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“You two went to IKEA together?”
“Yeah. What about it? Kenny has never been, and we needed a new coffee table because someone,” — Kyle flares over at the someone in question, sipping on their drink with a mischievous smirk — “broke ours.”
“It totally was not my fault,” Kenny places their drink on the round, wooden high top they sit at. “It was Kyle’s. The table had all his books all over it!”
“That doesn’t even make sense!” Kyle argues with his roommate. He returns his eyes to Stan to say, “they were kicking their feet, and it fell apart.”
Stan raises his eyebrows. Kyle does not seem as angry as he should. He instead seems amused. He knows for a fact when he broke his globe last year, that was not the case for himself. The globe was much less expensive as well.
“I was only kicking because Kyle wouldn’t go get ice cream with me, so it’s basically his fault,”
“Kenny! That’s such bullshit, and you know it.”
“You promised me ice cream that night!”
“I said maybe we could get ice cream later, and even if I did promise, that doesn’t mean you have the right to break our table!”
“It was an accident! Collateral damage for the pain you’ve caused me,” Kenny says, trying to be stern, though their eyes, mouth and voice betrays them. “You should have to pay for damages, really, and buy me an ice cream for the emotional stress you’ve caused me.”
“Oh, you’re so full of bull shit,” Kyle waves them off, shaking his head as he grabs onto his drink.
Stan takes the chance in the halted conversation to say what’s on his mind: “you guys are such a couple.”
They both dart their eyes over in shock, each of them silent, as the background noise of the bar floods their ears. Maybe they heard him wrong. Kyle clears his throat, and says, “excuse me?”
“You two are such a couple. Or act like one. You may as well date at this point so you can at least get the benefits.”
Silence again.
Then, a nervous chuckle from Kenny.
“What are you talking about?” they ask.
“You went to IKEA together,” Stan says slowly, in order to get them to understand, “to buy furniture for your shared apartment of what — Two years?”
Kyle gulps his drink. He does not dare to look at Kenny.
“Three.”
“Oh. Even better.”
It's an awkward silence that Kyle has not felt with these two people since he can remember. These two people, who he has been best friends with for ages. How can this possibly be so awkward?
Another nervous chuckle comes from Kyle.
“You’re fucking insane, dude,” Kyle says. “We are the farthest thing from a couple. I watch Kenny trim their disgusting toe nails, all the time, and have literally cleaned up their piss in our bathroom when they’ve been high or drunk.”
Kenny laughs, this one more genuine as they set they drink down with a thud. They eye Kyle, finally, and tag along, “ yeah, I’ve been in the same room as Kyle when he’s taken a shit, and he’s literally thrown up on me,”
“When I was drunk,” Kyle clarifies. “But yeah, Stan, we have both seen each other at our worst. Our living situation is in no way romantic. Believe me.”
Stan shifts his eyes between the two. Nervous energy still gravitates off of them; the two using less eye contact than before. He originally meant it as a joke, but seeing how they still took it, it says a lot.
“ Ri-ght,” he says with two syllables instead of one. “You know I was just joking. Like… basically just implying you two are an old married couple type, right?”
They both nervously chuckle again.
“Yeah, of course,” Kyle says. “Obviously.”
“I definitely knew. Maybe Kyle didn’t.”
“I definitely did,”
Kenny smirks. They shrug. “I know you’re not always great on picking up that shit. Metaphors and all. You take things so literally,” they say. “You were probably hoping this would be your chance to get into my pants.”
“Oh, yeah — that was my exact thought.”
“Knew it.”
“I was being sarcastic, moron!”
Stan rolls his eyes as the two bicker again. They may not know it, but Stan swears they are dating, just without any of the perks.
-
After arriving home, the sweet smell of liquor on their breath, Kenny heads straight for the refrigerator for a beer. Kyle, behind them, still taking off his shoes at the doorway, shouts, “Kennedy McCormick! How many times do I have to tell you to take off your shoes,”
Kenny throws back a smile at him, holding two beers as they tremble over with two beers in hand. They stop in front of Kyle, hand him a beer, and kick off their shoes, the right shoe crashing into Kyle’s neatly arranged pair.
Kyle shakes his head, though, there is a smirk as he walks over to the couch and sinks into the couch. His eyes roam to Kenny, behind the couch, looking over with a goofy smile.
“We probably should go to bed,” Kyle says over his shoulder, taking a sip afterward despite the protest. “It’s pretty late.”
Kenny climbs over the back of the couch, tumbling onto the middle cushion, nearly spilling their beer as their knee knocks into their friend. Kyle sways back from them, craning their neck as he complains, “Kenny — Can you just be an adult for one minute?”
Kenny snickers, “How about half of a minute?”
Kyle shakes his head, takes a sip of beer, meets their amber eyes and peels the beer back. He sets it onto his thigh, analyzing Kenny and that crooked smile of theirs. His lips stretch slightly, amusement or fondness forming. He is not sure what. Everything seems a little blurry at the moment, as it always does when Stan is the designated driver for the night.
He brings his beer bottle up, turning his cheek into the neck’s edge. “What would you do without me?”
“On the contrary, what would you do without me? I do your laundry, and provide comic relief to your otherwise boring ass life.”
“It would be boring without you in it,” Kyle agrees with a solemn nod. “Though I think I could handle the laundry.”
“I’d like to see you try. It’s a lot more complicated than it appears,”
Kyle breaks into a laugh.
Kenny smiles back.
A moment passes; consisting of a set of amber and chocolate irises flickering back and forth.
Stan crosses Kenny’s mind, specifically what Stan said earlier that night. He has had a few more drinks in him since. It feels easier to approach.
“You think that laundry is one of the couple things that Stan referred to?”
Kyle raises his brows. He slacks his jaw, pupils moving in direction of his beer bottle as he scrapes the label’s corner with his thumb.
“Probably,” he murmurs before his eyes flicker to Kenny’s again. “You do clean my underwear.”
“So… what you’re saying is… he has a point?”
Kyle freezes, stunted by maybe his own implication. He wants to look away, but Kenny has him trapped. Kenny, who refuses to dismiss the notion.
“I guess… maybe, he does?”
Kenny’s mouth clamps close. Their eyes detach. They look at Kyle’s shoulder, his elbow, his thigh and socked feet, until they are staring at the ground. They speak without thinking: “maybe we should try it?”
“Huh?”
Their eyes snap to Kyle’s. Wild Kyle’s. His chocolate brown eyes wide and red eyelashes nearly brown under the dim light of the small lamp that illuminates the room.
“Maybe we kiss a little and find out,” they say, hoping that Kyle will take it as a joke, because that’s what it is, right? They are bluffing. This whole thing is a bluff. Kyle will not actually agree —
“Okay,” Kyle says. “Let’s do it.”
“Wait. Really?”
“Yeah… unless you were… joking?”
“No,” they immediately respond, unsure if the instinct of denial comes from saving Kyle's face or because they actually want to try it. “I’m - I’m down.”
Kyle laughs. Though it’s more like a hiccup. “I can’t believe we are actually doing this,” he says. His eyes soften. He looks through them, making them feel vulnerable.
Then his eyes move over their lips, and Kenny knows it’s far too late to back out. This is really happening. They are really kissing their best friend, in an attempt to see if there really is something more there. They are actually giving this a shot.
It comes all at once; the speeding heart beat and the sweaty hands. The realization that this very well could lead to something more.
They lean close; so close that they can smell the liquor on his tongue and the Old Spice deodorant that he sometimes steals. He has smelt it dozens of times before, yet, it smells slightly different now; mixed with Kyle’s natural scent, after a day’s use. It smells somehow better than it does, just on the stick, before use.
They feel his breath, then his lips; warm and full. Kyle’s nice, full lips which they have always admired from afar. They referred to them, all the time, as blow job lips, never actually wondering what they would feel like around his dick until now.
Kyle tilts his head, opens his mouth, slips his tongue inside to taste the roof of their mouth and burns their tongue.
It’s languid. They keep their hands to themselves. It’s short but it’s forever, trapped in a moment, until they break apart. Starting at each other, Kenny wonders what to think, or say. They want to kiss him again. Longer, deeper, but they do not move. They are frozen, under Kyle’s chocolate eyes and slightly wet lips.
Kyle blinks, somehow unlocking himself from the paralysis, and laughs. He shakes his head, licking his lips and pushing strands of red hair from his eyes.
“So. That was … weird.”
“Totally weird,” Kenny affirms without hesitation.
Because it was right?
“At least now we know,” Kenny adds.
Kyle nods.
“Totally. We know that it would be weird — that we are just not a couple,”
“Totally,” they repeat.
The night ends this way, each retreating to their own bed room, the presence of one another still on each other's tongues and minds. Kyle tries to forget about the feeling that fledged through his body; the electricity that flared between them, but his mind runs ablaze.
It was weird, he tells himself. It was a bad weird, he repeats. It’s Kenny, he reminds himself, over and over again, until It’s Kenny, begins to feel more like a positive thing than negative.
He reminds himself of all the disgusting things he has seen them do. He rolls over, back and forth, thinking of every argument they’ve had.
We would fight all the time , he tells him to himself. It would be a mess. It would ruin our friendship. I would have to find a new roommate.
Despite the logic though, he feels torn because that kiss sparked something inside him he has not felt in a long time. Something he’s been searching for. Something he is afraid he will not find again.
-
The next couple of days are awkward. They avoid one another, and when they are around each other, they are rigid. It’s as though they are complete strangers; wary of one another and the pits that form in their stomach because of each other.
Eventually, Kyle grows tired of it. He suggests they talk, and Kenny agrees, yet avoids him at every cost. They leave earlier in the morning, and stay out longer at night. They pick up an extra 24 hour; gone for most of the week.
When Kenny is home, they are sleeping, or pretending to be.
Kyle has very much had it, and decides one morning when they return from a 24 hour, that he will demand them to talk.
He barges into their room, marches to their bed, and pulls the covers up. Kenny’s wide amber eyes dart over to him. They try to pull the blankets back over them, but Kyle is stronger. He holds them back, forcing them to look at him.
“We are talking.”
“Kyle, I’m tired,”
“I don’t care. You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, standing over them with his knuckles turning white.
Kenny’s lips twitch to a frown. They swallow before letting out a jagged breath. Slowly, they push themselves up, propping their back against the wall and pulling their knees up.
“Maybe I have.”
Kyle rolls his eyes. He lets go of the comforter, instead throwing his hands up in anguish as he begins to pace around the small room. He kicks a t-shirt from the floor and scoffs, “you could at least clean your room if you’re going to spend so much time in it.”
“That's really what you wanna talk about?”
“ No,” his eyes jump to Kenny.
They stare at him, dipping their pointed chin down. Their strong jawline makes this much harder, along with their tousled blonde hair and freckled, button-up nose.
Kenny blinks.
“So… you got me. What do you want from me, Kyle?”
Kyle blinks back. He feels frozen, being asked this stupid question because isn’t it obvious? Who wouldn’t want Kenny? Sweet, considerate Kenny who folds his laundry and makes him pancakes with whipped cream smiley faces on them. (Along with boobs and dicks as well.)
For once in his life, he is speechless. He cannot say a word. He shakes his head, clucks his tongue, and averts his eyes. He tries to restart, but fails.
Their eyes click again.
He’s moving before he knows what he is even doing. He lunges forward, grabs them by the strong jawline and locks their lips together.
It’s what he wants ; what he has been waiting for.
Kenny grabs onto his hip and back, grasping onto him for dear life as they pull him down onto the bed with them. Kyle’s body goes limp, falling into the bed, his knee between Kenny’s thighs. The feeling is like before but stronger. He falls apart, the electricity between them becoming the guiding force that directs their actions.
He wants more, more, more as he opens his mouth wider. His body falls. His chest against Kenny’s. His hips grinding without any thought.
Then, suddenly, Kenny is turning him over, but instead of being under him, on the mattress, he is under them on the floor.
His butt and lower back ache. Kenny’s eyes become wide. They immediately usher out an apology as they roll themselves off of him, onto the floor next to him. Kyle turns his head over; the incoming light from the window lights up the under eye bags they have.
“Ah, fuck,” they prop an elbow against the floor, “sorry, Ky, I’m just so tired.”
Kyle props an elbow against the floor, staring over. He worries he somehow fucked this up; that he did something wrong. He doesn’t have it in him to wait.
“Kenny, what are we doing?”
“I think… laying on the floor,”
“I mean. You know what I mean,” he narrows his eyes fondly on them.
Kenny swallows a breath. They avert their gaze to the carpet as their fingers prickle along it. He focuses on his tousled, blonde hair; more of a mess than before.
He watches Kenny stumble for words, and cuts in again with: “ever since we kissed, you’re all I can think about, Kenny.”
Their eyes click to his.
He swallows.
“That kiss — that kiss was incredible. It’s the best kiss I’ve had in — ever, ” Kyle declares, his pupils dilating as he speaks. “I lied when I said it was weird. The truth is… I really, really enjoyed it. I enjoy you, Kenny. All the time.”
Kenny’s eyes light up. They blink a couple of times. Kyle’s heart curls up into his stomach as he awaits an answer.
“I feel the same, Kyle,” Kenny whispers, as if the words may escape through the window. “Everything you said. I enjoy you. So much. All the time.”
Kyle’s lips spread out.
“Will you go on a date with me? Right now?” Kenny asks. “And sleep with me tonight?”
Kyle snickers at this. Only Kenny would ask him to sleep in his bed with them as a first date, and he loves it. They crawl into bed together, cuddle against one another and fall asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.
-
They sit with Stan, at a bar in Denver. Live music plays. Their drinks are empty. Kyle and Kenny lean into one another, giggling and stealing kisses.
Stan watches with annoyance; feeling both left out and grossed out by the outlandish PDA, especially feeling annoyed because Kyle always ragged on PDA before Kenny.
He sighs into his drink.
At least he isn’t the designated driver tonight.