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“You know what I hate?” Stevie says, taking another pull of her beer.
“What, Stevie? What do you hate?” Patrick asks, looking beseechingly at Stevie. He really, really wants to know.
“Dicks that don’t grow as much as you think they should,” she says with a frown. “I mean, that’s false advertisement. If your dick is three inches flaccid, I expect at least six inches when you’re happy to see me, you know?”
“Mmm,” Patrick nods thoughtfully. “Yeah. Yeah, totally. I mean, a certain amount of growth is just like, a reasonable expectation.”
Stevie holds out her beer, nodding effusively. “Yes! Oh my God! See, I knew you’d understand. You get it, Patrick. Like, you know.”
They clink their beers together and drain them. Patrick stumbles to his feet, heading to the fridge for reinforcements. “You want another?” he asks, already knowing the answer.
“Does the pope shit in the woods?” Stevie replies, deadpan. They stare at each other for a long moment before dissolving into laughter. Patrick makes his way back to the couch, handing Stevie a bottle. “God. Why have we never done this before?” she asks, popping the lid off her beer with the butt of her lighter.
“Dunno,” Patrick shrugs his shoulders. “But ‘s fun.”
“It is. We don’t need David to hang out. We’re like, totally fine without him.”
“Totally,” Patrick agrees. He tips back his head and takes a long draught of his beer. “But like, it’s even better when he is here. He’s the best.”
Stevie rolls her eyes. “Gross.” She side eyes him. “But also, like, you’re not wrong.”
Patrick hums and shuffles down on the couch so he can put his head on Stevie’s shoulder. David is out this evening with his sister. Something about a Farm Witch open house. Patrick can’t remember. David told him hours and hours ago. And he would have gone too, but he had baseball. And then after baseball Stevie showed up with beer. And here they are. He wishes David was here. David always feels so nice when Patrick is drunk. Not that he’s drunk. Because he isn’t. He just likes it when David is around to take care of him when he is.
“David will be home soon,” Stevie snickers in his ear. “And you are definitely drunk.”
“M’not,” Patrick argues half-heartedly. He vaguely wonders when Stevie became a mind reader. He thinks about it and realizes he doesn’t really care. Then he sits up and looks at Stevie with wide eyes. “You know who has the best dick?”
Stevie rolls her eyes. “I swear to God, if you say David—“
“David,” Patrick sighs dreamily. Stevie groans. “It’s so nice. Like, it’s just right. And he keeps it so clean.”
Stevie snorts and sputters, covering her mouth with her hand. “Asshole! You made beer come out my nose.”
Patrick may be drunk (he’s not, but whatever), but he still has manners. He grabs a handful of tissues from the box on the table and hands them to Stevie. She glares at him from over the fistful of tissues.
“You’re so gross. Don’t talk to me about your boyfriend’s dick!”
Patrick shrugs. “Why not? You’ve seen it. You know what I’m talking about.”
Stevie drops the soggy pile of tissues on the coffee table. “You actually want to have this conversation?”
“I just want you to admit that it’s a nice dick!” Patrick says far louder than he meant to. And why is he waving his hands around?
“Okay,” Stevie says, narrowing her eyes at him. “I will admit that, of all the dicks I’ve seen—and there’s been a fair few—that David’s is like, top ten.”
Patrick smiles and goes to take another sip. When did his beer get empty? He’s about to complain when the door opens and David lets himself into the apartment.
“Hey,” he says, setting his keys in the dish by the door.
“David!” Patrick shouts, smiling upside down over the back of the couch at David. “Hi! You’re back!”
“Mmm. I am,” David says, making his way to the couch. “And you’re drunk.”
“Pffft. Am not.”
“Whatever you say, honey.”
“We were like, just talking ‘bout you, babe.”
David grimaces. “Oh God.”
“No! S’good! You have a pice nenis. A mice penis.” Patrick shakes his head. “A nice penis.”
David’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly. He looks back and forth between Patrick and Stevie. Then he shakes his head. “I knew it was a mistake to leave you two unsupervised. Stevie, do you want a ride home?”
“Nah,” Stevie says, pushing herself up on unsteady feet. “Or maybe. Yeah.”
David leans down and presses a kiss to Patrick’s forehead. “You smell nice,” Patrick murmurs. David frowns.
“I smell like a bale of hay and those peanut butter things. And you—” he sniffs tentatively, “—smell like the recycling bin at a sports bar. Go have a shower and brush your teeth while I take Stevie home.”
“Maybe if you’re good, he’ll show you his penis when he gets back,” Stevie laughs.
Patrick looks hopefully up at David. “Will you?”
“Oh my God. Go, let’s go,” David says, shooing Stevie toward the door. “You,” he turns and points at Patrick. “Shower.”
Patrick gets up and wanders toward the bathroom. “Don’t show Stevie your penis, though,” he muses as he turns on the bathroom light. “It’s only top ten for her.”