"Frank, what are you—ow, fuck, stop it," Bob hissed, elbowing Frank in the gut to get him the fuck off his lap, seriously, he was clinging to him like a monkey. A monkey who had come dangerously close to kneeing him in the balls.

"Hey, settle, hey, Bob, I'm—" Frank cut off, giggling, falling forward onto Bob's chest, and Bob tangled his hand in Frank's hair and yanked his head back.

"You are really fucking high," Bob said. Frank's pupils were totally blown and he had his hands on Bob's thighs, and he was stoned out of his mind, that was so evident.

"Wait, but," Frank squirmed around, moved his hands up to clutch at Bob's sides, fingers opening and closing on the fabric of his t-shirt. "Bob."

"Frank."

"Bob." Frank's mouth curled up nice and slow.

Bob leaned back on the sagging couch, away from him, but he relaxed his hold on Frank's hair, and that totally let Frank fucking slump down into his lap. "Frank."

"Bob." Frank licked his lips, nodded. "Yeah, okay."

Bob narrowed his eyes. "Frank."

"Hey, so, I think you've established that he's Frank and that you're Bob," Ray said from beside them, and then he punched Bob in the shoulder, got up and left.

Frank waggled his eyebrows. "Alone at last."

"Yeah." Bob wasn't entirely certain where that whole thing was going, but Frank pressed his hands onto his cheeks, calloused fingers playing along the crests, and then he squished his face between his palms and said, "Fishie, fishie," and Bob fisted a hand in his shirt when Frank tried to make a break for it, tackling him down onto the floor.

Frank was laughing a little hysterically, high-pitched, really annoying giggles. Bob shut him up with his mouth.

 

[ back to stories | leave feedback on livejournal ]