Fic: Bad Tattoos and Worse Ideas (2/2)
Feb. 15th, 2009 02:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
piecesof_reesesPart 1
An hour later, they’re in the same position.
“What?” Alex squawks. “You want me to what?”
“It’s not that complicated,” Marshall says impatiently.
“I know it’s not that complicated! That’s not the issue I have with it!”
“Look, it’s just going to be, like, an accidental swipe.”
“Yeah, except not accidental,” Alex feels he needs to point out.
“Alex, would you shut up for a minute? God, it’s like trying to teach my sister math. It’s just an insignificant gesture meant to convey interest of the sexual nature to your target. I mean, prey. I mean, victim. I mean—well, you know what I mean.”
Wow, this really is not reassuring Alex. At all.
“Hold up, let me get this straight. So, you want me to reach over for something on the other side of Cash, in the process letting my right arm drape down like a dead animal, and have the fingers of my right hand grope Cash’s crotch?”
“It sounds so dirty when you put it like that,” Marshall grumbles. “And you’re not technically groping him. There is no grasping involved.”
Alex is fairly certain the blood vessels in his face are about to explode.
“It’s just—“ Marshall makes a slight movement in the air with his hand, officially traumatizing Alex for life—“a brush, kind of. Very casual. You can even apologize afterward, if it makes you feel better.”
“I don’t think anything is going to make me feel better,” Alex says bleakly.
“You’re being so melodramatic. Unnecessarily so.”
“Dude, can you stop it with the big vocabulary words? You aren’t actually my teacher.”
“What are you talking about? I’m tutoring you in the ways of men.” Marshall grins.
“Oh my god, shut up. And none of this is going to help me, anyway.”
“Are you kidding me? The Heated Stare, Neck Caress, and Crotch Swipe are all proven methods of seduction, and they’re patented! By me! The creator.”
“Don’t quit your day job,” Alex cracks weakly.
“I hate to break it to you, but you’re really not as funny as you think you are.”
“Cash laughs at me,” Alex says.
“At you being the operative phrase.”
“Whatever. I still can’t believe you told me to compliment Cash’s tattoo! He would never buy that. I mean, I tell him practically every day how stupid his tattoos are.”
“Tattoos are a sign of his masculinity and strength. You’re making Cash feel more powerful and more in control of the situation, which he needs to feel if you’re going to get anywhere near his crotch. You need to make him feel like bumping uglies was his idea, not yours. Cash is just that kind of dude.”
“Uh huh. Okay,” Alex says skeptically. “Anyway, when am I actually going to do any of this to him? I can’t exactly try to grope him in the middle of English class.”
“Ms. Stevens might appreciate it,” Marshall says, smirking.
Alex rolls his eyes.
“Just find some neutral ground. Go to the movies, or something. Isn’t there a new slasher film playing in theaters?”
“I don’t know if watching massive amounts of gore is really going to set the kind of mood we’re looking for.”
Marshall actually starts laughing at him. “Dude, trust me on this one.”
“Uh. Wow. Okay. So, slasher movies get Cash hot?”
“You are such a girl, dude,” Marshall says.
“I am not!” Alex squawks, and oops. Apparently the librarian has really had enough.
“Out of here! Both of you! My word, you’ve been disrupting the learning atmosphere for nearly the entire period!”
* * *
“So, Cash, do you want to go to the movies this weekend?” Alex asks as he shovels out tator tots.
“No.”
* * *
“Really, Cash, c’mon. Are you busy or something?” Alex says while laying out the hot dogs.
“I guess I’m just not in the mood. Plus I might have homework.”
* * *
“You’ve been working way too hard, Cash! I really think you need to take a break,” Alex says in the middle of slicing the pizza.
“Doing what? Watching a movie?”
“Uh…”
“Seriously, Alex, ask someone else.”
* * *
“I don’t want to ask Johnson and Ian because they’ll just be all gross and couple-y in front of me, and Marshall has a date,” Alex whines while baking the pasta.
“Really? You really want to go that badly?”
“Uh, who wouldn’t want to see Blood and Guts IX in 3D?” Besides him, of course.
“Well, huh. I guess you do have a point.”
Alex mentally pumps a fist in victory. “Also, dude, I just miss hanging out with you. Can’t I spend some time with my friend?”
Alex can see, literally see a snide comment hovering on the edge of Cash’s tongue like “don’t be a fucktard,” or “are you pms-ing?” but nothing comes out. He sighs in disappointment.
“So, tomorrow at seven?” Alex asks.
“Yeah, okay.”
* * *
“Too preppy,” his sister rejects. She pulls her lollipop out of her mouth and gives Alex a disdainful look. “Where the hell do you shop, Ralph Lauren? Why don’t you own any decent clothing?”
“Would you stop with the smartass comments, Miss I-Singlehandedly-Keep-Aeropostale-In-Business? Ugh, what about this shirt?” It’s black and plain, collared.
“I thought you didn’t want Cash to know this was a date,” Callie says.
“I don’t.”
“Well, then.”
“Fine, what about this?” Alex pulls out a hoodie from PacSun.
“It’s really colorful.”
“So?”
She sighs. “I guess it’s the best you can do. At least Cash is used to how stupid you look in your clothing, so you won’t be giving him any nasty surprise, or anything.”
“Whatever. And get out, I need to change.”
She flounces out, and Alex pulls a face at her receding back. Shit, it’s 6:55; Cash will be here in fifteen minutes. Unless he’s on time for once in his life, in which case Alex really needs to hurry.
He shoves the hoodie on, wincing at how staticky his straightened hair feels. Fuck, he looks like absolute crap. Maybe if he puts some more product in? Or re-straightens his hair? Or maybe just changes his outfit altogether?
The doorbell rings, and Alex jumps. Hell, he can go naked. It’d certainly make a statement to Cash if he answered the door without any clothes on.
He rolls his eyes at himself in the mirror before running halfway down the stairs, realizing he doesn’t want to look too excited for this non-date, and then walking the rest of the way down. He can hear his sister laughing at him from upstairs.
“Hey,” Cash says after Alex opens the door. “You ready to go?”
Cash’s hair is rumpled and he has bags under his eyes. A wrinkled t-shirt is hanging off his frame, and those shoes have definitely seen better days. Alex is kind of regretting spending so much time worrying about his appearance.
“Yeah, dude. Let’s, uh, go.”
The drive there is spent in an awkward silence that’s unusual for them. Alex can feel the minutes slipping away from him, and he desperately wracks his brain for something to say.
“So. Um. What’ve you been doing today?”
“Nothing much,” Cash says shortly.
“You, uh, you looking forward to the movie?”
Cash cracks a smile. “Yeah. It’s always fun to see people getting killed.”
“…Right. Um…” Unbidden, an image of Marshall looking very severe surfaces in his mind. “Have I ever mentioned how cool your thirtizzle tattoo is?”
“Uh. No.” Cash takes his eyes off the road to give him a quizzical look. “Although you have mentioned how much you hate it.”
“Well, you know. I was, uh.” Dammit, Marshall. “I was jealous!”
“Jealous?” Cash asks skeptically.
“Yeah. Because it’s so, like, manly.”
“…Okay.”
They lapse back into silence. Alex scowls ferociously at the dashboard. This isn’t fucking working at all! He and Marshall are so going to have a talk when he gets back from this disaster.
* * *
Alex isn’t sure how he got to this point in his life, but he’s pretty sure that nothing he has ever done—aside from maybe that incident with the neighbors’ cat—could have warranted this kind of torture.
He doesn’t even know how Cash got started! One minute they were getting their drinks and popcorn like normal people, and some time between then and now, Cash started talking. Which, sure, Alex is totally in favor of if there was a choice between Cash talking and Cash sulking, but—wow. This is really not what he bargained for.
“They’re just a horribly mismatched couple, dude, don’t you agree? I mean, come on! Ryan Ross is practically a girl, only without the vagina. If you’re gonna be gay, you might as well go all out and date someone who acts like he actually has a dick! And Ross uses all that disgusting eyeliner and eyeshadow! He could pass for some preteen girl in middle school! Hell, elementary school, even. What the fuck does Brendon see in him?”
“Um.” Is there a right answer to that question? Is Cash even looking for an answer? “No?”
“That’s what I’m saying, man! How the hell could Brendon choose that over me? I mean, seriously? Ross is all skin and bones! Sex with that retard has got to be awfully pointy, and not in the good way.”
Alex wonders if it’s too late for him to pretend that he’s got some pressing appointment elsewhere.
“I could fucking scalp that bastard. Always batting his eyelinered eyes and pouting his lip-glossed lips, he’s like a fucking tranny. Fucking shameless. You know, what the fuck ever. If that’s what Brendon’s looking for, some guy who’s more pussy than man, then fine, they’re a great fucking match! I hope he doesn’t scream when he reaches down and feels a dick. Because, I mean, I would.”
Alex stares desperately at the previews. Some heartwarming movie about a dog, two cats, and a moose is coming out on June 4th. He should mark his calendar; Callie might be interested.
“I just don’t get it! Brendon and I would be so much better together! We could hang out and get stupid tattoos…Have you seen those piano keys on his arm? He gets made fun of for that just as much as you make fun of me for my thirtizzle tattoo! We could bond over that.”
“I said that your thirtizzle tattoo was cool,” Alex says faintly, but Cash just talks right over him.
“I just know we could have had such an awesome future together. We could make fucking music together! Did you know that Brendon plays about a million instruments?”
“Yeah, you’ve only told me about fifty times,” Alex mutters under his breath.
“And we could play video games together! I’ve heard that Brendon kicks butt at Guitar Hero. Just hours of playing video games together, man. It would be as close to Nirvana as possible.”
Alex stares despairingly at the movie theater ceiling.
“We have all the same interests, DeLeon, it’s crazy. It’s like we were made for each other!”
“OH, HEY, MOVIE STARTING,” Alex almost shouts. “Whoops, we better be quiet now.”
“Oh, hey, yeah.” Cash shoves his special 3D glasses on, settles down into the seat, and watches the screen with a rapt expression.
Alex puts his own 3D glasses on reluctantly. It’s going to be two long fucking hours.
* * *
“Dude, wow.” Cash is watching him with an expression that’s some cross of amazed and impressed. Alex isn’t going to lie, he’s had dreams about having that expression directed toward him, but this really isn’t the situation he was thinking about. For one thing, there would be less clothes, and hopefully a bed. There is definitely no bed here.
“Granlrgfh,” Alex manages before heaving again.
Cash follows the line of greenish-yellow vomit with his eyes, still looking admiring. “Wow, man, it’s been like fifteen minutes, and you’re still going strong.”
Alex makes a face at him, but it probably just looks like another grimace brought on from the vomiting.
“Dude, why didn’t you tell me you had such a problem with gore? I mean, Blood and Guts IX has a body count of 45 people, and their guts all jump out at you in 3D. I think it’d be pretty obvious you’d throw up.”
Alex shrugs miserably, face pressed against the toilet seat. He is so past caring about hygiene.
“And this movie was your choice! You’re so fucking stupid, Alex. Why’d you choose it if you knew you’d hurl?”
Because you wanted to watch it, Alex thinks sullenly, but doesn’t dare say. And he thought he could maybe handle it. He didn’t account for the 3D, though.
“Guess I forgot,” Alex croaks. His stomach feels marginally more stable, so he stands up and reaches for the paper towels.
“Man,” Cash tsks, shaking his head. He wets a paper towel in the sink, and reaches out to gently wipe Alex’s cheek. Alex leans toward the touch dizzily, and shuts his eyes.
Worst fucking idea ever.
* * *
After one long, frustrating, fucking terrible week, it’s Monday again. Which means corndogs. Again. Alex thinks of the gray, frozen packages, and shudders. But no. Ice is a very good thing to visualize right now. Alex is ice. He is emotionless. He is as smooth as a fucking icicle.
“Dude, what the hell is up with you?” Marshall asks, walking faster to catch up with him.
Alex turns his nose up, pointedly ignoring Marshall, and speeds up his pace. After that torturous Saturday night, Alex is never listening to Marshall again.
“C’mon, man, you’re acting like my sister when she’s pms-ing. Did something go wrong, or whatever?”
“Did something go wrong?” Alex whirls around and hisses at Marshall. “Uh, yeah, I’d say something went wrong. I’d say everything went wrong.”
“Well, then, tell me what happened,” Marshall says reasonably.
Alex sighs. He puts his hands on his hips, before remembering that his sister told him it made him look like a lesbian. He takes them off and crosses his arms instead. He cocks his chin out at Marshall.
Marshall is looking at him confusedly. “Uh, is this, like, a dance, or something? Should I be copying you?”
“No, this is not a dance!” Alex throws his hands up in exasperation, and then glares when Marshall mirrors him. “I was being angry.”
“Oh. No wonder I was confused.”
“Yeah, fuck you.”
“Dude, just tell me what happened.”
Alex pouts. He hates it when he pouts, usually, but right now he is just so frustrated he doesn’t fucking care.
“The date sucked,” he says.
“Well, yeah, I kind of gathered that much.” Marshall raises his eyebrow at him.
“No, I mean, really sucked. Do you know what we talked about the entire time? Or, huh, I guess I shouldn’t have said ‘we’ when it was really only Cash monologuing.” Alex pauses for dramatic effect. “About Brendon Urie. He seriously went on for hours.”
Marshall winces. “Well, you know. That is kind of expected. He’s been crazy for that guy for years now. He’s going to need a bit of time to get over it. You just need to work through it.”
“Yeah, maybe I could have worked through it if I wasn’t puking at the time.”
“Puking?”
“Apparently, gore doesn’t agree with my stomach.”
Marshall sighs. “This is a setback. Hurling in front of someone you went to bang is just not a smart thing to do, Alex. You want to cultivate sexual interest, not revulsion.”
“I didn’t do it on fucking purpose!” Alex squawks.
Marshall looks long-suffering. “I guess I must have miscalculated. I wanted to find a neutral place to put Cash more at ease, but I didn’t take into account your own comfort. We’ll need to think of a different spot next time.”
“Next time?” Alex is seriously done with this. “There isn’t going to be a next time! Cash obviously isn’t interested in me, and you know what? Maybe that’s a good thing! Maybe I don’t care! He’s already proven he doesn’t have any taste in his sexual partners, anyway.”
“Uh huh. Right.”
“I’m serious, Marshall.” Alex furrows his eyebrows at Marshall.
“Okay, sure. Look, man, I get that you need to pretend to preserve at least some sense of dignity, but let’s not go overboard, all right? What do you think about going to a bowling alley for the next date?”
Alex throws his arms up again.
* * *
Ian won’t stop laughing, and Johnson looks suspiciously blank. Fuckers. Alex so needs to find some new friends. Frank, for one, seems kind of nice. Although he hangs out with people who, to be honest, look way too hardcore for Alex. Frank looks sort of hardcore too, but he has this really embarrassing giggle, so Alex figures they’re about on the same level.
“God, would you shut up already?” Alex says, annoyed.
As if in response, Ian lets out this loud snort and subsides into more giggles.
“I can’t believe you actually went to Marshall for advice on your love life,” Johnson says. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I didn’t go to him!” Alex feels he needs to clarify. “He just kind of sprung it on me!”
“And you didn’t run screaming?”
Alex shrugs sulkily.
“Man, no wonder your date was an absolute disaster,” Ian says, apparently done laughing. About time. It’s been like ten minutes.
“Marshall’s outlook on love only centers around sex,” Ian continues. “But you have a deeper connection with Cash that goes beyond sex! Of course his plan wouldn’t work for you guys.”
“Uh…Okay,” Alex says carefully.
“What you need is advice from people who are in a healthy, loving relationship!” Ian says. Johnson wraps an around his shoulders, and they smile in unison, like they’ve rehearsed it. It is actually incredibly creepy.
Alex tries to push back his rapidly mounting sense of foreboding. “So what should I do?” he asks.
Ian smiles wider. “I thought you’d never ask. Man, you should have come to us in the first place.”
* * *
Alex’s head is spinning. Or maybe it’s the room that’s spinning. Maybe it’s the world. But wait, the world is always spinning, right? Alex is so confused.
“So, did you get what I just said?” Ian asks.
Alex lets out a piteous moan.
“To recap,” Ian says, completely ignoring Alex, “you need to—“
“Hire a fucking private eye and stalk Cash 24/7?” Alex interrupts.
“No!” Ian looks gravely disappointed in him. “You just need to know more about your potential significant other’s background before trying anything! A healthy relationship can only be built on mutual knowledge and respect!”
‘Healthy relationship’ is like Ian’s buzzphrase, or something. He’s said it about twenty times in the past hour.
“Ian, dude, what you’re saying is going to take fucking years. I’ll be forty before Cash and I get anywhere!”
“You can’t rush into a healthy relationship! These things take time.”
“You and Johnson hooked up awfully quick,” Alex grumbles.
“That’s because we’re soul mates,” Ian says serenely.
“Cash and I could be soul mates,” Alex says.
Johnson lets out a snort that he tries, unsuccessfully, to turn into a cough. Whatever. Johnson’s a fucktard.
“Okay, okay, let me just get this straight,” Alex says. “First, I need to find out all of Cash’s interests, and likes and dislikes. Then I need to tell him all of mine. And then we need to spend time together. And then, after we’re more comfortable with each other, I need to find out his beliefs and moral code, which, to be honest, will probably just be a waste of time considering it’s Cash and he has no moral code, but whatever. And then I need to introduce him to my family, and vice versa. And then I need to spend time with his family to make sure that we’re compatible. And then I need to—guys, seriously, this is way overboard.”
Ian shrugs at him in a superior manner. “You want to have a healthy, durable relationship with Cash or not? Because all of those steps are key.”
“I’m not sure if I want it that much,” Alex mutters.
Ian pretends not to hear him. “So, I think the ice cream parlor would be a perfect setting for a first date.”
“Second date, technically,” Alex says.
“Not really. Your first date was so catastrophic due to Marshall’s incompetence that I think we can really write it off all together,” Ian says.
“What?” comes a voice from behind them.
Alex slowly turns around. It’s Marshall.
“What the hell is this?” Marshall asks, looking angry.
Alex tries to shrink back into his seat.
“We’re just giving DeLeon some advice on how to date Cash,” Ian says calmly.
“You are?” Marshall scoffs.
“We’re better qualified than you, anyway,” Ian says. “Tell me again how long your longest relationship lasted?”
“That’s so not relevant!” Marshall steams. “At least with my methods, DeLeon won’t still be a virgin in the coffin!”
“Hey,” Alex says half-heartedly.
“All the evidence contradicts that,” Ian says cuttingly. “Clearly, your methods weren’t getting Alex anywhere.”
Alex sinks his head onto his arms as Marshall barks out a retort. When did all of this get blown so out of proportion?
* * *
“Man, I should have known you’d choose vanilla. It’s like, the pussiest of all ice cream flavors. You’re such a girl, DeLeon,” Cash says, licking his Rocky Road ice cream with satisfaction.
Alex tries not to smile too stupidly at Cash, but he can’t help it! It feels like ages since Cash has been happy enough to insult him, that’s all. It feels familiar.
“Vanilla is a perfectly acceptable ice cream flavor. Anyway, Rocky Road practically screams overcompensation,” Alex says without any real heat.
“Dude, I don’t need to compensate for anything,” Cash says, before winking at Alex and licking up his cone lewdly.
Alex can feel his eyes glazing over.
“So, uh, what’s up?” Cash says obliviously. “You said you wanted to talk.”
“Oh, uh, yeah.” Alex fiddles with his hair.
“So, what is it?” Cash asks again.
“I just—just feel like we’ve known each other for so many years, but we don’t, like, really know each other, you know?” Alex stutters out, feeling like an idiot.
“Uh. What?” A drop of Rocky Road slides down his cone, and Cash raises it up to his face to lick it off, jutting out his elbow in the process.
His elbow knocks over this five-year-old girl’s ice cream, and it falls to the floor with a splat. She gasps, and looks ready to start bawling.
“Oh, shit, I mean, crap,” Cash says. “Sorry, man.”
The girl stares at him with big eyes and a trembling lower lip. Cash reaches down into his pocket and pulls his wallet out.
“Here, dude, have another one on me, all right? Sorry about that.”
She takes the five dollar bill quietly and gives Cash an adoring look before traipsing away. Alex is fairly sure the adoring look is mirrored on his own face.
“That was, uh, really nice of you, dude,” Alex says, smiling at Cash almost shyly.
“Huh? Oh. Yeah. I guess so.” Cash looks briefly disturbed.
Reaching his foot out into the aisle, he deftly trips a little boy, then smirks when the kid drops his ice cream cone and starts shrieking.
“That better?” Cash asks.
Alex sighs. “Never mind.”
“So, dude, what were you saying before? Some bullshit about us not knowing each other?”
“Uh. Yeah.” Alex rubs the back of his neck. “I was just, you know, thinking the other day, and I realized I didn’t know what any of your interests were,” he improvises. “So, like. What are your interests?”
“Um. My interests?” Cash looks at Alex weirdly.
“Yeah.”
“I like, uh, videogames.”
“I like videogames, too!” Alex says quickly.
“…I know. Because we know each other,” Cash says pointedly.
Alex chooses to ignore that. “What else do you like?”
“Uh, sex. Food. Sleeping. Getting tattoos,” Cash lists off in a monotone.
“That’s…cool. I like food and sleeping, too,” Alex says valiantly.
“Heh. I guess you wouldn’t know much about sex and tattoos, huh?” Cash says.
Alex reddens. “I totally know about sex! I’ve had sex before!”
Cash looks at him skeptically. “Really?”
“…No. Well, I mean, like, I guess I have, with myself…”
This is so not working out. Alex eyes Cash’s snickers grumpily, and then pushes on with an effort. What did Ian say again?
“So, uh, do you want to know my interests?” Alex asks.
“Not really, man.” Cash says.
…Right.
“Dude, you’ve been acting really weirdly lately. What’s with all this shit about us not knowing each other? Is there something you wanna tell me?” Cash asks.
He’s being surprisingly astute. Alex worries his lower lip.
“Uh, no?” His voice comes out in a squeak.
Cash gives him an unimpressed look.
Alex decides to forge on. What was next on Ian’s list? Something about parents?
“So, um, how is your mom doing?” Alex asks. “Is she still a stay-at-home mom? You know, I should go over to your house and talk to her sometime. Like, catch up.”
“Oh my god.” Cash stares at Alex, horrified.
“What? What?” Alex asks hurriedly. Does he have something in his teeth, or his hair?
“Is that what you’ve been trying to tell me? That you’re interested in my mom?”
“What?” Alex squawks.
“Oh my god, man, that’s so disgusting! I mean, I know my mom looks okay for her age, but ew! You’re fucking sick!”
“No! I mean! Oh my god!” Alex gets incoherent when he’s flustered, it’s kind of a problem.
“No? Don’t even try to front, man. ‘How is your mom doing?’ ‘I should go over to your house to catch up with her.’ Yeah, catch up with her panties, maybe,” Cash snorts.
“No, wait! That’s not what I meant!”
“That’s just so disgusting, dude, I can’t take it! Lusting over my mom! I knew you liked that Stacy’s Mom song a little too much, fuck.”
“Okay, wow, you liked Stacy’s Mom just as much as I did! It was catchy!”
“That’s no excuse for lusting after my fucking mom, you pervert!”
“I’m a pervert! Are you kidding me? Shall we go over all the sexual partners you’ve had this year? This month, even?”
“So you admit that you’ve been lusting over my mom!” Cash says triumphantly. He stands up quickly, pushing his chair out from under him with a loud squeal.
“No, I’m not! That’s—that’s not what I said,” Alex says helplessly.
“I can’t even listen to this! Holy shit. Stay away from my mom, you creep,” Cash says, fast-walking to the door.
“Cash, wait—“
He’s gone. Fuck. Alex drops his head into his hands heavily. How did Cash even--? His mom? Goddamn.
He looks over his shoulder, and notices this middle-aged woman in the next booth glaring at him. He looks at her questioningly.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, young man,” she says severely.
“What?” Alex gasps out. She must have heard Cash speaking. Her furious blue eyes bore into him, and he drops his gaze.
“Are you staring at my breasts?” the delusional woman screeches. “I’ve heard about men like you! Lusting after older women! You ought to be locked up!”
Oh god. The entire ice cream parlor is staring at him. One preteen girl has her mouth gaping open unattractively, some ice cream dripping off her lip.
“So, um, I’m just, uh, I’m just going to go now,” Alex stammers to no one in particular, and practically runs outside.
* * *
“It’s really not that funny,” Alex says patiently, way more patiently than this situation calls for, he feels.
“Really. It’s not,” he repeats.
Five minutes later, “Callie, would you get back on track?” he asks.
“What would you even call something like that?” she gasps out between giggles. “Elderphilia? That’s so gross! El em ay oh!”
“Isn’t it kind of pointless to tell me that you’re laughing your ass off when I can see that you’re laughing your ass off?” Alex asks.
“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Have you maybe considered that all your friends are too stupid to live? And that you probably are too, if you’re taking advice from them?”
“It didn’t seem like it could hurt anything,” Alex justifies lamely.
“And that’s why you’re still single,” Callie tells him.
“Oh, so you aren’t?”
Callie looks shifty.
“Callie!” Alex can’t believe this. “You’re in seventh grade! That’s impossible! Also—pointless. You don’t even really know who you like in seventh grade!”
“It’s so obvious that you’re just jealous.” She sticks her tongue out.
“Oh my god, Cal. Just…keep it above the waist, okay?”
“Duh. They teach us about STDs in sixth grade, Alex. Anyway. We weren’t talking about me. We were talking about you. Eye em oh, you should just forget your friends’ advice and go it alone. It can’t possibly be any worse, right?”
“True,” Alex says consideringly.
“Also, then if you screw it up, you’ll have no one to blame except yourself. So you’ll stop whining to me.”
Alex glares at her. “Whining? Are you kidding me? I’m never going to be able to step foot in that ice cream parlor again! I bet the employees are on the look-out for me now! ALEX DELEON: KNOWN SEX OFFENDER.”
She shrugs at him, unconcerned.
“Suck it up. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go text my bee ef. He gets insecure if he doesn’t hear from me every hour. Tee tee why el!”
* * *
“This totally just proves that you guys don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“It was a simple miscommunication! It’s in no way indicative of whether our plan was working!”
“You’re kidding me, right? This is fucking high school. Miscommunication or not, it never would have worked. Go market your plans to pathetic, divorced baby-boomers!”
“SHUT UP!” Alex slams his hands on the table and stands up.
Marshall and Ian stare at him, looking a little awed.
“Uh. Sorry,” Alex says, and sits back down. “Guys, can you just stop fighting about it? It’s my fucking love life. I should be the one making all the final decisions on it, right?”
They don’t look entirely convinced. Alex wrinkles his nose at them.
“Seriously. I’ll just handle this myself. If I can, anyway. Cash seems pretty fucking convinced that I have the hots for his mom. Which is kind of a big barrier to having a ‘healthy relationship.’”
“He can’t really think that,” Marshall says doubtfully. “I mean, Cash is kind of stupid, but honestly? You, with his mom? You totally don’t even have the balls to think about lusting after his mom.”
“That’s true,” Ian agrees. “You’re kind of a pussy about things like that. Also, his mom is so not your type.”
“She’s female, for one thing,” Marshall puts in.
“Oh my god, just shut up,” Alex says. “I need to think about how to fix this.”
* * *
Wednesday is hot dog day. Alex normally doesn’t have much of an opinion on hot dog days, because by the time he gets there, the chef already has the hot dogs all cooked, and all he and Cash need to do is put them in their buns. Right now, though, Alex is feeling kind of nervous. A little sweaty, too, which is uncomfortable when you’re wearing plastic gloves. He picks at them idly.
Cash is late. Cash is way late. Almost ten minutes now. And—Alex just doesn’t want to think about the implications of Cash being late. Like, if Cash is so disgusted he can’t even come to lunch duty because he can’t stand the sight of Alex.
Which is stupid. Really, really stupid.
Unfortunately, Cash often does stupid things, so Alex is not very reassured.
“Hey, dude,” he hears from behind him, and he jumps about a foot in the air before turning around.
“A little twitchy today?” Cash asks, amused.
“Well, no. I mean. Uh. I really don’t like your mom, Cash!” Alex blurts out. “I mean, well, I do, but, like, not in that way. I mean. I’m sure she’s a great mom!”
“But not a great lay?” Cash asks, smirking.
Alex’s cheeks feel so red they could probably be sending out their own distress signal.
“Dude, yeah. I went home, thought about it, and then realized you lusting after my mom just wasn’t really probable.”
“Right!” Alex says, nodding emphatically.
“I mean, for one thing, you totally don’t have the balls to.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Alex sputters.
“You don’t even think crushes on teachers are okay; you’re definitely not going to think about getting it on with my mom. Besides, she’s not your type.”
“How do you even know what my type is?”
Cash scoffs at him. “Are you kidding me? It’s so obvious.”
“Obvious?” Alex squeaks.
“Well, yeah. You like those lovable, stupid jackasses. Like back in sixth grade, when you were totally in love with that dude who was shoving you into lockers.”
“I just thought he had nice arms!” Alex protests.
“Uh. Yeah. Right. Anyway. He was a total jackass. You like people who have senses of humor and aren’t too smart and also aren’t very nice.” Cash shrugs casually, like he didn’t just describe himself exactly.
“Huh,” Alex says.
“Yeah.”
They continue laying out the hot dogs in silence for a few minutes. Alex eyes Cash sideways through his eyelashes. Apparently, Cash isn’t as thick as Alex thought he was. Which…could either be problematic or good.
“Hey, um, do you wanna maybe grab some smoothies on Friday? Like, after school?” he asks on a whim.
“Um, okay,” Cash says.
“My sister’s having a sleepover, and I really don’t want to be around for that,” Alex feels compelled to add (to lie, actually; his moral standing has totally gone downhill since this whole fiasco started).
“Sure,” Cash says agreeably enough. “Where are we going?”
“To that new Smoothie Hut place, maybe? I think it just opened; I want to go try it out.”
* * *
So. Alex, apparently, is an idiot. Even more of an idiot than his sister said, which in of itself is pretty amazing. Amazing. Yeah, that’s a good word for the situation they’re in right now. Unbelievable would be another good word. Insane. Ridiculous. Horrifying.
It had started out okay, at least in Alex’s opinion. They’d ridden in Cash’s car, chatting all the while. It had been pretty awesome; Cash insulted him a few times, Alex made some good retorts, and they were on the whole really happy with each other. It was the perfect mood for, well, you know.
But then! Then they reached the Smoothie Hut. Alex, naive fool that he was, had actually felt happy at reaching their destination. He had been looking forward to a smoothie. So they’d walked inside, and Alex was in no way prepared for the terrible sight that would greet them.
Brendon. Urie. Working the counter at Smoothie Hut. What were the odds? It must have been Fate, or maybe God spitting on Alex. So, sure, maybe Alex had skipped church a few times. That definitely wasn’t reason enough for this!
So Alex, being practical and reasonable and moderately sane, tried to get Cash to, well, walk out of there. No dice. Cash, apparently struck by some fit of madness, got this weird, hard look in his eyes, and refused to budge. He practically dragged Alex across the floor and to the back of the line.
And now? Now they’re one person away from Brendon Urie and his smoothies of doom.
What? No, Alex is not being melodramatic. Alex is in fact being completely fucking reasonable, considering the circumstances. He should get a fucking prize.
“What can I get for you?” Urie asks, and Alex maybe, possibly, a little bit, might have squeaked. A tiny squeak. Inaudible, of course. Cash glares at him.
“I’ll have the Triple Berry Blast,” Cash says in an antagonistic tone.
“Um. I’ll have, um. Is it alright if I get the Strawberry Bananarama?” Alex asks timidly.
“Sure,” Urie says politely, nonchalantly, and turns away to make the smoothies. In fact…he doesn’t even recognize them! Alex feels a momentary surge of relief, before getting kind of angry.
What the hell? So Urie doesn’t recognize the guy whose heart he broke? What, does Cash need to put on his lunch helper cap and plastic gloves to get anything? Seriously. Alex glares at the back of Urie’s head. Urie doesn’t notice.
The rest of the time passes in some kind of blur. Urie handing them their smoothies, Cash plunking the money down onto the counter with unnecessary force, and then them walking out of there.
Alex doesn’t think he breathes until they get back into Cash’s car.
“So. Uh,” Alex starts, and then stops, because, really? What the hell is he going to say?
“Let’s just go back to my house,” Cash says shortly.
The drive over there takes a silent five minutes, Cash drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and looking broodingly at the road. Alex, for his part, just grabs onto the door handle tightly, because Cash in a good mood is a terrible driver. And Cash is pretty far away from a good mood right now. It’s kind of strange; Cash is staring at the road with this burning intensity, and yet he still manages to miss stop signs and—one terrifying time—a stoplight. It’s a miracle they didn’t get stopped by a cop, really.
When they get to Cash’s house, it’s empty.
“Um. Are your parents out, or something?” Alex asks awkwardly.
Cash nods, still stiff. “They skipped to Reno for the weekend. It’s their anniversary.” He pauses. “Why? Hoping to catch a glimpse of my mom?”
“What? No! Of course not!”
Cash grunts, and without another word, he grabs Alex’s smoothie out of his hands (he hasn’t drunk from it; he kind of forgot he was even holding it) and dumps it in the trash along with his own.
“Let’s get smashed, dude.”
* * *
Um. Ew. Alex thinks his lips are burning. So is his tongue. And the roof of his mouth. And his throat; definitely his throat. What the fuck is this shit? It feels like he’s drinking unadulterated gasoline, or something equally terrible.
“What—what is this?” Alex asks, trying not to gag.
Cash shrugs, swilling back the stuff like it’s nothing. “My dad notices if I take, like, the regular beers. The only thing I can get away with is this, like, 10-year-old vodka, because he never touches it.”
“Vodka.”
“Yeah. ‘Snot that bad, really. You get used to it after a while.”
Really? Because Alex doesn’t think he can get used to it. Alex doesn’t want to get used to it. Honestly, it feels like his vocal cords are shriveling up. And also, it just tastes like shit. He stares unhappily into the plastic cup. The vodka twinkles back at him.
“C’mon, DeLeon, don’t be such a pussy. Have you never drunk alcohol before?” Cash asks, taunting.
“Of course I have! Just not, like, vodka.” Still, Alex tilts the cup back and takes another sip. It’s worse than the first, fuck. Maybe if he just, like…poured it into Cash’s cup. So he could pretend that he drank it all. It’s not like Cash would notice; there’s a made-for-TV movie playing in front of them that Cash looks completely engrossed in.
Cash starts laughing uproariously at something the retard main character did, and Alex grabs the opportunity to tip some vodka into Cash’s cup. It’s surprisingly easy to keep doing it; the movie is, apparently, really funny—Alex personally doesn’t see it—and Cash laughs more and more as the plot continues. Although, Alex isn’t actually sure if it’s the writers’ wit or Cash’s blood alcohol level helping them out.
An hour later, they’re deep into a pizza, and Cash is peering curiously into his cup.
“This is so weird, man. I could’ve sworn I didn’t pour this much into my cup.”
“Huh,” Alex says carefully. “That’s weird. Maybe you just weren’t keeping track of how much you were drinking.”
“…Yeah.” Unconcerned, Cash tosses back the rest of the vodka. “You done with your cup?”
“Yep! It was great! Really good.”
“Uh. Okay. You want more, or something?” Cash eyes him quizzically.
“Uh, no! I’m, um. I’m good. Really.” Alex tries out a small smile.
Cash shrugs, and pours himself another cup. Another movie comes on, equally stupid as the first, and they settle back to watch.
“D’you remember that one party last year that we went to?” Cash asks out of the blue some time later.
“Um. Yeah.” Cash had gotten totally sloshed, and he started making out with this one girl before puking all over her shirt. Alex had had to avert a potential homicide. And then he’d had to maneuver Cash into the car and drive him back home. Which, now that Alex thinks about it, was really quite the feat, considering he didn’t know how to drive.
“Tha’ night is r’ly fuzzy in my head,” Cash tells him solemnly. “I think I r’member something to do with you, like carryin’ me? Somewhere? Maybe?”
“Yeah, Cash,” Alex says patiently. “I had to take you home after you threw up all over Ashley and her Dolce and Gabbana handbag.”
“I din’t ever thank you for that, did I?” Cash slurs, looking kind of down.
“Um, no, not really,” Alex says truthfully.
“Well. Thanks, man,” Cash says very seriously.
“You’re, uh, welcome,” Alex says to Cash’s completely random expression of gratitude. What the hell brought this on?
“I jus’ feel like, like you’re always cleanin’ after me,” Cash says suddenly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, like. Like, I keep getting’ into these fuck-ups, and you’re always there t’put things back t’gether.”
“Well, uh.” Alex frowns. What’s he supposed to say to that?
“I’m not a very good friend, am I?” Cash says mournfully.
Alex laughs a little. “You do alright, I think.”
“No, really.” Cash looks deep into Alex’s eyes, very earnest. “I feel like you’re always doin’ stuff for me, and I don’ ever do anythin’ for you. Why are you even friends wi’me?”
Alex drapes his arm over Cash’s shoulder carefully, and pulls him a little closer. Hopefully, he’s not taking too much of a liberty. “Friendship isn’t like that, dude,” he begins. “It isn’t some system of give-and-take. Or, well, not really. Trust me, there are plenty of good reasons for us to be friends.”
Somewhere, Ian is feeling very proud of Alex, and doesn’t know why.
“Well. Tha’s good,” Cash slurs, looking slightly reassured. “’Cause, I mean, I don’ wanna lose you, or anything. That would suck. I know that sometimes I’m kind of an asshole.”
Alex wants to make some sort of crack about having this on record, but Cash is still looking at him solemnly, and he can’t. The air feels heavy around them, somehow, and Alex doesn’t want to disturb it.
“Don’t worry,” he says softly, mouth kind of dry. “You’re not ever going to lose me.”
Cash stares at him with big eyes, and something in Alex propels him, leaning forward slowly, so slowly, until their lips connect gently. Cash is completely still under him for a wracking second, and then he makes a small noise and opens his mouth, nudging Alex’s open too.
It’s…Wow. Alex is, like… Speechless in his own head, apparently. The kiss is kind of sloppy, and tastes a little too much of vodka, but Cash’s mouth is warm and soft and it just…feels right. Alex pushes forward slightly, nipping at Cash’s lower lip. They keep moving backward until Alex is practically on top of him on the couch.
Time passes in a weird way, and everything feels very hazy. Cash’s eyes have closed, and Alex can see the dark sweep of eyelashes across his cheek. Cash is kissing more languidly, their tongues sliding slowly together without much rhythm. Alex detaches gently to suck inquisitively at Cash’s lip, and Cash gives this kind of sigh, and suddenly slumps into the couch.
Alex pauses. Cash’s eyes are still closed, and he looks like he’s—like he’s snoring. Alex blinks. Is this…is this for real? He moves backward, getting off Cash’s legs and sitting back into the couch cushion. Cash doesn’t react, just continuing to snore softly. His mouth falls slightly open, and Alex can see a trail of drool beginning to form.
Well. This is…’a setback,’ Alex can hear Marshall say in his head. But, you know what? Maybe Cash has the right idea. It’s been getting kind of late. They can deal with this in the morning.
With all this firmly resolved in Alex’s head, he lays his head back and proceeds to fall asleep.
* * *
Alex smiles happily at Cash and then ducks in closer to kiss him. Cash cuddles up agreeably, opening his mouth and letting Alex suck on his tongue. He lets out a loud moan, and Alex smirks, pleased.
Cash moans again, with this weird edge to it, and Alex pauses, confused. Then Cash croaks, in a gruff voice, “Man, I feel like fucking shit.”
Wait. What?
Alex frowns, and then slowly blinks open gummy eyelids. Cash is lying next to him on the couch, a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun, and he’s whining piteously.
Oh. So it was a dream. Alex sighs and sits up properly. Ugh, he’s got the most terrible crick in his neck from sleeping on the couch.
“What’s wrong, dude?” he asks Cash.
“I’ve got this horrible hangover,” Cash groans. “Argh. How much vodka did I drink, anyway?”
Uh. Alex’s eyes slide sideways.
“Man, what are you even doing here?” Cash asks curiously.
“What are you talking about? You invited me over here. You know, after going to the Smoothie Hut?”
“Oh. Right. Dude, I can’t remember fucking anything from last night. Were we watching a movie or something?”
Alex stares at Cash with slowly dawning horror. “You don’t remember anything?”
“Uh, no. That’s what I just said, fucktard.”
“Not anything? Nothing from, oh, say, 11 PM last night?” Alex asks desperately.
“No.” Cash looks at him weirdly. “Why, did I do something?”
Alex lets out a long, shaky breath. “No. No, you didn’t.”
* * *
So. Apparently Cash was too sloshed last night to remember their kiss. It wasn’t even a kiss, it was a full-blown make-out! What the fuck?
Alex frowns, scrunching up his forehead. Cash must have been way drunker than Alex thought he was. So drunk that he couldn’t record anything in his memory.
Wait. That means he was so drunk…Too drunk to do anything. Too drunk to properly consent. To…anything.
Alex gasps, hands coming up to clutch his forehead. Images from the last night run through his head. Him pouring increasing amounts of vodka into Cash’s cup, Cash obliviously just drinking all of it, Cash getting sloppier and sloppier as the night went on…
Did Alex just drug and then daterape Cash with his tongue last night?
This is terrible! Alex has heard about those creeps who ply girls with drinks and then fuck them when they’re too drunk to see straight! He just never realized that he…might turn out to be one of them. Fuck.
Alex slumps into his bed and stares up at the ceiling. Cash was right. Alex must be some kind of fucking pervert. How else could he have gotten Cash drunk and then molested him—all on accident?
* * *
Monday is corndog day. Alex is actually kind of looking forward to it for once, just the mindless activity of heating stuff and putting them in cartons. Maybe then he can stop thinking about what he did.
“Hey, DeLeon?”
“I’m sorry!” he squawks, voice jumping up an octave. “I really didn’t mean to!”
It’s Marshall. “Um…what the hell?”
Alex breathes out slowly. “Uh, nothing. Nothing. What’s up?” He can feel sweat trickling down his neck.
“Dude, what the hell is up with you?” Marshall asks. “Why were you apologizing?”
“No reason! I just, uh—you know. I had a weird dream last night,” Alex says rapidly.
“Yeah fucking right.” Marshall looks at him, unimpressed.
“What’s going on?” Ian asks from behind Alex, and Alex, just maybe, lets out a little scream. He’s on edge, okay? He’s entitled. He fucking dateraped his best friend with his tongue Friday night.
“Uh, wow,” Johnson says slowly. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m feeling fine! Totally fine!” Alex speaks even faster, and his foot starts doing a nervous tap.
“Yeah, no,” Johnson says. “What the hell happened?”
Alex sighs, defeated. Maybe…Maybe it would be best to tell them. A load off his chest, and everything.
So he does.
After he finishes talking for five minutes straight, though, they don’t say anything. Johnson looks suspiciously blank, but that’s normal. What isn’t normal is Ian’s weirdly constipated expression, and Marshall’s sudden coughing fit.
“Uh. Guys?”
Ian’s face is getting really red. Then he takes a deep breath and regains a hold on himself. “I think,” he says slowly, “what you need to do first is tell him.”
“Yeah,” Marshall wheezes. “That would definitely be a start.”
“Tell him?” Alex says. “But—he’d never forgive me!”
“Tell him,” Johnson says firmly.
“Doesn’t he deserve to know?” Ian asks.
“Yeah,” Marshall says, and then coughs again. “Wouldn’t you want to know if you were, uh, dateraped?” Marshall starts coughing again, and Alex thumps him on the back helpfully. Maybe Marshall’s getting a cold.
“That’s true,” Alex says thoughtfully. “I would want to know.”
“As would we all,” Johnson says in a monotone. Alex eyes him. Johnson always speaks in a monotone when he’s making fun of him.
“But I can’t tell him at school,” Alex frets, pacing up and down the hallway. “I don’t want everyone to know what I did.”
“Then tell him somewhere else,” Ian says shrugging.
Alex sighs. “Fine.”
* * *
Alex bites his nails nervously. Is Cash coming, or not? Ugh. He pulls at a strand of his hair.
This was all a complete mess. Alex had skipped lunch duty, because he just couldn’t look Cash in the eyes. And instead, he’d written a note and stuffed it in Cash’s locker.
The note was, admittedly, a little vague. But Alex didn’t know what else to write without giving it all away! So it’d gone something along the lines of:
Cash,
Meet me at my house this afternoon after school ends. Come alone.
DeLeon
Okay. So, maybe Marshall was right, and it sounded a little like a ransom note, or something. Alex resumes biting on his nails. This is going to be such a disaster.
“Hey, DeLeon!” Alex turns around and sees Cash walking toward him leisurely. “What’s up? Your note was kind of…weird. And why weren’t you at lunch duty today?”
“I—I need to tell you something,” Alex stammers.
“Um, okay. What?” Cash looks so casual, so unworried. Alex gulps.
“I, um. I…You might want to sit down.” Alex wrings his hands and leads Cash over to their front porch. They sit down on the steps.
“You’re kind of freaking me out, man,” Cash says, still half-smiling like he thinks this is all a joke. “Why so serious?” he cracks.
“I,” Alex starts, and then takes a deep breath. “I did something really terrible Friday night.”
Cash starts looking a little more concerned. “You kill someone, or what? But you were with me the whole time, dude, you couldn’t have. Oh, wait.” Cash’s face suddenly becomes a lot more grave.
Alex stares at Cash, heart thumping. Did he figure it out?
“Did you steal some of my mom’s underwear while I was asleep, or something?” Cash asks with a straight face.
“No!” Alex snaps. “Can you please stop it with the mom jokes? This is serious!”
“Okay, okay, sorry.” Cash holds his hands up.
Alex sighs. “Cash, I might have…I mean, I did…” He squeezes his eyes shut and perseveres. “I poured all my vodka into your cup on Friday night because I didn’t want to drink it!” he says in a rush.
Cash blinks.
“So you were a lot drunker than you thought you were!”
“Um, that’s really okay, dude. You can stop wigging out. And you could have just told me you didn’t want it. I mean, the less vodka you drink, the more there is for me, right?” Cash smiles at Alex soothingly.
“No, but—“ Alex wrings his hands some more. “That’s not the terrible thing I did!”
“So what is?” Cash asks.
“After you drank all the alcohol and got really drunk, I, uh, I…” Alex stares at the ground miserably.
“Dude, just spit it out,” Cash says, sounding a little annoyed.
“I took advantage of your inebriation and molested you!” Alex says rapidly, and then closes his eyes. He can’t look at Cash.
There’s silence. Alex opens his eyes slowly, cautiously. Cash is staring at him. He blinks slowly.
“You…what?”
“I made out with you while you were too drunk to consent,” Alex repeats wretchedly.
“But…why?”
“Because I kind of, I kind of like you, okay? I’ve liked you for years, and then when Urie was finally out of the picture, I thought I could…I don’t know.”
“You’ve liked me for years?” Cash says unbelievingly.
“Um. Maybe?”
“And you’ve only now told me, after molesting my drunken self?” Cash goes on.
“I’m really, really sorry, Cash, I know what I did was totally unforgiveable, and if you never want to see me again I completely understand, I’m just so sorry.” Alex looks at Cash, biting his lip.
“I just—I just can’t believe you actually did that,” Cash says slowly.
“I know! It was horrible of me!” Alex agrees hurriedly.
“No, I mean…I can’t believe you did that. It sounds more like something I would do,” Cash says.
“It does?” Alex pauses. Thinks about it. Huh.
“You know, I think you might be right,” Alex says.
“Yeah.”
“So, you forgive me?” Alex asks hopefully.
Cash rolls his eyes. “There’s nothing to forgive, fucktard. More importantly, I think we need to rewind to that part where you said you’ve liked me for years.”
“We do?” Alex asks stupidly.
“Yeah, we do,” Cash says, and promptly sticks his hand down Alex’s pants.
And okay, Alex maybe shrieked and scooted away, because he was caught by surprise, all right, but no one can prove anything. Except for maybe Cash. And the neighbor’s dog.
The more important part is what comes afterward, and which doesn’t involve any shrieking and scooting away. And which also doesn’t involve being groped in the middle of the neighborhood in broad daylight, because Alex really doesn’t want to explain this to his mom just yet, okay?
But it does involve groping. And that is all Alex DeLeon is saying on the subject.
(Although Cash might be persuaded to tell you more.)
End.
An hour later, they’re in the same position.
“What?” Alex squawks. “You want me to what?”
“It’s not that complicated,” Marshall says impatiently.
“I know it’s not that complicated! That’s not the issue I have with it!”
“Look, it’s just going to be, like, an accidental swipe.”
“Yeah, except not accidental,” Alex feels he needs to point out.
“Alex, would you shut up for a minute? God, it’s like trying to teach my sister math. It’s just an insignificant gesture meant to convey interest of the sexual nature to your target. I mean, prey. I mean, victim. I mean—well, you know what I mean.”
Wow, this really is not reassuring Alex. At all.
“Hold up, let me get this straight. So, you want me to reach over for something on the other side of Cash, in the process letting my right arm drape down like a dead animal, and have the fingers of my right hand grope Cash’s crotch?”
“It sounds so dirty when you put it like that,” Marshall grumbles. “And you’re not technically groping him. There is no grasping involved.”
Alex is fairly certain the blood vessels in his face are about to explode.
“It’s just—“ Marshall makes a slight movement in the air with his hand, officially traumatizing Alex for life—“a brush, kind of. Very casual. You can even apologize afterward, if it makes you feel better.”
“I don’t think anything is going to make me feel better,” Alex says bleakly.
“You’re being so melodramatic. Unnecessarily so.”
“Dude, can you stop it with the big vocabulary words? You aren’t actually my teacher.”
“What are you talking about? I’m tutoring you in the ways of men.” Marshall grins.
“Oh my god, shut up. And none of this is going to help me, anyway.”
“Are you kidding me? The Heated Stare, Neck Caress, and Crotch Swipe are all proven methods of seduction, and they’re patented! By me! The creator.”
“Don’t quit your day job,” Alex cracks weakly.
“I hate to break it to you, but you’re really not as funny as you think you are.”
“Cash laughs at me,” Alex says.
“At you being the operative phrase.”
“Whatever. I still can’t believe you told me to compliment Cash’s tattoo! He would never buy that. I mean, I tell him practically every day how stupid his tattoos are.”
“Tattoos are a sign of his masculinity and strength. You’re making Cash feel more powerful and more in control of the situation, which he needs to feel if you’re going to get anywhere near his crotch. You need to make him feel like bumping uglies was his idea, not yours. Cash is just that kind of dude.”
“Uh huh. Okay,” Alex says skeptically. “Anyway, when am I actually going to do any of this to him? I can’t exactly try to grope him in the middle of English class.”
“Ms. Stevens might appreciate it,” Marshall says, smirking.
Alex rolls his eyes.
“Just find some neutral ground. Go to the movies, or something. Isn’t there a new slasher film playing in theaters?”
“I don’t know if watching massive amounts of gore is really going to set the kind of mood we’re looking for.”
Marshall actually starts laughing at him. “Dude, trust me on this one.”
“Uh. Wow. Okay. So, slasher movies get Cash hot?”
“You are such a girl, dude,” Marshall says.
“I am not!” Alex squawks, and oops. Apparently the librarian has really had enough.
“Out of here! Both of you! My word, you’ve been disrupting the learning atmosphere for nearly the entire period!”
* * *
“So, Cash, do you want to go to the movies this weekend?” Alex asks as he shovels out tator tots.
“No.”
* * *
“Really, Cash, c’mon. Are you busy or something?” Alex says while laying out the hot dogs.
“I guess I’m just not in the mood. Plus I might have homework.”
* * *
“You’ve been working way too hard, Cash! I really think you need to take a break,” Alex says in the middle of slicing the pizza.
“Doing what? Watching a movie?”
“Uh…”
“Seriously, Alex, ask someone else.”
* * *
“I don’t want to ask Johnson and Ian because they’ll just be all gross and couple-y in front of me, and Marshall has a date,” Alex whines while baking the pasta.
“Really? You really want to go that badly?”
“Uh, who wouldn’t want to see Blood and Guts IX in 3D?” Besides him, of course.
“Well, huh. I guess you do have a point.”
Alex mentally pumps a fist in victory. “Also, dude, I just miss hanging out with you. Can’t I spend some time with my friend?”
Alex can see, literally see a snide comment hovering on the edge of Cash’s tongue like “don’t be a fucktard,” or “are you pms-ing?” but nothing comes out. He sighs in disappointment.
“So, tomorrow at seven?” Alex asks.
“Yeah, okay.”
* * *
“Too preppy,” his sister rejects. She pulls her lollipop out of her mouth and gives Alex a disdainful look. “Where the hell do you shop, Ralph Lauren? Why don’t you own any decent clothing?”
“Would you stop with the smartass comments, Miss I-Singlehandedly-Keep-Aeropostale-In-Business? Ugh, what about this shirt?” It’s black and plain, collared.
“I thought you didn’t want Cash to know this was a date,” Callie says.
“I don’t.”
“Well, then.”
“Fine, what about this?” Alex pulls out a hoodie from PacSun.
“It’s really colorful.”
“So?”
She sighs. “I guess it’s the best you can do. At least Cash is used to how stupid you look in your clothing, so you won’t be giving him any nasty surprise, or anything.”
“Whatever. And get out, I need to change.”
She flounces out, and Alex pulls a face at her receding back. Shit, it’s 6:55; Cash will be here in fifteen minutes. Unless he’s on time for once in his life, in which case Alex really needs to hurry.
He shoves the hoodie on, wincing at how staticky his straightened hair feels. Fuck, he looks like absolute crap. Maybe if he puts some more product in? Or re-straightens his hair? Or maybe just changes his outfit altogether?
The doorbell rings, and Alex jumps. Hell, he can go naked. It’d certainly make a statement to Cash if he answered the door without any clothes on.
He rolls his eyes at himself in the mirror before running halfway down the stairs, realizing he doesn’t want to look too excited for this non-date, and then walking the rest of the way down. He can hear his sister laughing at him from upstairs.
“Hey,” Cash says after Alex opens the door. “You ready to go?”
Cash’s hair is rumpled and he has bags under his eyes. A wrinkled t-shirt is hanging off his frame, and those shoes have definitely seen better days. Alex is kind of regretting spending so much time worrying about his appearance.
“Yeah, dude. Let’s, uh, go.”
The drive there is spent in an awkward silence that’s unusual for them. Alex can feel the minutes slipping away from him, and he desperately wracks his brain for something to say.
“So. Um. What’ve you been doing today?”
“Nothing much,” Cash says shortly.
“You, uh, you looking forward to the movie?”
Cash cracks a smile. “Yeah. It’s always fun to see people getting killed.”
“…Right. Um…” Unbidden, an image of Marshall looking very severe surfaces in his mind. “Have I ever mentioned how cool your thirtizzle tattoo is?”
“Uh. No.” Cash takes his eyes off the road to give him a quizzical look. “Although you have mentioned how much you hate it.”
“Well, you know. I was, uh.” Dammit, Marshall. “I was jealous!”
“Jealous?” Cash asks skeptically.
“Yeah. Because it’s so, like, manly.”
“…Okay.”
They lapse back into silence. Alex scowls ferociously at the dashboard. This isn’t fucking working at all! He and Marshall are so going to have a talk when he gets back from this disaster.
* * *
Alex isn’t sure how he got to this point in his life, but he’s pretty sure that nothing he has ever done—aside from maybe that incident with the neighbors’ cat—could have warranted this kind of torture.
He doesn’t even know how Cash got started! One minute they were getting their drinks and popcorn like normal people, and some time between then and now, Cash started talking. Which, sure, Alex is totally in favor of if there was a choice between Cash talking and Cash sulking, but—wow. This is really not what he bargained for.
“They’re just a horribly mismatched couple, dude, don’t you agree? I mean, come on! Ryan Ross is practically a girl, only without the vagina. If you’re gonna be gay, you might as well go all out and date someone who acts like he actually has a dick! And Ross uses all that disgusting eyeliner and eyeshadow! He could pass for some preteen girl in middle school! Hell, elementary school, even. What the fuck does Brendon see in him?”
“Um.” Is there a right answer to that question? Is Cash even looking for an answer? “No?”
“That’s what I’m saying, man! How the hell could Brendon choose that over me? I mean, seriously? Ross is all skin and bones! Sex with that retard has got to be awfully pointy, and not in the good way.”
Alex wonders if it’s too late for him to pretend that he’s got some pressing appointment elsewhere.
“I could fucking scalp that bastard. Always batting his eyelinered eyes and pouting his lip-glossed lips, he’s like a fucking tranny. Fucking shameless. You know, what the fuck ever. If that’s what Brendon’s looking for, some guy who’s more pussy than man, then fine, they’re a great fucking match! I hope he doesn’t scream when he reaches down and feels a dick. Because, I mean, I would.”
Alex stares desperately at the previews. Some heartwarming movie about a dog, two cats, and a moose is coming out on June 4th. He should mark his calendar; Callie might be interested.
“I just don’t get it! Brendon and I would be so much better together! We could hang out and get stupid tattoos…Have you seen those piano keys on his arm? He gets made fun of for that just as much as you make fun of me for my thirtizzle tattoo! We could bond over that.”
“I said that your thirtizzle tattoo was cool,” Alex says faintly, but Cash just talks right over him.
“I just know we could have had such an awesome future together. We could make fucking music together! Did you know that Brendon plays about a million instruments?”
“Yeah, you’ve only told me about fifty times,” Alex mutters under his breath.
“And we could play video games together! I’ve heard that Brendon kicks butt at Guitar Hero. Just hours of playing video games together, man. It would be as close to Nirvana as possible.”
Alex stares despairingly at the movie theater ceiling.
“We have all the same interests, DeLeon, it’s crazy. It’s like we were made for each other!”
“OH, HEY, MOVIE STARTING,” Alex almost shouts. “Whoops, we better be quiet now.”
“Oh, hey, yeah.” Cash shoves his special 3D glasses on, settles down into the seat, and watches the screen with a rapt expression.
Alex puts his own 3D glasses on reluctantly. It’s going to be two long fucking hours.
* * *
“Dude, wow.” Cash is watching him with an expression that’s some cross of amazed and impressed. Alex isn’t going to lie, he’s had dreams about having that expression directed toward him, but this really isn’t the situation he was thinking about. For one thing, there would be less clothes, and hopefully a bed. There is definitely no bed here.
“Granlrgfh,” Alex manages before heaving again.
Cash follows the line of greenish-yellow vomit with his eyes, still looking admiring. “Wow, man, it’s been like fifteen minutes, and you’re still going strong.”
Alex makes a face at him, but it probably just looks like another grimace brought on from the vomiting.
“Dude, why didn’t you tell me you had such a problem with gore? I mean, Blood and Guts IX has a body count of 45 people, and their guts all jump out at you in 3D. I think it’d be pretty obvious you’d throw up.”
Alex shrugs miserably, face pressed against the toilet seat. He is so past caring about hygiene.
“And this movie was your choice! You’re so fucking stupid, Alex. Why’d you choose it if you knew you’d hurl?”
Because you wanted to watch it, Alex thinks sullenly, but doesn’t dare say. And he thought he could maybe handle it. He didn’t account for the 3D, though.
“Guess I forgot,” Alex croaks. His stomach feels marginally more stable, so he stands up and reaches for the paper towels.
“Man,” Cash tsks, shaking his head. He wets a paper towel in the sink, and reaches out to gently wipe Alex’s cheek. Alex leans toward the touch dizzily, and shuts his eyes.
Worst fucking idea ever.
* * *
After one long, frustrating, fucking terrible week, it’s Monday again. Which means corndogs. Again. Alex thinks of the gray, frozen packages, and shudders. But no. Ice is a very good thing to visualize right now. Alex is ice. He is emotionless. He is as smooth as a fucking icicle.
“Dude, what the hell is up with you?” Marshall asks, walking faster to catch up with him.
Alex turns his nose up, pointedly ignoring Marshall, and speeds up his pace. After that torturous Saturday night, Alex is never listening to Marshall again.
“C’mon, man, you’re acting like my sister when she’s pms-ing. Did something go wrong, or whatever?”
“Did something go wrong?” Alex whirls around and hisses at Marshall. “Uh, yeah, I’d say something went wrong. I’d say everything went wrong.”
“Well, then, tell me what happened,” Marshall says reasonably.
Alex sighs. He puts his hands on his hips, before remembering that his sister told him it made him look like a lesbian. He takes them off and crosses his arms instead. He cocks his chin out at Marshall.
Marshall is looking at him confusedly. “Uh, is this, like, a dance, or something? Should I be copying you?”
“No, this is not a dance!” Alex throws his hands up in exasperation, and then glares when Marshall mirrors him. “I was being angry.”
“Oh. No wonder I was confused.”
“Yeah, fuck you.”
“Dude, just tell me what happened.”
Alex pouts. He hates it when he pouts, usually, but right now he is just so frustrated he doesn’t fucking care.
“The date sucked,” he says.
“Well, yeah, I kind of gathered that much.” Marshall raises his eyebrow at him.
“No, I mean, really sucked. Do you know what we talked about the entire time? Or, huh, I guess I shouldn’t have said ‘we’ when it was really only Cash monologuing.” Alex pauses for dramatic effect. “About Brendon Urie. He seriously went on for hours.”
Marshall winces. “Well, you know. That is kind of expected. He’s been crazy for that guy for years now. He’s going to need a bit of time to get over it. You just need to work through it.”
“Yeah, maybe I could have worked through it if I wasn’t puking at the time.”
“Puking?”
“Apparently, gore doesn’t agree with my stomach.”
Marshall sighs. “This is a setback. Hurling in front of someone you went to bang is just not a smart thing to do, Alex. You want to cultivate sexual interest, not revulsion.”
“I didn’t do it on fucking purpose!” Alex squawks.
Marshall looks long-suffering. “I guess I must have miscalculated. I wanted to find a neutral place to put Cash more at ease, but I didn’t take into account your own comfort. We’ll need to think of a different spot next time.”
“Next time?” Alex is seriously done with this. “There isn’t going to be a next time! Cash obviously isn’t interested in me, and you know what? Maybe that’s a good thing! Maybe I don’t care! He’s already proven he doesn’t have any taste in his sexual partners, anyway.”
“Uh huh. Right.”
“I’m serious, Marshall.” Alex furrows his eyebrows at Marshall.
“Okay, sure. Look, man, I get that you need to pretend to preserve at least some sense of dignity, but let’s not go overboard, all right? What do you think about going to a bowling alley for the next date?”
Alex throws his arms up again.
* * *
Ian won’t stop laughing, and Johnson looks suspiciously blank. Fuckers. Alex so needs to find some new friends. Frank, for one, seems kind of nice. Although he hangs out with people who, to be honest, look way too hardcore for Alex. Frank looks sort of hardcore too, but he has this really embarrassing giggle, so Alex figures they’re about on the same level.
“God, would you shut up already?” Alex says, annoyed.
As if in response, Ian lets out this loud snort and subsides into more giggles.
“I can’t believe you actually went to Marshall for advice on your love life,” Johnson says. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I didn’t go to him!” Alex feels he needs to clarify. “He just kind of sprung it on me!”
“And you didn’t run screaming?”
Alex shrugs sulkily.
“Man, no wonder your date was an absolute disaster,” Ian says, apparently done laughing. About time. It’s been like ten minutes.
“Marshall’s outlook on love only centers around sex,” Ian continues. “But you have a deeper connection with Cash that goes beyond sex! Of course his plan wouldn’t work for you guys.”
“Uh…Okay,” Alex says carefully.
“What you need is advice from people who are in a healthy, loving relationship!” Ian says. Johnson wraps an around his shoulders, and they smile in unison, like they’ve rehearsed it. It is actually incredibly creepy.
Alex tries to push back his rapidly mounting sense of foreboding. “So what should I do?” he asks.
Ian smiles wider. “I thought you’d never ask. Man, you should have come to us in the first place.”
* * *
Alex’s head is spinning. Or maybe it’s the room that’s spinning. Maybe it’s the world. But wait, the world is always spinning, right? Alex is so confused.
“So, did you get what I just said?” Ian asks.
Alex lets out a piteous moan.
“To recap,” Ian says, completely ignoring Alex, “you need to—“
“Hire a fucking private eye and stalk Cash 24/7?” Alex interrupts.
“No!” Ian looks gravely disappointed in him. “You just need to know more about your potential significant other’s background before trying anything! A healthy relationship can only be built on mutual knowledge and respect!”
‘Healthy relationship’ is like Ian’s buzzphrase, or something. He’s said it about twenty times in the past hour.
“Ian, dude, what you’re saying is going to take fucking years. I’ll be forty before Cash and I get anywhere!”
“You can’t rush into a healthy relationship! These things take time.”
“You and Johnson hooked up awfully quick,” Alex grumbles.
“That’s because we’re soul mates,” Ian says serenely.
“Cash and I could be soul mates,” Alex says.
Johnson lets out a snort that he tries, unsuccessfully, to turn into a cough. Whatever. Johnson’s a fucktard.
“Okay, okay, let me just get this straight,” Alex says. “First, I need to find out all of Cash’s interests, and likes and dislikes. Then I need to tell him all of mine. And then we need to spend time together. And then, after we’re more comfortable with each other, I need to find out his beliefs and moral code, which, to be honest, will probably just be a waste of time considering it’s Cash and he has no moral code, but whatever. And then I need to introduce him to my family, and vice versa. And then I need to spend time with his family to make sure that we’re compatible. And then I need to—guys, seriously, this is way overboard.”
Ian shrugs at him in a superior manner. “You want to have a healthy, durable relationship with Cash or not? Because all of those steps are key.”
“I’m not sure if I want it that much,” Alex mutters.
Ian pretends not to hear him. “So, I think the ice cream parlor would be a perfect setting for a first date.”
“Second date, technically,” Alex says.
“Not really. Your first date was so catastrophic due to Marshall’s incompetence that I think we can really write it off all together,” Ian says.
“What?” comes a voice from behind them.
Alex slowly turns around. It’s Marshall.
“What the hell is this?” Marshall asks, looking angry.
Alex tries to shrink back into his seat.
“We’re just giving DeLeon some advice on how to date Cash,” Ian says calmly.
“You are?” Marshall scoffs.
“We’re better qualified than you, anyway,” Ian says. “Tell me again how long your longest relationship lasted?”
“That’s so not relevant!” Marshall steams. “At least with my methods, DeLeon won’t still be a virgin in the coffin!”
“Hey,” Alex says half-heartedly.
“All the evidence contradicts that,” Ian says cuttingly. “Clearly, your methods weren’t getting Alex anywhere.”
Alex sinks his head onto his arms as Marshall barks out a retort. When did all of this get blown so out of proportion?
* * *
“Man, I should have known you’d choose vanilla. It’s like, the pussiest of all ice cream flavors. You’re such a girl, DeLeon,” Cash says, licking his Rocky Road ice cream with satisfaction.
Alex tries not to smile too stupidly at Cash, but he can’t help it! It feels like ages since Cash has been happy enough to insult him, that’s all. It feels familiar.
“Vanilla is a perfectly acceptable ice cream flavor. Anyway, Rocky Road practically screams overcompensation,” Alex says without any real heat.
“Dude, I don’t need to compensate for anything,” Cash says, before winking at Alex and licking up his cone lewdly.
Alex can feel his eyes glazing over.
“So, uh, what’s up?” Cash says obliviously. “You said you wanted to talk.”
“Oh, uh, yeah.” Alex fiddles with his hair.
“So, what is it?” Cash asks again.
“I just—just feel like we’ve known each other for so many years, but we don’t, like, really know each other, you know?” Alex stutters out, feeling like an idiot.
“Uh. What?” A drop of Rocky Road slides down his cone, and Cash raises it up to his face to lick it off, jutting out his elbow in the process.
His elbow knocks over this five-year-old girl’s ice cream, and it falls to the floor with a splat. She gasps, and looks ready to start bawling.
“Oh, shit, I mean, crap,” Cash says. “Sorry, man.”
The girl stares at him with big eyes and a trembling lower lip. Cash reaches down into his pocket and pulls his wallet out.
“Here, dude, have another one on me, all right? Sorry about that.”
She takes the five dollar bill quietly and gives Cash an adoring look before traipsing away. Alex is fairly sure the adoring look is mirrored on his own face.
“That was, uh, really nice of you, dude,” Alex says, smiling at Cash almost shyly.
“Huh? Oh. Yeah. I guess so.” Cash looks briefly disturbed.
Reaching his foot out into the aisle, he deftly trips a little boy, then smirks when the kid drops his ice cream cone and starts shrieking.
“That better?” Cash asks.
Alex sighs. “Never mind.”
“So, dude, what were you saying before? Some bullshit about us not knowing each other?”
“Uh. Yeah.” Alex rubs the back of his neck. “I was just, you know, thinking the other day, and I realized I didn’t know what any of your interests were,” he improvises. “So, like. What are your interests?”
“Um. My interests?” Cash looks at Alex weirdly.
“Yeah.”
“I like, uh, videogames.”
“I like videogames, too!” Alex says quickly.
“…I know. Because we know each other,” Cash says pointedly.
Alex chooses to ignore that. “What else do you like?”
“Uh, sex. Food. Sleeping. Getting tattoos,” Cash lists off in a monotone.
“That’s…cool. I like food and sleeping, too,” Alex says valiantly.
“Heh. I guess you wouldn’t know much about sex and tattoos, huh?” Cash says.
Alex reddens. “I totally know about sex! I’ve had sex before!”
Cash looks at him skeptically. “Really?”
“…No. Well, I mean, like, I guess I have, with myself…”
This is so not working out. Alex eyes Cash’s snickers grumpily, and then pushes on with an effort. What did Ian say again?
“So, uh, do you want to know my interests?” Alex asks.
“Not really, man.” Cash says.
…Right.
“Dude, you’ve been acting really weirdly lately. What’s with all this shit about us not knowing each other? Is there something you wanna tell me?” Cash asks.
He’s being surprisingly astute. Alex worries his lower lip.
“Uh, no?” His voice comes out in a squeak.
Cash gives him an unimpressed look.
Alex decides to forge on. What was next on Ian’s list? Something about parents?
“So, um, how is your mom doing?” Alex asks. “Is she still a stay-at-home mom? You know, I should go over to your house and talk to her sometime. Like, catch up.”
“Oh my god.” Cash stares at Alex, horrified.
“What? What?” Alex asks hurriedly. Does he have something in his teeth, or his hair?
“Is that what you’ve been trying to tell me? That you’re interested in my mom?”
“What?” Alex squawks.
“Oh my god, man, that’s so disgusting! I mean, I know my mom looks okay for her age, but ew! You’re fucking sick!”
“No! I mean! Oh my god!” Alex gets incoherent when he’s flustered, it’s kind of a problem.
“No? Don’t even try to front, man. ‘How is your mom doing?’ ‘I should go over to your house to catch up with her.’ Yeah, catch up with her panties, maybe,” Cash snorts.
“No, wait! That’s not what I meant!”
“That’s just so disgusting, dude, I can’t take it! Lusting over my mom! I knew you liked that Stacy’s Mom song a little too much, fuck.”
“Okay, wow, you liked Stacy’s Mom just as much as I did! It was catchy!”
“That’s no excuse for lusting after my fucking mom, you pervert!”
“I’m a pervert! Are you kidding me? Shall we go over all the sexual partners you’ve had this year? This month, even?”
“So you admit that you’ve been lusting over my mom!” Cash says triumphantly. He stands up quickly, pushing his chair out from under him with a loud squeal.
“No, I’m not! That’s—that’s not what I said,” Alex says helplessly.
“I can’t even listen to this! Holy shit. Stay away from my mom, you creep,” Cash says, fast-walking to the door.
“Cash, wait—“
He’s gone. Fuck. Alex drops his head into his hands heavily. How did Cash even--? His mom? Goddamn.
He looks over his shoulder, and notices this middle-aged woman in the next booth glaring at him. He looks at her questioningly.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, young man,” she says severely.
“What?” Alex gasps out. She must have heard Cash speaking. Her furious blue eyes bore into him, and he drops his gaze.
“Are you staring at my breasts?” the delusional woman screeches. “I’ve heard about men like you! Lusting after older women! You ought to be locked up!”
Oh god. The entire ice cream parlor is staring at him. One preteen girl has her mouth gaping open unattractively, some ice cream dripping off her lip.
“So, um, I’m just, uh, I’m just going to go now,” Alex stammers to no one in particular, and practically runs outside.
* * *
“It’s really not that funny,” Alex says patiently, way more patiently than this situation calls for, he feels.
“Really. It’s not,” he repeats.
Five minutes later, “Callie, would you get back on track?” he asks.
“What would you even call something like that?” she gasps out between giggles. “Elderphilia? That’s so gross! El em ay oh!”
“Isn’t it kind of pointless to tell me that you’re laughing your ass off when I can see that you’re laughing your ass off?” Alex asks.
“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Have you maybe considered that all your friends are too stupid to live? And that you probably are too, if you’re taking advice from them?”
“It didn’t seem like it could hurt anything,” Alex justifies lamely.
“And that’s why you’re still single,” Callie tells him.
“Oh, so you aren’t?”
Callie looks shifty.
“Callie!” Alex can’t believe this. “You’re in seventh grade! That’s impossible! Also—pointless. You don’t even really know who you like in seventh grade!”
“It’s so obvious that you’re just jealous.” She sticks her tongue out.
“Oh my god, Cal. Just…keep it above the waist, okay?”
“Duh. They teach us about STDs in sixth grade, Alex. Anyway. We weren’t talking about me. We were talking about you. Eye em oh, you should just forget your friends’ advice and go it alone. It can’t possibly be any worse, right?”
“True,” Alex says consideringly.
“Also, then if you screw it up, you’ll have no one to blame except yourself. So you’ll stop whining to me.”
Alex glares at her. “Whining? Are you kidding me? I’m never going to be able to step foot in that ice cream parlor again! I bet the employees are on the look-out for me now! ALEX DELEON: KNOWN SEX OFFENDER.”
She shrugs at him, unconcerned.
“Suck it up. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go text my bee ef. He gets insecure if he doesn’t hear from me every hour. Tee tee why el!”
* * *
“This totally just proves that you guys don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“It was a simple miscommunication! It’s in no way indicative of whether our plan was working!”
“You’re kidding me, right? This is fucking high school. Miscommunication or not, it never would have worked. Go market your plans to pathetic, divorced baby-boomers!”
“SHUT UP!” Alex slams his hands on the table and stands up.
Marshall and Ian stare at him, looking a little awed.
“Uh. Sorry,” Alex says, and sits back down. “Guys, can you just stop fighting about it? It’s my fucking love life. I should be the one making all the final decisions on it, right?”
They don’t look entirely convinced. Alex wrinkles his nose at them.
“Seriously. I’ll just handle this myself. If I can, anyway. Cash seems pretty fucking convinced that I have the hots for his mom. Which is kind of a big barrier to having a ‘healthy relationship.’”
“He can’t really think that,” Marshall says doubtfully. “I mean, Cash is kind of stupid, but honestly? You, with his mom? You totally don’t even have the balls to think about lusting after his mom.”
“That’s true,” Ian agrees. “You’re kind of a pussy about things like that. Also, his mom is so not your type.”
“She’s female, for one thing,” Marshall puts in.
“Oh my god, just shut up,” Alex says. “I need to think about how to fix this.”
* * *
Wednesday is hot dog day. Alex normally doesn’t have much of an opinion on hot dog days, because by the time he gets there, the chef already has the hot dogs all cooked, and all he and Cash need to do is put them in their buns. Right now, though, Alex is feeling kind of nervous. A little sweaty, too, which is uncomfortable when you’re wearing plastic gloves. He picks at them idly.
Cash is late. Cash is way late. Almost ten minutes now. And—Alex just doesn’t want to think about the implications of Cash being late. Like, if Cash is so disgusted he can’t even come to lunch duty because he can’t stand the sight of Alex.
Which is stupid. Really, really stupid.
Unfortunately, Cash often does stupid things, so Alex is not very reassured.
“Hey, dude,” he hears from behind him, and he jumps about a foot in the air before turning around.
“A little twitchy today?” Cash asks, amused.
“Well, no. I mean. Uh. I really don’t like your mom, Cash!” Alex blurts out. “I mean, well, I do, but, like, not in that way. I mean. I’m sure she’s a great mom!”
“But not a great lay?” Cash asks, smirking.
Alex’s cheeks feel so red they could probably be sending out their own distress signal.
“Dude, yeah. I went home, thought about it, and then realized you lusting after my mom just wasn’t really probable.”
“Right!” Alex says, nodding emphatically.
“I mean, for one thing, you totally don’t have the balls to.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Alex sputters.
“You don’t even think crushes on teachers are okay; you’re definitely not going to think about getting it on with my mom. Besides, she’s not your type.”
“How do you even know what my type is?”
Cash scoffs at him. “Are you kidding me? It’s so obvious.”
“Obvious?” Alex squeaks.
“Well, yeah. You like those lovable, stupid jackasses. Like back in sixth grade, when you were totally in love with that dude who was shoving you into lockers.”
“I just thought he had nice arms!” Alex protests.
“Uh. Yeah. Right. Anyway. He was a total jackass. You like people who have senses of humor and aren’t too smart and also aren’t very nice.” Cash shrugs casually, like he didn’t just describe himself exactly.
“Huh,” Alex says.
“Yeah.”
They continue laying out the hot dogs in silence for a few minutes. Alex eyes Cash sideways through his eyelashes. Apparently, Cash isn’t as thick as Alex thought he was. Which…could either be problematic or good.
“Hey, um, do you wanna maybe grab some smoothies on Friday? Like, after school?” he asks on a whim.
“Um, okay,” Cash says.
“My sister’s having a sleepover, and I really don’t want to be around for that,” Alex feels compelled to add (to lie, actually; his moral standing has totally gone downhill since this whole fiasco started).
“Sure,” Cash says agreeably enough. “Where are we going?”
“To that new Smoothie Hut place, maybe? I think it just opened; I want to go try it out.”
* * *
So. Alex, apparently, is an idiot. Even more of an idiot than his sister said, which in of itself is pretty amazing. Amazing. Yeah, that’s a good word for the situation they’re in right now. Unbelievable would be another good word. Insane. Ridiculous. Horrifying.
It had started out okay, at least in Alex’s opinion. They’d ridden in Cash’s car, chatting all the while. It had been pretty awesome; Cash insulted him a few times, Alex made some good retorts, and they were on the whole really happy with each other. It was the perfect mood for, well, you know.
But then! Then they reached the Smoothie Hut. Alex, naive fool that he was, had actually felt happy at reaching their destination. He had been looking forward to a smoothie. So they’d walked inside, and Alex was in no way prepared for the terrible sight that would greet them.
Brendon. Urie. Working the counter at Smoothie Hut. What were the odds? It must have been Fate, or maybe God spitting on Alex. So, sure, maybe Alex had skipped church a few times. That definitely wasn’t reason enough for this!
So Alex, being practical and reasonable and moderately sane, tried to get Cash to, well, walk out of there. No dice. Cash, apparently struck by some fit of madness, got this weird, hard look in his eyes, and refused to budge. He practically dragged Alex across the floor and to the back of the line.
And now? Now they’re one person away from Brendon Urie and his smoothies of doom.
What? No, Alex is not being melodramatic. Alex is in fact being completely fucking reasonable, considering the circumstances. He should get a fucking prize.
“What can I get for you?” Urie asks, and Alex maybe, possibly, a little bit, might have squeaked. A tiny squeak. Inaudible, of course. Cash glares at him.
“I’ll have the Triple Berry Blast,” Cash says in an antagonistic tone.
“Um. I’ll have, um. Is it alright if I get the Strawberry Bananarama?” Alex asks timidly.
“Sure,” Urie says politely, nonchalantly, and turns away to make the smoothies. In fact…he doesn’t even recognize them! Alex feels a momentary surge of relief, before getting kind of angry.
What the hell? So Urie doesn’t recognize the guy whose heart he broke? What, does Cash need to put on his lunch helper cap and plastic gloves to get anything? Seriously. Alex glares at the back of Urie’s head. Urie doesn’t notice.
The rest of the time passes in some kind of blur. Urie handing them their smoothies, Cash plunking the money down onto the counter with unnecessary force, and then them walking out of there.
Alex doesn’t think he breathes until they get back into Cash’s car.
“So. Uh,” Alex starts, and then stops, because, really? What the hell is he going to say?
“Let’s just go back to my house,” Cash says shortly.
The drive over there takes a silent five minutes, Cash drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and looking broodingly at the road. Alex, for his part, just grabs onto the door handle tightly, because Cash in a good mood is a terrible driver. And Cash is pretty far away from a good mood right now. It’s kind of strange; Cash is staring at the road with this burning intensity, and yet he still manages to miss stop signs and—one terrifying time—a stoplight. It’s a miracle they didn’t get stopped by a cop, really.
When they get to Cash’s house, it’s empty.
“Um. Are your parents out, or something?” Alex asks awkwardly.
Cash nods, still stiff. “They skipped to Reno for the weekend. It’s their anniversary.” He pauses. “Why? Hoping to catch a glimpse of my mom?”
“What? No! Of course not!”
Cash grunts, and without another word, he grabs Alex’s smoothie out of his hands (he hasn’t drunk from it; he kind of forgot he was even holding it) and dumps it in the trash along with his own.
“Let’s get smashed, dude.”
* * *
Um. Ew. Alex thinks his lips are burning. So is his tongue. And the roof of his mouth. And his throat; definitely his throat. What the fuck is this shit? It feels like he’s drinking unadulterated gasoline, or something equally terrible.
“What—what is this?” Alex asks, trying not to gag.
Cash shrugs, swilling back the stuff like it’s nothing. “My dad notices if I take, like, the regular beers. The only thing I can get away with is this, like, 10-year-old vodka, because he never touches it.”
“Vodka.”
“Yeah. ‘Snot that bad, really. You get used to it after a while.”
Really? Because Alex doesn’t think he can get used to it. Alex doesn’t want to get used to it. Honestly, it feels like his vocal cords are shriveling up. And also, it just tastes like shit. He stares unhappily into the plastic cup. The vodka twinkles back at him.
“C’mon, DeLeon, don’t be such a pussy. Have you never drunk alcohol before?” Cash asks, taunting.
“Of course I have! Just not, like, vodka.” Still, Alex tilts the cup back and takes another sip. It’s worse than the first, fuck. Maybe if he just, like…poured it into Cash’s cup. So he could pretend that he drank it all. It’s not like Cash would notice; there’s a made-for-TV movie playing in front of them that Cash looks completely engrossed in.
Cash starts laughing uproariously at something the retard main character did, and Alex grabs the opportunity to tip some vodka into Cash’s cup. It’s surprisingly easy to keep doing it; the movie is, apparently, really funny—Alex personally doesn’t see it—and Cash laughs more and more as the plot continues. Although, Alex isn’t actually sure if it’s the writers’ wit or Cash’s blood alcohol level helping them out.
An hour later, they’re deep into a pizza, and Cash is peering curiously into his cup.
“This is so weird, man. I could’ve sworn I didn’t pour this much into my cup.”
“Huh,” Alex says carefully. “That’s weird. Maybe you just weren’t keeping track of how much you were drinking.”
“…Yeah.” Unconcerned, Cash tosses back the rest of the vodka. “You done with your cup?”
“Yep! It was great! Really good.”
“Uh. Okay. You want more, or something?” Cash eyes him quizzically.
“Uh, no! I’m, um. I’m good. Really.” Alex tries out a small smile.
Cash shrugs, and pours himself another cup. Another movie comes on, equally stupid as the first, and they settle back to watch.
“D’you remember that one party last year that we went to?” Cash asks out of the blue some time later.
“Um. Yeah.” Cash had gotten totally sloshed, and he started making out with this one girl before puking all over her shirt. Alex had had to avert a potential homicide. And then he’d had to maneuver Cash into the car and drive him back home. Which, now that Alex thinks about it, was really quite the feat, considering he didn’t know how to drive.
“Tha’ night is r’ly fuzzy in my head,” Cash tells him solemnly. “I think I r’member something to do with you, like carryin’ me? Somewhere? Maybe?”
“Yeah, Cash,” Alex says patiently. “I had to take you home after you threw up all over Ashley and her Dolce and Gabbana handbag.”
“I din’t ever thank you for that, did I?” Cash slurs, looking kind of down.
“Um, no, not really,” Alex says truthfully.
“Well. Thanks, man,” Cash says very seriously.
“You’re, uh, welcome,” Alex says to Cash’s completely random expression of gratitude. What the hell brought this on?
“I jus’ feel like, like you’re always cleanin’ after me,” Cash says suddenly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, like. Like, I keep getting’ into these fuck-ups, and you’re always there t’put things back t’gether.”
“Well, uh.” Alex frowns. What’s he supposed to say to that?
“I’m not a very good friend, am I?” Cash says mournfully.
Alex laughs a little. “You do alright, I think.”
“No, really.” Cash looks deep into Alex’s eyes, very earnest. “I feel like you’re always doin’ stuff for me, and I don’ ever do anythin’ for you. Why are you even friends wi’me?”
Alex drapes his arm over Cash’s shoulder carefully, and pulls him a little closer. Hopefully, he’s not taking too much of a liberty. “Friendship isn’t like that, dude,” he begins. “It isn’t some system of give-and-take. Or, well, not really. Trust me, there are plenty of good reasons for us to be friends.”
Somewhere, Ian is feeling very proud of Alex, and doesn’t know why.
“Well. Tha’s good,” Cash slurs, looking slightly reassured. “’Cause, I mean, I don’ wanna lose you, or anything. That would suck. I know that sometimes I’m kind of an asshole.”
Alex wants to make some sort of crack about having this on record, but Cash is still looking at him solemnly, and he can’t. The air feels heavy around them, somehow, and Alex doesn’t want to disturb it.
“Don’t worry,” he says softly, mouth kind of dry. “You’re not ever going to lose me.”
Cash stares at him with big eyes, and something in Alex propels him, leaning forward slowly, so slowly, until their lips connect gently. Cash is completely still under him for a wracking second, and then he makes a small noise and opens his mouth, nudging Alex’s open too.
It’s…Wow. Alex is, like… Speechless in his own head, apparently. The kiss is kind of sloppy, and tastes a little too much of vodka, but Cash’s mouth is warm and soft and it just…feels right. Alex pushes forward slightly, nipping at Cash’s lower lip. They keep moving backward until Alex is practically on top of him on the couch.
Time passes in a weird way, and everything feels very hazy. Cash’s eyes have closed, and Alex can see the dark sweep of eyelashes across his cheek. Cash is kissing more languidly, their tongues sliding slowly together without much rhythm. Alex detaches gently to suck inquisitively at Cash’s lip, and Cash gives this kind of sigh, and suddenly slumps into the couch.
Alex pauses. Cash’s eyes are still closed, and he looks like he’s—like he’s snoring. Alex blinks. Is this…is this for real? He moves backward, getting off Cash’s legs and sitting back into the couch cushion. Cash doesn’t react, just continuing to snore softly. His mouth falls slightly open, and Alex can see a trail of drool beginning to form.
Well. This is…’a setback,’ Alex can hear Marshall say in his head. But, you know what? Maybe Cash has the right idea. It’s been getting kind of late. They can deal with this in the morning.
With all this firmly resolved in Alex’s head, he lays his head back and proceeds to fall asleep.
* * *
Alex smiles happily at Cash and then ducks in closer to kiss him. Cash cuddles up agreeably, opening his mouth and letting Alex suck on his tongue. He lets out a loud moan, and Alex smirks, pleased.
Cash moans again, with this weird edge to it, and Alex pauses, confused. Then Cash croaks, in a gruff voice, “Man, I feel like fucking shit.”
Wait. What?
Alex frowns, and then slowly blinks open gummy eyelids. Cash is lying next to him on the couch, a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun, and he’s whining piteously.
Oh. So it was a dream. Alex sighs and sits up properly. Ugh, he’s got the most terrible crick in his neck from sleeping on the couch.
“What’s wrong, dude?” he asks Cash.
“I’ve got this horrible hangover,” Cash groans. “Argh. How much vodka did I drink, anyway?”
Uh. Alex’s eyes slide sideways.
“Man, what are you even doing here?” Cash asks curiously.
“What are you talking about? You invited me over here. You know, after going to the Smoothie Hut?”
“Oh. Right. Dude, I can’t remember fucking anything from last night. Were we watching a movie or something?”
Alex stares at Cash with slowly dawning horror. “You don’t remember anything?”
“Uh, no. That’s what I just said, fucktard.”
“Not anything? Nothing from, oh, say, 11 PM last night?” Alex asks desperately.
“No.” Cash looks at him weirdly. “Why, did I do something?”
Alex lets out a long, shaky breath. “No. No, you didn’t.”
* * *
So. Apparently Cash was too sloshed last night to remember their kiss. It wasn’t even a kiss, it was a full-blown make-out! What the fuck?
Alex frowns, scrunching up his forehead. Cash must have been way drunker than Alex thought he was. So drunk that he couldn’t record anything in his memory.
Wait. That means he was so drunk…Too drunk to do anything. Too drunk to properly consent. To…anything.
Alex gasps, hands coming up to clutch his forehead. Images from the last night run through his head. Him pouring increasing amounts of vodka into Cash’s cup, Cash obliviously just drinking all of it, Cash getting sloppier and sloppier as the night went on…
Did Alex just drug and then daterape Cash with his tongue last night?
This is terrible! Alex has heard about those creeps who ply girls with drinks and then fuck them when they’re too drunk to see straight! He just never realized that he…might turn out to be one of them. Fuck.
Alex slumps into his bed and stares up at the ceiling. Cash was right. Alex must be some kind of fucking pervert. How else could he have gotten Cash drunk and then molested him—all on accident?
* * *
Monday is corndog day. Alex is actually kind of looking forward to it for once, just the mindless activity of heating stuff and putting them in cartons. Maybe then he can stop thinking about what he did.
“Hey, DeLeon?”
“I’m sorry!” he squawks, voice jumping up an octave. “I really didn’t mean to!”
It’s Marshall. “Um…what the hell?”
Alex breathes out slowly. “Uh, nothing. Nothing. What’s up?” He can feel sweat trickling down his neck.
“Dude, what the hell is up with you?” Marshall asks. “Why were you apologizing?”
“No reason! I just, uh—you know. I had a weird dream last night,” Alex says rapidly.
“Yeah fucking right.” Marshall looks at him, unimpressed.
“What’s going on?” Ian asks from behind Alex, and Alex, just maybe, lets out a little scream. He’s on edge, okay? He’s entitled. He fucking dateraped his best friend with his tongue Friday night.
“Uh, wow,” Johnson says slowly. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m feeling fine! Totally fine!” Alex speaks even faster, and his foot starts doing a nervous tap.
“Yeah, no,” Johnson says. “What the hell happened?”
Alex sighs, defeated. Maybe…Maybe it would be best to tell them. A load off his chest, and everything.
So he does.
After he finishes talking for five minutes straight, though, they don’t say anything. Johnson looks suspiciously blank, but that’s normal. What isn’t normal is Ian’s weirdly constipated expression, and Marshall’s sudden coughing fit.
“Uh. Guys?”
Ian’s face is getting really red. Then he takes a deep breath and regains a hold on himself. “I think,” he says slowly, “what you need to do first is tell him.”
“Yeah,” Marshall wheezes. “That would definitely be a start.”
“Tell him?” Alex says. “But—he’d never forgive me!”
“Tell him,” Johnson says firmly.
“Doesn’t he deserve to know?” Ian asks.
“Yeah,” Marshall says, and then coughs again. “Wouldn’t you want to know if you were, uh, dateraped?” Marshall starts coughing again, and Alex thumps him on the back helpfully. Maybe Marshall’s getting a cold.
“That’s true,” Alex says thoughtfully. “I would want to know.”
“As would we all,” Johnson says in a monotone. Alex eyes him. Johnson always speaks in a monotone when he’s making fun of him.
“But I can’t tell him at school,” Alex frets, pacing up and down the hallway. “I don’t want everyone to know what I did.”
“Then tell him somewhere else,” Ian says shrugging.
Alex sighs. “Fine.”
* * *
Alex bites his nails nervously. Is Cash coming, or not? Ugh. He pulls at a strand of his hair.
This was all a complete mess. Alex had skipped lunch duty, because he just couldn’t look Cash in the eyes. And instead, he’d written a note and stuffed it in Cash’s locker.
The note was, admittedly, a little vague. But Alex didn’t know what else to write without giving it all away! So it’d gone something along the lines of:
Cash,
Meet me at my house this afternoon after school ends. Come alone.
DeLeon
Okay. So, maybe Marshall was right, and it sounded a little like a ransom note, or something. Alex resumes biting on his nails. This is going to be such a disaster.
“Hey, DeLeon!” Alex turns around and sees Cash walking toward him leisurely. “What’s up? Your note was kind of…weird. And why weren’t you at lunch duty today?”
“I—I need to tell you something,” Alex stammers.
“Um, okay. What?” Cash looks so casual, so unworried. Alex gulps.
“I, um. I…You might want to sit down.” Alex wrings his hands and leads Cash over to their front porch. They sit down on the steps.
“You’re kind of freaking me out, man,” Cash says, still half-smiling like he thinks this is all a joke. “Why so serious?” he cracks.
“I,” Alex starts, and then takes a deep breath. “I did something really terrible Friday night.”
Cash starts looking a little more concerned. “You kill someone, or what? But you were with me the whole time, dude, you couldn’t have. Oh, wait.” Cash’s face suddenly becomes a lot more grave.
Alex stares at Cash, heart thumping. Did he figure it out?
“Did you steal some of my mom’s underwear while I was asleep, or something?” Cash asks with a straight face.
“No!” Alex snaps. “Can you please stop it with the mom jokes? This is serious!”
“Okay, okay, sorry.” Cash holds his hands up.
Alex sighs. “Cash, I might have…I mean, I did…” He squeezes his eyes shut and perseveres. “I poured all my vodka into your cup on Friday night because I didn’t want to drink it!” he says in a rush.
Cash blinks.
“So you were a lot drunker than you thought you were!”
“Um, that’s really okay, dude. You can stop wigging out. And you could have just told me you didn’t want it. I mean, the less vodka you drink, the more there is for me, right?” Cash smiles at Alex soothingly.
“No, but—“ Alex wrings his hands some more. “That’s not the terrible thing I did!”
“So what is?” Cash asks.
“After you drank all the alcohol and got really drunk, I, uh, I…” Alex stares at the ground miserably.
“Dude, just spit it out,” Cash says, sounding a little annoyed.
“I took advantage of your inebriation and molested you!” Alex says rapidly, and then closes his eyes. He can’t look at Cash.
There’s silence. Alex opens his eyes slowly, cautiously. Cash is staring at him. He blinks slowly.
“You…what?”
“I made out with you while you were too drunk to consent,” Alex repeats wretchedly.
“But…why?”
“Because I kind of, I kind of like you, okay? I’ve liked you for years, and then when Urie was finally out of the picture, I thought I could…I don’t know.”
“You’ve liked me for years?” Cash says unbelievingly.
“Um. Maybe?”
“And you’ve only now told me, after molesting my drunken self?” Cash goes on.
“I’m really, really sorry, Cash, I know what I did was totally unforgiveable, and if you never want to see me again I completely understand, I’m just so sorry.” Alex looks at Cash, biting his lip.
“I just—I just can’t believe you actually did that,” Cash says slowly.
“I know! It was horrible of me!” Alex agrees hurriedly.
“No, I mean…I can’t believe you did that. It sounds more like something I would do,” Cash says.
“It does?” Alex pauses. Thinks about it. Huh.
“You know, I think you might be right,” Alex says.
“Yeah.”
“So, you forgive me?” Alex asks hopefully.
Cash rolls his eyes. “There’s nothing to forgive, fucktard. More importantly, I think we need to rewind to that part where you said you’ve liked me for years.”
“We do?” Alex asks stupidly.
“Yeah, we do,” Cash says, and promptly sticks his hand down Alex’s pants.
And okay, Alex maybe shrieked and scooted away, because he was caught by surprise, all right, but no one can prove anything. Except for maybe Cash. And the neighbor’s dog.
The more important part is what comes afterward, and which doesn’t involve any shrieking and scooting away. And which also doesn’t involve being groped in the middle of the neighborhood in broad daylight, because Alex really doesn’t want to explain this to his mom just yet, okay?
But it does involve groping. And that is all Alex DeLeon is saying on the subject.
(Although Cash might be persuaded to tell you more.)
End.