton asked.
Tommy cocked his head and gave him a look that was - well, Merton wasn't quite sure what it was.
"You want a demonstration?" He'd had punch, Merton realized, with a sense of horror. He'd had punch, and now he was making a move on his best friend. Who also happened to have been his secret crush for years, but still, Merton would have prefered to wait until he'd come up with a solid, foolproof plan before he (slowly, subtly and in simple words) told Tommy that actually, pink was also Merton's colour, even though it clashed horribly with black and made him look pasty, rather than Gothic pale.
"I ... I guess that might - are you saying you want to kiss me?"
Merton winced. "Maybe?" he hedged.
"Oh." Tommy looked thoroughly surprised. So much for Merton's recent hopes of Tommy perhaps having picked up on the subliminal messages Merton had been sending him. "Okay."
Merton blinked and took a step back - or rather, he thought he was taking a step back. He meant to take a step back. What he did was take a step forwards, put his hands on Tommy's shoulder and kiss him.
"So," Tommy said about five minutes or an hour later, "was that a demonstration of kissing or trying to suck my face off?"
"Kissing," Merton said. He felt a terrible urge to smile and beam and be at peace with the world. "Definitely kissing."