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xp_logsMiles and Bobby do what college kids do best: party, get drunk, hit on girls, and accidentally make out with each other.
Not to say that the dorm room Miles and Ganke shared was ever spick and span, but it was a disaster area right now. In addition to the usual curricular detritus, a good portion of Miles's wardrobe was on the floor as he, clad only in his boxers, dug through his dresser like an obsessed archaeologist. He had to find just the right outfit for tonight. Not for his own sake, necessarily (although he still needed to make a good impression), but for Bobby's, who sat on Miles's bed looking distinctly uncomfortable.
"You can't just wear a hockey jersey and old jeans tonight," Miles gently scolded his friend. Not if I'm going to find a girl to hook you up with, he thought. Just because I'm not getting any doesn't mean you can't. "Here, wear this." He found a short-sleeve button-down black shirt and tossed it to Bobby. He was taller than Miles, but Miles was more muscular, so he hoped the difference would even out.
"Dude it totally depends on what team it is, to be honest."
Bobby reached out and caught the shirt. The first thing he did was lift it to his nose and take a sniff. Once it had passed the sniff test - check! - he unfolded it and took a closer look at it. Of course Bobby knew absolutely nothing about fashion, so he had no idea whether it was a good shirt or not, but he'd take his roomie's word on it.
"So you want I should try it on, or...." He didn't know whether a pair of pants or something else would be tossed in his direction soon or not, after all.
Still digging through the pile to find something for himself, Miles grunted an assent. "Do you need me to dress you? We ready to take our relationship to that level?" he teased. "Here, if that doesn't fit, I got these. Warren picked them out, or I guess his assistant who does all his shopping did, so that'll impress." He held up another pair of shirts, one a canary yellow, the other icy blue.
"Hah, you wish. That'd take at least three dinners first. Or hockey games." Bobby thought about that for a second. "Or a combination of the two, I'm not really all that picky."
He wrinkled his nose at the yellow one. "Icy blue FTW, as back up anyway." Making a gimme motion with his hand, he sniffed that one too once he had it. Good to go! So he pulled off his shirt and reached for the black shirt first, putting that one on to see how it looked. "Thoughts? Opinions?"
"I hope you put on deodorant first." Probably should have checked that first. Miles pulled his head through a long-sleeved ribbed t-shirt -- perfect to call attention to his super-spider physique -- and considered Bobby. Not that he was a particularly good judge of fashion, but putting himself in the mind of someone who would want to get asked out by Bobby, he shook his head. "Go with the blue."
"'Course I did," he lied. Bobby whipped off the black shirt and tossed it in Miles' general direction before putting on the blue one. He looked down at himself and nodded in agreement, completely taking Miles' word. "Yeah, you're right, this one's better."
"Wait, if I wear a new shirt, that means I can wear my own jeans with it, right?" Only one part of his outfit had to be new; that's how it worked, wasn't it?
Miles snorted as he pulled on his own jeans. "Yeah, right. They wouldn't fit. And like you want to get in my pants, anyway." He looked in the small mirror hanging from a hook on the wall and brushed his hair to his satisfaction. "All right, I think we're fit to be in the presence of ladies. I won't be offended if you end up not coming back here tonight," he said, giving Bobby a lascivious wink.
"Hah, of course they wouldn't, my dick's too big, boom." Wait, was that actually a burn? "I mean, not that I want to put my d- to put that in your pants, I'm just sayin', it wouldn't fit. In your pants." Bobby turned around and put his own jeans on and tried to shut up, at least until he was completely dressed. Once that was done he slowly turned around, making sure his roomie was fully dressed too before trying to speak again.
"Or if you come back and there's a sock on the door, aw yeah." They both knew that was highly unlikely but shh. He put his fist out for Miles to bump.
It seemed like there was a lot to unpack there, and Miles tried for a second, but he had to stop thinking so much when it came to thoughts of Bobby's body. Shaking his head to clear it, he returned Bobby's gesture and then grabbed his wallet, keys, and phone from his desk. This was going to be epic.
An hour later, Miles was four shots in and needed to lean against the bedframe to stand upright. He'd expected the dozenish dormmates to be cramped on the double, but not quite as much booze. He couldn't complain. Literally. Every time he opened his mouth, he'd start laughing. He hoped he was at least helping Bobby's jokes land.
"Maaaan," Bobby slurred, sloshing some of the cheap scotch out of his red solo cup. "'N here I was thinkin' scotch was, like, tape and shit, haha." He started a laugh that quickly turned into a cough before taking another sip of scotch and then coughing even more. "It keeps ya warm though, fffffffffffff. Good thing I'm a cool dude, right? Shhhhhhhhhhh." He winked and put a finger up to what he thought was his lips, but in reality was his nose.
Miles slapped a hand over his mouth, scandalized. "Duuuude noooooooo. They don't knooooooow." He reached behind him to grab a handful of chips — when the heck did someone put out chips? — and plucked out a few with his mouth. "C'mon, lemme introduce you to Julie. She's the one in the black and she's got the tramp stamp." The young woman in question turned around and leaned over to grab her phone, revealing some geometric design on her back that went below the waistline. "Cool her down, sabes?"
"HAY GURL," he started, laying his cup down and, completely by luck alone, not knocking it over in the process. "A little birdie," Bobby openly gestured over to Miles, "told me that you like stamps. Or ramps? Wait, do you like skateboard? Shit, I can show you some mooooves if you do, but full disclosure, I dunno sweet eff all about stamps, other than you lick 'em, am I right? Hahaha!" He tried to wink but ended up blinking both of his eyes at the same time, then staggered backwards into Miles.
With that kind of play, Miles wanted to just let Bobby fall, but he was too drunk to ignore his spider-reflexes and catch him before he totally lost his footing. But when to Miles's shock, Julie laughed and did not run in terror, he changed his tune, patting Bobby on the shoulder and laughing heartily, too. So heartily he fell into a coughing fit.
"Milesy has my back, see? Nothin' to worry about." Bobby swallowed another burp and patted Miles on the back in kind. "He always has my back, did you know he dressed me tonight? And that my dick won't fit in his jeans?" While strictly true, his alcohol-addled brain forgot about that whole thing called 'context.'
Perhaps it was to both boys' fortune that the host of the party, a history major named Nadia, interrupted them, holding up an empty vodka bottle. "Okay, wait, I have an idea, you guys. Let's plaaaaaay spin the bottle!"
Julia looked at her like she'd been looking at Bobby. "Ohmigod are we in middle school again?"
"C'mon, it'll be hilarious."
"We're in!" Miles enthusiastically volunteered, nudging Bobby's arm. Maybe if they let an inanimate object do all the work, everything would be easier.
"Shit yeah we're in, let's spin that mother." He wasn't fully comprehending precisely what that game entailed, Bobby just wanted to actually do something instead of talking about doing stuff. Or something. His mind was a little foggy at the moment at any rate. He picked up his glass and polished off his scotch, then squinted into the glass before turning it upside down to indicate its emptiness to the world. "I'm-a need a refill though."
"Don't worry about it, bro. Maybe good to cool down for a minute." Advice Miles took himself, slamming down one last shot before promising himself to pause until after the game. He patted Bobby on the shoulder and followed Nadia to the circle of people assembling on the floor. Boys were outnumbered a bit, which were odds he liked.
As the host, Nadia took the first spin. Most of the kisses that happened were short little pecks, everyone too self-conscious despite the social lubrication to do much more. Julie landing on her roommate Arianna garnered them a solid minute of hooting and hollering. There wasn't quite so much enthusiasm from the room when Arianna landed on Miles, but he was more than happy to make it up on his own. And as far as he could tell, she was pleased when she sat back down, too.
But if girl-on-girl action excited everyone, that was nothing compared to the reaction when Miles spun the bottle and the tip pointed to Bobby.
"Dude, which end of the bottle is it that we use again?" Bobby asked, scratching his head. Because it was pointing at him with the end that he thought they were using, but Miles spun it. So that meant... wait, no, maybe it was the opposite end. Yeah, no, that had to be the case. He was just forgetting the rules because he was drunk.
"Bro, it's the tip, bro!" one of the partygoers helpfully reminded Bobby. "You kiss Morales! You kiss Morales!" He started a cheer, and a few of the others caught on. "You kiss Morales!"
Now it was impossible to tell if Miles's face darkened from inebriation or embarrassment. He glanced worriedly from Bobby to Julie to the others and back. "Yo, it means nothing, alright?" he reassured Bobby. And before he lost his nerve or his friend could react, Miles grabbed either side of Bobby's face and pulled him in. He pressed his lips against Bobby's, and he was sort of surprised his first thought was to wonder what brand of lip balm Bobby used, or if his lips just naturally tasted like mint. His lips were soft, too, not jagged and chapped like he assumed all guys' were. The cheering got louder, subliminally encouraging Miles's tongue (it had a mind of its own, he swore it) to playfully tease apart Bobby's lips and land them solidly at first base.
Not having experienced many kisses period, Bobby had no real idea what to expect from this, only that it would likely be awkward. What was most awkward of it all, however, was that he kinda liked it. He couldn't put his finger on it but it felt, well. It felt good. He'd been expecting something rougher than what his lips actually felt, which threw him for a total loop.
Then Miles' tongue made its entrance and whoops, that broke his concentration and snapped him out of whatever spell he'd just been under. Bobby's eyes went wide and he pulled away, careful not to bite the other boy's tongue in the process.
"Whoa man, I, uh." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, not sure exactly what he was expecting to wipe away but he didn't know what to do with his hands, or what to do in general. "I gotta take a piss man, bee are bee." Bobby stumbled as he got to his feet, wobbling a bit once he was fully erect before making a beeline for the washroom.
Everyone else was laughing too hard and hooting and hollering to notice either Bobby's exit or Miles following him. He couldn't explain what he'd just done or what it meant. He could blame it on the booze, and probably would, but even through his drunken haze, he could tell it had not been unwelcome. He followed Bobby to the bathroom, thankfully otherwise empty, but stood at the door, apprehensive about getting too close.
"Yo, you okay, man? You disappeared."
"Oh yeah, no, I just had to pee. Like, a lot." That's when Bobby realized he wasn't actually urinating, so he turned on one of the faucets above the sink. In his inebriated state he didn't think that'd be enough, so he also turned on the second faucet, doubling the water pressure, just to be sure. "There we go, it's flowin' now, man!" Maybe a little too much, he started to realize, at about the same time he realized he hadn't locked the door behind him either.
"Oh okay, I just thought maybe . . ." Miles put his hands in his pockets, then took them out and crossed his arms, and then put them in his back pockets. He had to find something to do with them. "You're gonna miss your turn at the game if you're here too long."
Thinking he'd had them on long enough, Bobby turned the faucets off. "Oh, nah, that's ok. I mean, their loss, right? But I'm pretty drunk and maybe I should just go home or something." He hesitated, then went over and opened the bathroom door, peeking out through the crack. "How... how are you feelin'? You good?"
"Me? I'm good," Miles answered, his voice cracking. Just the booze, not nerves. Hands behind his back now. "You sure, man? It's a long Uber drive back. We can go back to my dorm, you can crash there." Not that he expected to convince Bobby, or he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to. "Yo . . . you're not mad, are you?"
"Nah, not at all, just getting a little, I dunno." He opened the door a little more and scratched the back of his head. "I probably just need to sleep it off, heh. And yeah, I can crash at your dorm if it's closer." It'd be cheaper than going back to the mansion anyway, Bobby told himself. That was the only reason why anyway.
Miles nodded and led Bobby back to his room, taking care to avoid being spotted by the party in case they got the wrong idea. He fumbled for his key to unlock his door, and would have tripped over the pile of clothes were it not for super reflexes. He didn't make quite the perfect landing he would have sober, but at least he avoided falling on his face. His shirt was halfway over his head before he remembered Bobby was there, and a bout of self-consciousness had him hastily pull it back down, nearly tearing the neck. So much for that nice shirt.
"You can sleep in Ganke's bed. I think he's not coming back tonight."
"Ok, can do." Bobby had the same idea of disrobing but hesitated as well. Should he just get under the covers and then remove some clothing? That seemed a bit weird and childish, there was no reason he couldn't take some clothes off in front of his roomie. It wasn't like he'd be getting naked or anything.
Bobby looked over at Miles and blinked, then shook his head a bit. Naked, no, not at all. Nothing like that. Bare chests were ok, that was perfectly fine. Miles still had his shirt on but maybe he was just waiting for him? His alcohol-clouded mind wasn't sure, so he eventually just said fuck it and took his shirt off, tossing it on the foot of Ganke's bed before peeling back the covers.
"So he won't be home then and, like, I dunno." He sat down and started fumbling with his jeans. "Get into bed with me by accident or something?" Bobby tried to play it off as a joke but he didn't want to steal someone else's bed just the same. "I mean, if you thought he might then I'd just sleep on the floor or something. Or on top of your bed, hah." He slid one leg out and then kicked his jeans off, sending them flying a bit further than he meant in Miles' direction, whoops.
This time, Miles's spider-sense did not save him and he got a face full of Bobby's pants. He hastily threw them off, like he'd just been accosted by a bug or mouse or something. "Bro." Heart still beating too fast, Miles flicked off the lights before undressing and getting into his own bed. This was more uncomfortable than that time he'd walked in on Bobby whacking it. Why? "It's fine, Gank's at some girl's place tonight." How he was getting so much play when the most Miles got was accidental drunken make-out with his ex-roommate was beyond Miles.
A little part of him told him he was being completely ridiculous. It was just a meaningless game. Grow up. It didn't mean anything to Nadia and Arianna, so it shouldn't mean anything to them.
"Your lips taste like mint." Yes, that would surely ease the tension. Miles could have smacked himself.
"What." Bobby couldn't stop himself from saying that out loud because what? Of course his lips had to taste like something, he supposed, but mint? He subconsciously ran his tongue over his lower lip and yup, there it was. Maybe it was the alcohol or something, but Miles was right.
Oh god. Miles had kissed him and tasted his lips and that's where that came from and oh god. He hadn't forgotten it - it'd only been less than an hour or so ago after all - but he'd been trying not to think about it, but now he had hard, concrete evidence in the form of taste that it'd happened.
"Yours... yours were, like. Normal tasting." That was all his brain could come up with, honest to god.
"I mean, not that I taste guys' lips a lot to know or anything. Not that there's anything wrong with that, either, but y'know. Not... not minty. But not bad either."
He peeked over at the nightstand next to the bed, hoping Ganke had some kind of sleeping pill or Nyquil or some shit to just knock him out already.
"Yeah, of course, me neither," Miles hastily replied. This was the extent of his experience with that, and he had no plans to experiment any more. "I didn't think how different it'd be from girls. Becky has bigger lips, and she always wore that beeswax kinda lip balm. You got thin little white boy lips."
"My lips aren't thin," he said defensively. "I mean, I don't think they are, but again, I dunno." Bobby frowned and reached up to touch his mouth, wondering whether he could actually tell if they were thin or not.
"Wait, she put beeswax on her lips? That sounds weird. Who does that?" He was much happier to talk about that, and how weird that was, instead of what had actually happened.
Miles nodded, forgetting that they could not see each other in the dark. "That Burt's Bees or whatever. And yeah you do. Kissing you's like kissing, I dunno, kissing a piece of burnt toast. No offense."
"Burnt toast? The fuck does -" Bobby found himself starting to argue, then stopped. Because he didn't care what Miles thought about his kissing, that'd be crazy. Why would he care about that? "Eh, whatever, heh. Kissing is stupid." Not really but he didn't know what else to say at the moment.
"Sure it is, cumpa," Miles said through a yawn. "Kiss me again and you'll . . ." Whatever Bobby would do was not revealed, as drunken slumber finally overtook Miles and he dreamed of struggling through a blizzard, the frigid air and biting winds threatening to freeze-dry him like one of those European cavemen, but finding warmth and comfort in the arms of an indistinct figure that effortlessly parted the curtain of snow.
-
When he woke up the next morning, Bobby's head was threatening to detach itself and float away, it was throbbing and aching so much. He'd have been happy to have that happen, but as he sat up his stomach suddenly joined in with the whole swelling and general-not-feeling-good stuff. Ugh.
He looked over at Miles' sleeping form and then it all came flooding back to him, the parts he could remember. Kissing, that was a thing he remembered. Not that he wanted to, Bobby told himself, but then a part of him was saying he did, maybe. Or wouldn't? It wasn't clear, and he started to shake his head before immediately stopping. It was stop or risk throwing up all over Ganke's bed, and nope.
The only answer was to get out of there, at least that's the only immediate answer that presented itself to him. So Bobby quietly and carefully got dressed, took his belongings, and slipped outside of the bedroom. He'd have to try and make sense of it all later, if he could.
It was a good half hour later that Miles awoke, though his definition of "awake" was questionable. The usual post-drinking hangover headache, double vision, and mouth full of cotton balls all made it an inviting proposition to shut his eyes and go back to the dream he now could not remember, but a full bladder argued otherwise. Miles actually weighed the pros and cons of not going to the bathroom — "It'll be warm for a minute," he said out load, his voice hoarse as if he had been screaming all night — but ultimately decided it was in everyone's best interest to be an adult.
Miles picked up his phone when he returned, noticing he had forgotten to plug it in before he went to bed, and grimaced at the number of texts he'd missed. Several from his dormmates who had wondered where he had run off to, including a couple with some rather lascivious ideas. He did not understand what they meant until someone included a photo they had taken at the party . . .
His head immediately snapped to Ganke's empty bed, and Miles swore. Bobby was already gone. He must have lost his cool when he woke up and ran away. Miles moaned in frustration, gripping his phone so tightly he nearly crushed it and instead only succeeded in cracking the screen. He swore again, falling back onto his bed. He had to fix this but he had no idea how.
Not to say that the dorm room Miles and Ganke shared was ever spick and span, but it was a disaster area right now. In addition to the usual curricular detritus, a good portion of Miles's wardrobe was on the floor as he, clad only in his boxers, dug through his dresser like an obsessed archaeologist. He had to find just the right outfit for tonight. Not for his own sake, necessarily (although he still needed to make a good impression), but for Bobby's, who sat on Miles's bed looking distinctly uncomfortable.
"You can't just wear a hockey jersey and old jeans tonight," Miles gently scolded his friend. Not if I'm going to find a girl to hook you up with, he thought. Just because I'm not getting any doesn't mean you can't. "Here, wear this." He found a short-sleeve button-down black shirt and tossed it to Bobby. He was taller than Miles, but Miles was more muscular, so he hoped the difference would even out.
"Dude it totally depends on what team it is, to be honest."
Bobby reached out and caught the shirt. The first thing he did was lift it to his nose and take a sniff. Once it had passed the sniff test - check! - he unfolded it and took a closer look at it. Of course Bobby knew absolutely nothing about fashion, so he had no idea whether it was a good shirt or not, but he'd take his roomie's word on it.
"So you want I should try it on, or...." He didn't know whether a pair of pants or something else would be tossed in his direction soon or not, after all.
Still digging through the pile to find something for himself, Miles grunted an assent. "Do you need me to dress you? We ready to take our relationship to that level?" he teased. "Here, if that doesn't fit, I got these. Warren picked them out, or I guess his assistant who does all his shopping did, so that'll impress." He held up another pair of shirts, one a canary yellow, the other icy blue.
"Hah, you wish. That'd take at least three dinners first. Or hockey games." Bobby thought about that for a second. "Or a combination of the two, I'm not really all that picky."
He wrinkled his nose at the yellow one. "Icy blue FTW, as back up anyway." Making a gimme motion with his hand, he sniffed that one too once he had it. Good to go! So he pulled off his shirt and reached for the black shirt first, putting that one on to see how it looked. "Thoughts? Opinions?"
"I hope you put on deodorant first." Probably should have checked that first. Miles pulled his head through a long-sleeved ribbed t-shirt -- perfect to call attention to his super-spider physique -- and considered Bobby. Not that he was a particularly good judge of fashion, but putting himself in the mind of someone who would want to get asked out by Bobby, he shook his head. "Go with the blue."
"'Course I did," he lied. Bobby whipped off the black shirt and tossed it in Miles' general direction before putting on the blue one. He looked down at himself and nodded in agreement, completely taking Miles' word. "Yeah, you're right, this one's better."
"Wait, if I wear a new shirt, that means I can wear my own jeans with it, right?" Only one part of his outfit had to be new; that's how it worked, wasn't it?
Miles snorted as he pulled on his own jeans. "Yeah, right. They wouldn't fit. And like you want to get in my pants, anyway." He looked in the small mirror hanging from a hook on the wall and brushed his hair to his satisfaction. "All right, I think we're fit to be in the presence of ladies. I won't be offended if you end up not coming back here tonight," he said, giving Bobby a lascivious wink.
"Hah, of course they wouldn't, my dick's too big, boom." Wait, was that actually a burn? "I mean, not that I want to put my d- to put that in your pants, I'm just sayin', it wouldn't fit. In your pants." Bobby turned around and put his own jeans on and tried to shut up, at least until he was completely dressed. Once that was done he slowly turned around, making sure his roomie was fully dressed too before trying to speak again.
"Or if you come back and there's a sock on the door, aw yeah." They both knew that was highly unlikely but shh. He put his fist out for Miles to bump.
It seemed like there was a lot to unpack there, and Miles tried for a second, but he had to stop thinking so much when it came to thoughts of Bobby's body. Shaking his head to clear it, he returned Bobby's gesture and then grabbed his wallet, keys, and phone from his desk. This was going to be epic.
An hour later, Miles was four shots in and needed to lean against the bedframe to stand upright. He'd expected the dozenish dormmates to be cramped on the double, but not quite as much booze. He couldn't complain. Literally. Every time he opened his mouth, he'd start laughing. He hoped he was at least helping Bobby's jokes land.
"Maaaan," Bobby slurred, sloshing some of the cheap scotch out of his red solo cup. "'N here I was thinkin' scotch was, like, tape and shit, haha." He started a laugh that quickly turned into a cough before taking another sip of scotch and then coughing even more. "It keeps ya warm though, fffffffffffff. Good thing I'm a cool dude, right? Shhhhhhhhhhh." He winked and put a finger up to what he thought was his lips, but in reality was his nose.
Miles slapped a hand over his mouth, scandalized. "Duuuude noooooooo. They don't knooooooow." He reached behind him to grab a handful of chips — when the heck did someone put out chips? — and plucked out a few with his mouth. "C'mon, lemme introduce you to Julie. She's the one in the black and she's got the tramp stamp." The young woman in question turned around and leaned over to grab her phone, revealing some geometric design on her back that went below the waistline. "Cool her down, sabes?"
"HAY GURL," he started, laying his cup down and, completely by luck alone, not knocking it over in the process. "A little birdie," Bobby openly gestured over to Miles, "told me that you like stamps. Or ramps? Wait, do you like skateboard? Shit, I can show you some mooooves if you do, but full disclosure, I dunno sweet eff all about stamps, other than you lick 'em, am I right? Hahaha!" He tried to wink but ended up blinking both of his eyes at the same time, then staggered backwards into Miles.
With that kind of play, Miles wanted to just let Bobby fall, but he was too drunk to ignore his spider-reflexes and catch him before he totally lost his footing. But when to Miles's shock, Julie laughed and did not run in terror, he changed his tune, patting Bobby on the shoulder and laughing heartily, too. So heartily he fell into a coughing fit.
"Milesy has my back, see? Nothin' to worry about." Bobby swallowed another burp and patted Miles on the back in kind. "He always has my back, did you know he dressed me tonight? And that my dick won't fit in his jeans?" While strictly true, his alcohol-addled brain forgot about that whole thing called 'context.'
Perhaps it was to both boys' fortune that the host of the party, a history major named Nadia, interrupted them, holding up an empty vodka bottle. "Okay, wait, I have an idea, you guys. Let's plaaaaaay spin the bottle!"
Julia looked at her like she'd been looking at Bobby. "Ohmigod are we in middle school again?"
"C'mon, it'll be hilarious."
"We're in!" Miles enthusiastically volunteered, nudging Bobby's arm. Maybe if they let an inanimate object do all the work, everything would be easier.
"Shit yeah we're in, let's spin that mother." He wasn't fully comprehending precisely what that game entailed, Bobby just wanted to actually do something instead of talking about doing stuff. Or something. His mind was a little foggy at the moment at any rate. He picked up his glass and polished off his scotch, then squinted into the glass before turning it upside down to indicate its emptiness to the world. "I'm-a need a refill though."
"Don't worry about it, bro. Maybe good to cool down for a minute." Advice Miles took himself, slamming down one last shot before promising himself to pause until after the game. He patted Bobby on the shoulder and followed Nadia to the circle of people assembling on the floor. Boys were outnumbered a bit, which were odds he liked.
As the host, Nadia took the first spin. Most of the kisses that happened were short little pecks, everyone too self-conscious despite the social lubrication to do much more. Julie landing on her roommate Arianna garnered them a solid minute of hooting and hollering. There wasn't quite so much enthusiasm from the room when Arianna landed on Miles, but he was more than happy to make it up on his own. And as far as he could tell, she was pleased when she sat back down, too.
But if girl-on-girl action excited everyone, that was nothing compared to the reaction when Miles spun the bottle and the tip pointed to Bobby.
"Dude, which end of the bottle is it that we use again?" Bobby asked, scratching his head. Because it was pointing at him with the end that he thought they were using, but Miles spun it. So that meant... wait, no, maybe it was the opposite end. Yeah, no, that had to be the case. He was just forgetting the rules because he was drunk.
"Bro, it's the tip, bro!" one of the partygoers helpfully reminded Bobby. "You kiss Morales! You kiss Morales!" He started a cheer, and a few of the others caught on. "You kiss Morales!"
Now it was impossible to tell if Miles's face darkened from inebriation or embarrassment. He glanced worriedly from Bobby to Julie to the others and back. "Yo, it means nothing, alright?" he reassured Bobby. And before he lost his nerve or his friend could react, Miles grabbed either side of Bobby's face and pulled him in. He pressed his lips against Bobby's, and he was sort of surprised his first thought was to wonder what brand of lip balm Bobby used, or if his lips just naturally tasted like mint. His lips were soft, too, not jagged and chapped like he assumed all guys' were. The cheering got louder, subliminally encouraging Miles's tongue (it had a mind of its own, he swore it) to playfully tease apart Bobby's lips and land them solidly at first base.
Not having experienced many kisses period, Bobby had no real idea what to expect from this, only that it would likely be awkward. What was most awkward of it all, however, was that he kinda liked it. He couldn't put his finger on it but it felt, well. It felt good. He'd been expecting something rougher than what his lips actually felt, which threw him for a total loop.
Then Miles' tongue made its entrance and whoops, that broke his concentration and snapped him out of whatever spell he'd just been under. Bobby's eyes went wide and he pulled away, careful not to bite the other boy's tongue in the process.
"Whoa man, I, uh." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, not sure exactly what he was expecting to wipe away but he didn't know what to do with his hands, or what to do in general. "I gotta take a piss man, bee are bee." Bobby stumbled as he got to his feet, wobbling a bit once he was fully erect before making a beeline for the washroom.
Everyone else was laughing too hard and hooting and hollering to notice either Bobby's exit or Miles following him. He couldn't explain what he'd just done or what it meant. He could blame it on the booze, and probably would, but even through his drunken haze, he could tell it had not been unwelcome. He followed Bobby to the bathroom, thankfully otherwise empty, but stood at the door, apprehensive about getting too close.
"Yo, you okay, man? You disappeared."
"Oh yeah, no, I just had to pee. Like, a lot." That's when Bobby realized he wasn't actually urinating, so he turned on one of the faucets above the sink. In his inebriated state he didn't think that'd be enough, so he also turned on the second faucet, doubling the water pressure, just to be sure. "There we go, it's flowin' now, man!" Maybe a little too much, he started to realize, at about the same time he realized he hadn't locked the door behind him either.
"Oh okay, I just thought maybe . . ." Miles put his hands in his pockets, then took them out and crossed his arms, and then put them in his back pockets. He had to find something to do with them. "You're gonna miss your turn at the game if you're here too long."
Thinking he'd had them on long enough, Bobby turned the faucets off. "Oh, nah, that's ok. I mean, their loss, right? But I'm pretty drunk and maybe I should just go home or something." He hesitated, then went over and opened the bathroom door, peeking out through the crack. "How... how are you feelin'? You good?"
"Me? I'm good," Miles answered, his voice cracking. Just the booze, not nerves. Hands behind his back now. "You sure, man? It's a long Uber drive back. We can go back to my dorm, you can crash there." Not that he expected to convince Bobby, or he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to. "Yo . . . you're not mad, are you?"
"Nah, not at all, just getting a little, I dunno." He opened the door a little more and scratched the back of his head. "I probably just need to sleep it off, heh. And yeah, I can crash at your dorm if it's closer." It'd be cheaper than going back to the mansion anyway, Bobby told himself. That was the only reason why anyway.
Miles nodded and led Bobby back to his room, taking care to avoid being spotted by the party in case they got the wrong idea. He fumbled for his key to unlock his door, and would have tripped over the pile of clothes were it not for super reflexes. He didn't make quite the perfect landing he would have sober, but at least he avoided falling on his face. His shirt was halfway over his head before he remembered Bobby was there, and a bout of self-consciousness had him hastily pull it back down, nearly tearing the neck. So much for that nice shirt.
"You can sleep in Ganke's bed. I think he's not coming back tonight."
"Ok, can do." Bobby had the same idea of disrobing but hesitated as well. Should he just get under the covers and then remove some clothing? That seemed a bit weird and childish, there was no reason he couldn't take some clothes off in front of his roomie. It wasn't like he'd be getting naked or anything.
Bobby looked over at Miles and blinked, then shook his head a bit. Naked, no, not at all. Nothing like that. Bare chests were ok, that was perfectly fine. Miles still had his shirt on but maybe he was just waiting for him? His alcohol-clouded mind wasn't sure, so he eventually just said fuck it and took his shirt off, tossing it on the foot of Ganke's bed before peeling back the covers.
"So he won't be home then and, like, I dunno." He sat down and started fumbling with his jeans. "Get into bed with me by accident or something?" Bobby tried to play it off as a joke but he didn't want to steal someone else's bed just the same. "I mean, if you thought he might then I'd just sleep on the floor or something. Or on top of your bed, hah." He slid one leg out and then kicked his jeans off, sending them flying a bit further than he meant in Miles' direction, whoops.
This time, Miles's spider-sense did not save him and he got a face full of Bobby's pants. He hastily threw them off, like he'd just been accosted by a bug or mouse or something. "Bro." Heart still beating too fast, Miles flicked off the lights before undressing and getting into his own bed. This was more uncomfortable than that time he'd walked in on Bobby whacking it. Why? "It's fine, Gank's at some girl's place tonight." How he was getting so much play when the most Miles got was accidental drunken make-out with his ex-roommate was beyond Miles.
A little part of him told him he was being completely ridiculous. It was just a meaningless game. Grow up. It didn't mean anything to Nadia and Arianna, so it shouldn't mean anything to them.
"Your lips taste like mint." Yes, that would surely ease the tension. Miles could have smacked himself.
"What." Bobby couldn't stop himself from saying that out loud because what? Of course his lips had to taste like something, he supposed, but mint? He subconsciously ran his tongue over his lower lip and yup, there it was. Maybe it was the alcohol or something, but Miles was right.
Oh god. Miles had kissed him and tasted his lips and that's where that came from and oh god. He hadn't forgotten it - it'd only been less than an hour or so ago after all - but he'd been trying not to think about it, but now he had hard, concrete evidence in the form of taste that it'd happened.
"Yours... yours were, like. Normal tasting." That was all his brain could come up with, honest to god.
"I mean, not that I taste guys' lips a lot to know or anything. Not that there's anything wrong with that, either, but y'know. Not... not minty. But not bad either."
He peeked over at the nightstand next to the bed, hoping Ganke had some kind of sleeping pill or Nyquil or some shit to just knock him out already.
"Yeah, of course, me neither," Miles hastily replied. This was the extent of his experience with that, and he had no plans to experiment any more. "I didn't think how different it'd be from girls. Becky has bigger lips, and she always wore that beeswax kinda lip balm. You got thin little white boy lips."
"My lips aren't thin," he said defensively. "I mean, I don't think they are, but again, I dunno." Bobby frowned and reached up to touch his mouth, wondering whether he could actually tell if they were thin or not.
"Wait, she put beeswax on her lips? That sounds weird. Who does that?" He was much happier to talk about that, and how weird that was, instead of what had actually happened.
Miles nodded, forgetting that they could not see each other in the dark. "That Burt's Bees or whatever. And yeah you do. Kissing you's like kissing, I dunno, kissing a piece of burnt toast. No offense."
"Burnt toast? The fuck does -" Bobby found himself starting to argue, then stopped. Because he didn't care what Miles thought about his kissing, that'd be crazy. Why would he care about that? "Eh, whatever, heh. Kissing is stupid." Not really but he didn't know what else to say at the moment.
"Sure it is, cumpa," Miles said through a yawn. "Kiss me again and you'll . . ." Whatever Bobby would do was not revealed, as drunken slumber finally overtook Miles and he dreamed of struggling through a blizzard, the frigid air and biting winds threatening to freeze-dry him like one of those European cavemen, but finding warmth and comfort in the arms of an indistinct figure that effortlessly parted the curtain of snow.
-
When he woke up the next morning, Bobby's head was threatening to detach itself and float away, it was throbbing and aching so much. He'd have been happy to have that happen, but as he sat up his stomach suddenly joined in with the whole swelling and general-not-feeling-good stuff. Ugh.
He looked over at Miles' sleeping form and then it all came flooding back to him, the parts he could remember. Kissing, that was a thing he remembered. Not that he wanted to, Bobby told himself, but then a part of him was saying he did, maybe. Or wouldn't? It wasn't clear, and he started to shake his head before immediately stopping. It was stop or risk throwing up all over Ganke's bed, and nope.
The only answer was to get out of there, at least that's the only immediate answer that presented itself to him. So Bobby quietly and carefully got dressed, took his belongings, and slipped outside of the bedroom. He'd have to try and make sense of it all later, if he could.
It was a good half hour later that Miles awoke, though his definition of "awake" was questionable. The usual post-drinking hangover headache, double vision, and mouth full of cotton balls all made it an inviting proposition to shut his eyes and go back to the dream he now could not remember, but a full bladder argued otherwise. Miles actually weighed the pros and cons of not going to the bathroom — "It'll be warm for a minute," he said out load, his voice hoarse as if he had been screaming all night — but ultimately decided it was in everyone's best interest to be an adult.
Miles picked up his phone when he returned, noticing he had forgotten to plug it in before he went to bed, and grimaced at the number of texts he'd missed. Several from his dormmates who had wondered where he had run off to, including a couple with some rather lascivious ideas. He did not understand what they meant until someone included a photo they had taken at the party . . .
His head immediately snapped to Ganke's empty bed, and Miles swore. Bobby was already gone. He must have lost his cool when he woke up and ran away. Miles moaned in frustration, gripping his phone so tightly he nearly crushed it and instead only succeeded in cracking the screen. He swore again, falling back onto his bed. He had to fix this but he had no idea how.
