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"Come on," Pete said, practically bouncing on his heels. "It's going to be great. Big house party, off campus, tons of people"
"That sounds like hell," Barkovitch said flatly.
"It'll be fun!" Pete insisted. "Ray's coming, right Ray?"
Ray nodded from where he was sitting on Pete's bed. "I said I'd go."
"See? And Stebbins and Harkness are in too. You guys should come." Pete looked at Collie, who was leaning against the doorframe. "What do you say?"
Collie shrugged, smiling easily. "Yeah, sure. Sounds fun."
Barkovitch's hand went to his neck, scratching absently. "I don't do parties."
"You're coming," Collie said, not a question.
"Am I?"
"Yeah. You are." Collie's smile widened. "Come on, it'll be good to get out for a night."
Barkovitch scratched harder at his neck, then forced his hand down. "Fine. But when it sucks, I'm saying I told you so."
"Deal."
The party was exactly as terrible as Barkovitch had predicted.
The off-campus house was packed with too many bodies, music too loud, air thick with sweat and cheap beer. Strobe lights flashed in the living room where people were attempting to dance. The kitchen was a disaster zone of red solo cups and spilled drinks.
Pete dove right in, immediately striking up conversations with people he half knew. Ray followed him like a shadow, looking only slightly uncomfortable.
Barkovitch, Collie, Stebbins, and Harkness found a spot near the wall, all of them holding drinks they weren't really drinking.
"This is fun," Harkness said, sarcasm dripping.
"Thrilling," Stebbins agreed.
Barkovitch scratched at his neck, feeling the familiar itch that came with being somewhere he didn't want to be. "I hate this."
"You hate everything," Collie said, but he was smiling.
"Not everything. Just loud, crowded places full of drunk idiots."
"So parties."
"Yeah. Parties."
Collie looked vaguely overwhelmed but was making an effort to seem like he was having a good time. Barkovitch noticed he always noticed when Collie was pushing himself to be social even when he didn't really want to be.
Art and Hank appeared through the crowd, Art grinning and Hank looking like he'd rather be literally anywhere else.
"This place is insane!" Art shouted over the music.
"That's one word for it," Barkovitch muttered.
It started innocently enough.
A girl approached their little group pretty, confident, clearly a few drinks in. Her eyes landed on Collie and stayed there.
"Hey," she said, leaning in close to be heard over the music. "I haven't seen you around before."
Collie blinked. "Oh, uh, yeah. I don't usually come to these things."
"That's a shame." She stepped closer, touching his arm. "You should come out more often."
Collie nodded politely. "Maybe."
She laughed at something he said something that wasn't even funny and Barkovitch felt his stomach drop.
His hand went to his neck, scratching. He forced it down. Scratched again.
The girl was standing way too close now, practically pressed against Collie's side. She said something else, and Collie laughed that nervous, sweet laugh he did when he was being polite.
Barkovitch's fingers dug into his neck hard enough to hurt.
"Barko," Collie called over, waving him closer. "Come meet uh, sorry, what was your name?"
"Jess."
"Come meet Jess!"
Barkovitch stared at him. Was he serious? Did Collie genuinely not realize what was happening here?
Of course he didn't. Collie was completely oblivious.
Barkovitch's hand tightened around his cup until the plastic crumpled slightly. His other hand was at his neck again, scratching hard enough to leave marks.
Across the group, Stebbins caught his eye and sighed. He muttered something to Harkness, who glanced over at Barkovitch and winced.
"Here we go," Stebbins said quietly.
The girl Jess leaned even closer to Collie, saying something directly into his ear. Collie laughed again, and Barkovitch felt something cold and sharp twist in his chest.
He couldn't watch this anymore.
He downed the rest of his drink in one go and slammed the empty cup onto a nearby counter.
"Hope she's at least half your GPA, Collie," he snapped.
Collie turned, confused. "What?"
"Never mind." Barkovitch stalked off, jaw tight, hand already back at his neck, scratching furiously.
He found the others in the living room Art was trying to convince Hank to dance, and Pete was talking Ray's ear off about something.
Barkovitch stood there, radiating hostility, and scratched at his neck until it stung.
Art noticed him and grinned. "Hey man, you okay?"
"I'm fine," Barkovitch bit out.
"You sure? Because you look"
"I said I'm fine."
Art's smile faltered. "Okay, jeez."
Hank stumbled slightly, bumping into Barkovitch's shoulder. Barkovitch glared at him. "Maybe use your eyes next time, genius."
"Sorry," Hank muttered.
Harkness appeared, clearly trying to lighten the mood. "You know, if you're jealous, you could just"
"I'm not fucking jealous," Barkovitch snapped, voice sharp enough to cut. "Why don't you mind your own business for once?"
The group went quiet. Even the music seemed to fade for a second.
Stebbins stepped forward, voice calm but cutting. "Stop being a bitch. If you're mad at Collie, that's between you two. Doesn't mean you get to take it out on the rest of us."
Barkovitch glared at him, embarrassed and defensive and still scratching at his neck. "Whatever."
He turned and pushed through the crowd, heading for the back door.
The porch was quieter, at least. Cooler. Barkovitch leaned against the railing, arms crossed tight over his chest.
His neck was raw from scratching, but he couldn't seem to stop. The itch was there, persistent and maddening, and his fingers kept finding their way back to it.
"You okay?"
Barkovitch didn't turn. He knew that voice.
Collie came up beside him, leaning on the railing, all easy smiles like nothing was wrong. "You seem kinda pissed."
"I'm fine," Barkovitch said, taking a drag.
"Right." Collie watched him for a moment. "What was that back there? With the girl?"
"Nothing."
"Didn't seem like nothing."
Barkovitch's hand went to his neck again. Scratch, scratch. "Maybe don't let strangers drool on you next time."
Collie looked genuinely confused. "...She was drooling?"
Barkovitch groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jesus Christ, Collie."
"What? She was just being friendly."
"Friendly?" Barkovitch laughed sharp and humorless. "She was two seconds away from asking your shirt size."
Collie blinked, then laughed awkwardly. "You're exaggerating."
"Yeah, well, maybe I don't like people flirting with you," Barkovitch blurted before he could stop himself.
The words hung in the air between them.
Collie froze. "...Oh."
"Forget it," Barkovitch muttered, scratching at his neck harder.
"Hey." Collie's hand caught his wrist, gently pulling it away from his neck. "Stop doing that. You're gonna make it bleed."
Barkovitch looked down at where Collie was holding his wrist. "I'm fine."
"You're not." Collie didn't let go. "And you don't have to worry about that."
"I'm not worried," Barkovitch said, but his voice came out rougher than intended.
Collie gave him a half smile. "Sure you're not."
He stepped closer close enough that Barkovitch could feel the warmth radiating off him. One hand came up to the side of Barkovitch's neck, thumb brushing his jaw, careful to avoid the scratched skin. His fingers wrapped around gently, then applied just a little pressure not much, but enough. Just enough that Barkovitch's breath caught.
Collie knew exactly what he was doing.
"You know why you don't have to worry?"
Barkovitch swallowed hard, feeling the pressure against his throat. "Why?"
Collie's voice dropped to a whisper. "Because no one could ever make me feel the way you do."
Barkovitch's pulse spiked. His hand twitched toward his neck again, but Collie caught it.
"Stop," Collie said softly. "I mean it. You don't need to do that."
"It's a habit."
"I know. But you're okay. I'm here."
Collie leaned in closer, voice lower, teasing. "You know that, right? That you're stuck with me?"
Barkovitch couldn't find words. His throat felt tight.
Collie's smile widened. "You're my bitch. No one else's."
"I'm not a bitch," Barkovitch managed.
"Yeah, you are. But you're mine."
The air between them was charged, electric. Collie was so close now, and Barkovitch's brain was short circuiting.
Then Collie closed the distance completely, kissing him hard. It wasn't soft or sweet it was messy and desperate, Collie's hand tightening on his neck just slightly, making Barkovitch gasp against his mouth. Barkovitch's hands fisted in Collie's shirt, pulling him closer, and Collie pressed him back against the railing.
It was heated and rough and exactly what Barkovitch needed confirmation that Collie was his, that this was real, that he didn't need to worry about some random girl at a party.
Collie's tongue swept into his mouth and Barkovitch made a sound he'd deny later, fingers digging into Collie's shoulders.
Then the door burst open.
"Hey, you two oh shit!" Pete's voice rang out. "Guys, they're fucking out here!"
"We're not" Barkovitch jerked back, face burning red, but Collie's hand was still on his neck.
Ray appeared behind Pete, trying not to laugh. "They're definitely not fucking."
"Could've fooled me," Pete said, grinning like an idiot. "That was intense."
"Ewww," Art's voice called from behind them, clearly teasing. "Get a room!"
"We were just" Collie started, but he was grinning too.
"Yeah, yeah," Pete interrupted. "Party sucks anyway. We're going to the bowling alley. You guys coming or should we give you five more minutes?"
"Thank God," Barkovitch muttered.
Collie just laughed and grabbed his hand, interlacing their fingers. "Yeah, we're coming."
The bowling alley was a dive neon lights flickering, greasy smell of fries in the air, half the lanes broken. It was perfect.
They got shoes and a lane, and everyone immediately started arguing about teams. Art insisted on keeping score even though he was terrible at math. Hank kept getting gutter balls and blaming the lane.
Barkovitch sat close to Collie, not saying much, just existing in the comfortable chaos of their group.
His neck still itched, but he kept his hands in his lap.
Collie kept glancing at him, amused. He finally leaned over and murmured, "Still jealous?"
Barkovitch gave him a look. "Shut up."
Collie grinned and bumped his shoulder. "Yeah, thought so."
It was soft and stupid and kind of perfect.
When it was Barkovitch's turn to bowl, he stood and immediately felt Collie's hand on his lower back just for a second, grounding.
He got a strike. The group erupted in cheers and mock outrage.
"That's bullshit," Pete yelled. "He's been sandbagging this whole time!"
"Or maybe you just suck," Barkovitch shot back, but he was almost smiling.
Collie was definitely smiling.
Later, back at the dorm, Collie dropped his keys on the desk and turned to Barkovitch with a small smile.
"For the record," he said, "you're cute when you're jealous."
"I wasn't jealous," Barkovitch muttered, but his hand was already going to his neck.
Collie caught it before he could scratch. "Yes, you were."
"Fine. Maybe a little."
"A lot."
"Shut up."
Collie laughed and pulled him closer. "Make me."
So Barkovitch kissed him. Hard. Until neither of them could think about parties or strangers or anything else.
When they broke apart, Collie's fingers found the raw patch on Barkovitch's neck, tracing it gently.
"We should put something on this," he said quietly.
"Later," Barkovitch said, pulling him back in.
Collie smiled against his mouth. "Yeah. Later."
They stumbled toward the bed, hands already pulling at clothes, and the rest of the night was theirs alone.