By Dr. P
Summary: Robbie and Clay are too cool for school. Love them. Because they love you. And each other.
Call Me A Pansy And I'll Call You A Daffodil
There's nothing better than the smell of chlorine on skin, I decide, pushing my nose into the soft spot behind Clay's ear and inhaling the sweet scent of pool and wet.
"That tickles," he sort of giggles, a muscle in his forearm twitching as he tries to scoot away from me on the couch. Except he's not really trying hard and I'm not going to let him so his efforts are useless really.
I pin his arms to his sides in a wrestler hold and press my whole face to his neck, licking a stripe of skin from his collarbone to his jaw with the flat of my tongue. He tastes fucking delicious.
"We just went swimming," he says, stretching his neck to the side as if inviting me to lick some more.
"Mmhmm," I murmur, ruffling his wet hair, my fingers getting stuck in the tangles.
"In the pool."
"Duh," I agree, rolling my eyes even though only the back of Clay's head can see as I bury my face in his wet hair.
"You know, the place where little kids hop around in their swimmy diapers and pee," he tells me as if it should be significant, trying to turn his head to look at me. "And now you're licking me."
"Yeah," I agree, licking his ear. "You taste really good. Like summer."
"But it's like November," Jordon states the obvious, twirling goggles in his hand like numb chucks.
"So?" I challenge, raising one eyebrow at him and randomly licking Clay's forehead just to make a point even when there is no point.
"Do you guys need me to inconspicuously get an urge to go into the kitchen or something?" he asks, tone nonchalant, propping his bare feet on my coffee table and dripping water everywhere. "I could really go for a peanut butter sandwich anyway."
"Nah," I decide, flinging my hand in his direction. "We're not gonna do anything. I just want to lick him." Clay visibly pouts.
Jordon just shrugs and, after shaking the water out of his hair like a dog, gets up and goes into the kitchen anyway.
"Maybe you should go get us some towels," Clay suggests, smiling at me innocently. "We made suspicious wet spots on your couch. And I'm cold."
"I know," I say and grin back. "Your nipples are all perky." I resist the urge to lick one and go get the towels and some dry clothes instead.
I grab the Tarzan towel cause it's awesome and the Spiderman towel cause Jordan's always had a thing for guys in tights (but not in a gay way) and haul them back to the living room.
I make a pit stop in the kitchen and throw Spiderman at Jordon who hands me half of a peanut butter sandwich as payment, nodding at me with a mouth full of bread. I smile back a drag the other towel behind me back to the living room like Lionel with his blanket.
Clay is in the living room, lying sprawled out on my couch right where I left him (and damnit if he isn't just making the couch even wetter) like a puppy who just had a bath and now just wants to relax and be petted cause he smells clean. I haul him up off the couch and begin to dry his hair, rubbing really hard until he grunts and tries to shove me away, but I just move further down his body, rub his pale tummy and wrap the towel around his waist, yanking him towards me like a yo-yo (sort of).
"Okay," Jordan begins as he comes into the room, mouth smacking with the effort of opening while being stuck together with peanut butter. "That had to have been the best sandwich. Ever. My goodness."
"Speaking of the best sandwich ever," Clay says, jumping back onto the couch and completely covering his body with pillows. "Let's watch some television."
I squeeze myself into the space between Jordan and the end of the couch, his feet somehow tangling with my arm, but whatever, he's wearing socks. The remote magically changes to some Queer Eye for the Straight Guy episode and we can't change it because there's a girl on there who isn't a girl anymore but a guy and we're all confused so we just can't stop watching.
"Why on earth would she want to be a guy?" Jordan starts off, continuing on with some feminist bullshit. "Being a girl is so much more fun and you get away with everything and you don't have to jerk off every twenty-four hours. Saves a lot of valuable time."
"Who the heck wouldn't want to jerk off every twenty-four hours?" Clays says startled. "It's the highlight of my day."
"Maybe she was sick of dating butch chicks so she got a sex change to… enlarge the ocean so to speak. Add more fish to the pond. You know, so she could date straight chicks too," I decide and Clay and Jordan shrug. "Then again, a straight guy might get a sex change too. Maybe he liked boobs so much he decided to get a pair of his own."
"Ugh, I don't want boobs," Clay says, scrunching up his nose. "Boobs are gross."
"Me neither," Jordan and I voice at the same time. "They're fun and all but they'd just get in the way," says Jordan, wiggling his toes underneath a cushion of the couch for warmth.
"I love being a guy," Clay states proudly, slapping his feet on the table, scratching his bare belly, and belching in a show of manliness. I poke his stomach half-way through the burp, turning it into a hacking cough that sends him half-sprawled onto Jordan.
"Hey, lets go play scrabble," Jordan says when Clay lands in his lap, pushing him off and to the floor.
"Since when do I own scrabble?" I ask, trying to think back and only coming up with memories of Clay chucking a checkers board at me when I called him fat in seventh grade.
"Since I stole it from Dani and hid it under your bed. That's when."
And sure enough when we got back to my room, there it was, stuck between my box of junk and a tennis racquet that couldn't possibly be mine since I don't play tennis. I got it out after a few hard yanks.
"Anyone want it?" I ask, pulling a half-eaten lollipop off of the box and holding it out to them.
They shake their heads disgustedly so I just shrug, pull off the hairs stuck on it, and stick it in my mouth.
"That's highly unsanitary, Robbie," Jordan points out while Clay looks like he's about to throw up.
"I know," I say, trying to decide whether the flavor is grape or lemon. "Hopefully I'll get mono or something."
Jordan just winces.
"Hey Clay," I say, trying to get his attention.
"What?" He turns his head.
And that's when I pounce, slipping him the tongue before he can do anything about it, pinning his shoulders to the floor and giving it to him good. I'm laughing while my tongue in his mouth which makes this kinda difficult. I'm pretty much just breathing and spitting all over him. Ha.
"Oh god," he says when I finally let him go. "Ew." He rushes into the bathroom.
"Hey! That's my toothbrush!" I yell after him.
"Muff foo!" he says while trying to brush his teeth and give me the finger simultaneously.
I stuff the lollipop back into my mouth, grinning around the stick.
"Scrabble guys," Jordan repeats when Clay comes back from the bathroom. "Scrabble."
"Yeah. Okay. Me first," I say, spelling out the word on the board. "Beat that, fucker."
"Don't count your chickens before they hatch, fool," Clay growls, obviously still mad about the hole tongue mono thing. He's such a girl.
He ads the lettersbelow the s of aqueous, obviously pleased with his selection and grinning like the little shithead he is. I stick my tongue out at him and chuck my lollipop stick at him and miss.
"Hey, you can't do that," I say, poking him in the chest. "No names."
"Squirtle is not a name," he says, glaring in my face and poking me back a little bit harder. "He's a Pokemon."
"Whatever," I growl, flicking the e off the end of his word. "You're just mad cause you suck at Scrabble, bitch."
"Am not!" he exclaims, tackling me onto the board and knocking the pieces everywhere.
"Guys! Guys!" Jordan yells, trying to get our attention. "If you just take off the l and the e it'll be the word squirt! Guys! Violence doesn't solve anything!"
"So?" Clay asks, grounding my back into some hard thing and making me moan in pain. "It's fun."
I reach up and yank on the collar of his shirt, crushing his mouth to mine and biting his lower lip until he pulls back with a yelp. I push him off me and he slams back onto one of my bedposts.
"You fight dirty, Robbie Joel," he says, fingering his throbbing lip and glaring at me.
I rearrange some letters onto the board and point to it.
I love this chapter! So… you guys better like it too. It makes me smile. I missed my boys so much!
If anyone's wondering what the fuck is going on with the next chapter of Saturday Morning Cartoons, basically it's all planned out in my head but I'm too lazy to type it all out. There's just no self-motivation. I mean, they're doing their thing in my head and that's all fine and good, but I do love to share it with other people. I just gotta remind myself that.
I don't feel like doing review responses.
A BIG KISS TO: Inherent, Finger Dingbat, Limited Edition, w00t, Letty Merrylegs, Rachizzle, Keterah, Twinkie-Chan, Tums, K.T. Wood, Collar de Espinas, Hitori-Hoshi, SerialXLain, Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge, Abby Lou, The-Tricky-Candlesticks, Zwitter, Ryan, Kitsune Lover, magalina, SweetChicagoJazz, tia-blue, write25, Validity, Satan's Angelic Mistress, and also A Green Revolution.