Keep It On the Low
Friday night in Austin, Texas of all places, Evan “Q-Tip” Stafford sat at the four-seat dining room table of the house that he shared with three other guys. He’d missed the opportunity to go with two of his roommates to a bar within walking distance called Rudy’s. It was sort of a sport’s bar, sort of a hangout spot for drinking age university students, and he’d become a regular there since he’d moved with John Christeson to go to school. They called it “That Gay Bar” between the two of them, a joke lost on the other two roommates, who would never be as close as the OIF veterans or get the supreme hilarity of the joke. Christeson and their roommate Kyle Everheart had gone to blow off steam after the week of classes, but Evan had hung back to get his homework out of the way before the weekend. The fourth roommate, Matt Sanders, declined all offers to visit the bar and only joined the other guys if they wanted to visit a different locale and would need a ride or a handler. He always volunteered to be the designated driver.
Q-Tip looked up from the table, startled when John and Kyle stumbled in the front door, raucous as ever, high fiving through laughter. John looked past the couch and their rather embarrassingly large plasma, past the bar set up, at Evan. His smile started to deflate as he noticed the expression on Evan’s face. Q-Tip’s eyes met his and he smiled wide, showing his teeth, and leaned back on the wooden chair.
“Shit, ya’ll all fucked up, walkin in the house high fivin. The fuck?”
John’s smile spread back ear to ear.
“Bro,” Kyle hollered out, clapping his hands together before raising them above his head in victory pose, “We, fucking cockblocked some Delts so bad at Rudy’s. Those bitches left and I got some fucking numbers!”
“Daym,” Q-tip whistled as Kyle reached expressively into his right jeans pocket and dug out his cell phone.
“You have to see these bitches. They are smoking and said they were tryin to get bids with the Omega Phi’s. What do you think? They OP material?”
Kyle closed the distance as he tapped madly on the screen to find photo evidence of his night.
“My man Kyle is going to get it the fuck in, tonight.”
“Shit yeah,” Kyle muttered before stepping alongside Q-Tip seated at the table and leaned over his shoulder with the phone, brandishing one picture on the screen. “That is Kelli, she was all trying to play shy in front of her friend, but then she had her hand on my ass when she gave me a little hug on our way out. About to head over to her place,”
“Sounds like a keeper, mayn,” Q-Tip most obviously lied with a winsome smirk, “You think you found the future Mrs. Everheart or what?”
“Whatever, man.” He swiped to another photo, of the both of them, rowdy and yelling for the camera which Kyle was obviously holding up to capture the moment, “Gotta do some recon like you boys. See if she’s a moaner or a screamer, see if she can cook, see if she is smart enough to put the seat down and not too lazy to do so before she takes a seat on my throne,”
Q-Tip easily swatted the back of his hand up nudging Kyle in the chest, “Bitch, that’s yo job. If she don’t cry when she falls in, that’s good enough,”
“Good call,” Kyle, agreed, and swiped to another photo of a girl with long black curly hair, some kind of latina maybe according to her features and tan, “This is Ariel,”
“Ariel a stripper?” Q-Tip asked immediately, “that a hot stripper name,”
“Nah,” Kyle shook his head, “She showed me her ID,”
“Probably her fake ID, yo. She looks 16 tops. Better watch yoself,”
“She said she’s going to pledge and she’s sure she got a bid,”
“That’s what all them bitches say. She probably heard it from her older sister or something.” Q-Tip snorted and shook his head, “Ariel. You gotta be fuckin trippin,”
“Okay, check this,” Kyle challenged and swiped to another picture, of a brunette with lots of blonde highlights talking with John who had a sweaty bottled beer in his hand. “This lovely lady we almost missed, but my wingman had that shit on lock. He reeled her right in,”
“Then your boy Kyle committed the robbery,” John grumbled walking toward the two from where he’d been standing at the front door, meticulously unlacing his Vans and placing them in a line perfectly perpendicular to the door, but still on the entryway’s tile floor.
Kyle shrugged and swiped to another picture of the girl. She was making duck face in a self portrait with Kyle.
“Amanda, she said she only likes fraternity guys. She said they’re all gentlemen,”
“That’s a nice way to tell you she thinks you’re a piece of shit, bro,” John added striding up behind both Q-Tip and Kyle to look at the phone.
“Yea, mayn. You didn’t pull no robbery.” Q-Tip agreed, egging on John’s negative assessment.
“Whatever, then I bought her a drink and turned on the charm. I’m meeting up with her tomorrow,”
Q-Tip made a face and looked up at Kyle and twisted his neck to chance a glance at John to judge his expression which was a goofy smirk.
“I thought you was wit Ariel or what’s the other bitches name?”
“Kelli,” Kyle answered, swiping to another picture where he had his arm around Ariel and Kelli.
“Nigga, please,” Q-Tip crowed exasperated, “Get out with this shit,”
“He’s seeing Kelli tonight.”
“Yeah, I just came in to change and then I’m going over to her place. Gotta get myself prepared,”
“Prepared?” Evan started laughing and hung his head, resting it on his folded hands for a second before righting himself, “You sad. I ain’t teach you nothing? Fuckin me and Last Boy Scout over here and shit; we woulda already been laid and back,”
He raised his left arm for a backward hand slap and snap with Christeson.
“I’m not a girl scout like you ladies, always prepared and shit; carry everything I need in my purse.” Kyle swore, flipping back to the picture of Amanda with duckface.
“How’d you scam these chicks off the Delt brothas anyway?”
“Top secret,” John chuckled stepping from behind Q-Tip and pulling out the chair from the next side of the table.
“Whatever,”
“Your boy was all trying to ask her about her major and basically doing a job interview,” Kyle laughed swiping to the picture of Amanda and John again.
Evan turned his head and gave John a frown. “No, you really didn’t?”
John made no quick remark and Q-Tip burst into laughter, hanging his head again.
“Well, that’s all I have for you man. You should have come out with us. You coulda taken a crack at Ariel at least, since you’re so up on her being underage.”
Evan made a light ‘pfft’ still not raising his head from his hands. “That’s all you. Jailbait ain’t in my plan. Besides, I need a sista in control, not these little white bread honeys,”
John sighed and slumped down in his chair. “Fucking robbery,” he muttered.
“I thought you guys had skills.” Kyle called over his shoulder, strutting across the carpet, passing the TV and moving toward the hall that led to two of the bedrooms in the split level house.
“I got ALL the skills,” Q-Tip called after him, turning his head from his hands so his voice would carry.
The dining room volume immediately dropped to nil after Kyle had disappeared down the hall. Q-Tip kept his cheek to his hands for a moment, about to sit back up and question John about letting Kyle snatch a girl out from under him so easily. He felt John’s hand lightly rest on his head, atop his black slightly sideways cap and he rolled over to the other cheek so he was looking at Christeson.
“Dude,” John said, looking down at Evan, who simply winked. “Ariel, by the way, looks sixteen in those pictures but not in person,”
“You ain’t gotta front,” Stafford replied with a wicked smile, “You know she rides the school bus, carries a Bieber lunchbox. Nigga is goin to jail,”
John let his head tilt back and rolled his shoulders causing his hand to slip down from Q-Tip’s hat covered head across his cheek and to the table.
“Amanda is a woman’s studies major,” John said with a shy smile, focusing his eyes on Evan’s.
“I don’t think they’re going on a date anytime, soon,” Q-Tip replied with a wicked toothy grin at Kyle’s expense.
“Definitely, not. He really didn’t commit the robbery with that one,” Christeson added with a small hint of pride.
“Guess not,” he affirmed, lickin his lips before lifting his head up. “I ain’t gotta go hunt that bitch down, neitha,”
John gave a slight shake of his head and his cheeks colored to a mild pink.
“Where’s Sanders at?” John asked inching his fingers a little closer across the surface of the table toward Evan’s elbow.
Evan drew back his arms and crossed them.
“Call of Duty,” he answered, his face all business, features tight and all sharp lines.
“So?” John let the vowel hang in a question.
Q-Tip just shrugged, ineffectually. John cocked his head to the side.
“I picked the lesbian to chat up,” he reminded, eliciting a raised eyebrow and a relaxed jaw from Q-Tip.
Kyle stepped into the open entry, living room, dining area from the hallway, buttoning the pearl snaps on a pale blue short sleeve, breaking the conversation, tension and sudden silence.
“Hey, Q-Tip, I used your clippers to shave my balls!”
“Fuck no you didn’t,” Q-Tip balked, swiveling in his seat quickly, setting his eyes on Everheart, “Your nasty sperm bags touch my fucking clippers and I will fry your goddamn eyelids then feed them to you while I make you watch me fuck your shit up!”
“Damn dude,” Kyle snorted, pressing the last snap, “I was playin,”
Q-Tip laughed, “Yo, me too, dawg.”
Christeson sat at the table in silence; lips pursed and eyes open wide at the sudden brash exchange between the two men.
“How do I look?”
“Good enough to melt them panties if she wears any,” Q-Tip answered, leaning the chair back on the two back legs and threading his fingers behind his head. “Hit it one time for me, mayn,”
“Shit, I’m going to hit it for all you poor fuckers in this house. Sanders is upstairs on CoD. I can hear the subwoofer through my ceiling.”
“For real,” Christeson groaned lamentingly, “That dude needs to put the Red Vines down and come out with us.”
“I’m gonna hit up the club tomorrow,” Q-Tip interjected, “Not Rudy’s, neitha. I won’t come home with pictures of no jailbait and shit. Hell, I won’t be in until Sunday afternoon with my after action report,”
“That’s how it’s fucking done,” Kyle roared and enthusiastically strolled into the kitchen arm out.
Q-Tip dropped his hands from behind his head and caught Kyle’s hand, palm to palm, hooking their thumbs. Evan rose on his own as Kyle reeled him in and with the sudden clippers outburst obviously miles behind them, gave some love, Q-Tip patting his back with the other hand.
“Damn, that Drakkar?” Evan asked with a sniff catching the tidal wave of cologne from Kyle.
“You know it,”
“Dapper motherfucker,” Q-Tip complimented, swinging his arm as he released Kyle’s hand.
Kyle reached across Q-Tip’s spot at the table and gave John a high-five.
“I’ll hit you up if Kelli has a friend, dude.”
“Thanks, man.” John said in a voice resigned to his fate of being left behind as Kyle went out to conquer.
“Don’t wait up,” Kyle called over his shoulder, heading to the door.
Soon the door slammed and the sound of the deadbolt locking into place signaled that Kyle wasn’t going to suddenly pop back in having forgotten something.
“The fuck was that?” John asked bluntly, his voice spiking.
Evan gave him a bored look. “Sometimes that dick gets on my nerves. Ignant ass should be a frat boy,”
“His grades suck too bad,” John huffed, crossing his arms, keeping his disapproving look on Q-Tip.
Q-Tip shrugged at John trying to placate him and make the look on his face soften.
“Like I was saying,” Christeson practically growled in annoyance, “I picked the lesbian to chat up. I’m a Recon Marine, lest you forget that little fact. Kyle wanted to go out and I didn’t know we’d end up on the prowl at Rudy’s.”
Another shrug came as a reply from Q-Tip. “I ain’t mad,”
“You’re seething with rage,” Christeson disagreed.
“I know you ain’t gon’ do nothing,” he argued, “Why you think I’m all pissed because you were talkin to some broad,”
“Because for some reason you are,”
“And then you come in here, playin it off, and then you’re all tryin to reach across the table and hold my hand and shit and askin where Sanders is at, like you think you gonna just get some if we got the house to ourselves,”
Christeson’s eyed Q-Tip incredulously and he raised his brows, “Uh, and I’m still not sure what part of that is fucked up,”
Q-Tip crossed his arms and studied John. They sat in that stalemate, just staring at each other, and trying to hold out and not be the first to speak, although it was by all rights Stafford’s turn.
“You going to ‘da club’ for real, tomorrow?” John asked, releasing his arms so he could make air-quotes to mock the way Q-Tip spoke.
“No,” Q-Tip huffed, dropping his arms, putting his hands on his knees, “Get a clue. It’s called my cover story. Not that we have to work that hard to front. Sanders wouldn’t notice if we tumbled onto his bed and I rode you like a goddamn cowboy with the hat and spurs. Kyle ain’t exactly recon material. He’s more like midlevel command type brains,”
“Then, what the fuck?”
“You play too well sometimes, mayn. That’s all.”
A small smile worked the corner of Christeson’s mouth.
“Think Kyle would even give a shit or Matt for that matter?”
“Nah, I don’t know. You never know. We in a red state. Some dudes front to everyone like it’s cool, but they find out their war hero roommates are buttfuckers and it’s a thing,”
John nodded and pushed his chair back. He stood up and held his hand out to Evan palm up. Evan looked at it before he placed his hand palm down in John’s. John curled his fingers and squeezed gently, while tugging Evan up from his seat to standing.
“I’m sorry I had to pretend to hit on a lesbian and fail badly and have her be more interested in Kyle,”
“And, I guess I’m sorta sorry I threatened to maim and torture him, like it was cool.”
John released his grip on Evan’s hand and threaded his fingers between Evan’s instead, palm to palm. Holding his hand, he took a step forward and slipped his free arm, around Evan’s trim waist and pulled him the rest of the way until their torsos pressed together firmly. Evan held still but for letting his head lean to the right. John had only to lean forward to put his lips to Evan’s. He moved in slower than Evan expected and he felt Evan’s warm breath against his mouth, and heard the hitch of surprise that John hadn’t captured him in a kiss, yet. Then Evan’s free hand clapped onto John’s shoulder and slid down to his muscular biceps and squeezed.
Christeson brought his mouth to Q-Tip’s, pushing lips to lips and running the tip of his tongue in a sweep grazing Q-Tips pearly white teeth. Evan squeezed John’s bicep again and gripped his hand. He overpowered John’s mouth, letting his tongue plunder the hot cavern, chasing a throaty moan he didn’t mean to release so quickly.
John pulled back and licked his lips, tasting the familiar sweet savory of Q-Tip on them. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in and swallowed. Evan shifted on his feet, leaning more weight to John, one side of his mouth twitching in a proud smirk knowing John could feel his hard-on perfectly well.
“You want to go fuck on Kyle’s bed, to pay him back?” John whispered.
“You want to just piss all over it to mark your territory?” Q-Tip sarcastically teased.
“That ain’t my territory, Corporal,” He shot back, bunching Q-Tip’s shirt in the hand at the small of his back, when he pressed up against him for emphasis.
“Goddayam,” Evan sighed at the bulge that ground against him. “You and that kinky Marine shit. I don’t need that sir, yes, sir unless we at rotsy. Good thing you, hot,”
“Yeah, good thing,”
They kissed again, soft and slow, working at trying to hold out and not wind up on the table, the floor or the couch just yet.
“So?” John asked, so close, his lips brushed against Evan’s when he spoke.
“Kyle’s bed?” Q-Tip questioned.
“Then we can watch his TV, eat his food, and -,”
“Basically, take a Dirty Earl holiday up in that bitch?”
John smirked. Q-Tip brought his lips back to John’s, kissing him until the smirk faded into a stupefied, slack-jawed, pant.
Q-Tip looked up from the table, startled when John and Kyle stumbled in the front door, raucous as ever, high fiving through laughter. John looked past the couch and their rather embarrassingly large plasma, past the bar set up, at Evan. His smile started to deflate as he noticed the expression on Evan’s face. Q-Tip’s eyes met his and he smiled wide, showing his teeth, and leaned back on the wooden chair.
“Shit, ya’ll all fucked up, walkin in the house high fivin. The fuck?”
John’s smile spread back ear to ear.
“Bro,” Kyle hollered out, clapping his hands together before raising them above his head in victory pose, “We, fucking cockblocked some Delts so bad at Rudy’s. Those bitches left and I got some fucking numbers!”
“Daym,” Q-tip whistled as Kyle reached expressively into his right jeans pocket and dug out his cell phone.
“You have to see these bitches. They are smoking and said they were tryin to get bids with the Omega Phi’s. What do you think? They OP material?”
Kyle closed the distance as he tapped madly on the screen to find photo evidence of his night.
“My man Kyle is going to get it the fuck in, tonight.”
“Shit yeah,” Kyle muttered before stepping alongside Q-Tip seated at the table and leaned over his shoulder with the phone, brandishing one picture on the screen. “That is Kelli, she was all trying to play shy in front of her friend, but then she had her hand on my ass when she gave me a little hug on our way out. About to head over to her place,”
“Sounds like a keeper, mayn,” Q-Tip most obviously lied with a winsome smirk, “You think you found the future Mrs. Everheart or what?”
“Whatever, man.” He swiped to another photo, of the both of them, rowdy and yelling for the camera which Kyle was obviously holding up to capture the moment, “Gotta do some recon like you boys. See if she’s a moaner or a screamer, see if she can cook, see if she is smart enough to put the seat down and not too lazy to do so before she takes a seat on my throne,”
Q-Tip easily swatted the back of his hand up nudging Kyle in the chest, “Bitch, that’s yo job. If she don’t cry when she falls in, that’s good enough,”
“Good call,” Kyle, agreed, and swiped to another photo of a girl with long black curly hair, some kind of latina maybe according to her features and tan, “This is Ariel,”
“Ariel a stripper?” Q-Tip asked immediately, “that a hot stripper name,”
“Nah,” Kyle shook his head, “She showed me her ID,”
“Probably her fake ID, yo. She looks 16 tops. Better watch yoself,”
“She said she’s going to pledge and she’s sure she got a bid,”
“That’s what all them bitches say. She probably heard it from her older sister or something.” Q-Tip snorted and shook his head, “Ariel. You gotta be fuckin trippin,”
“Okay, check this,” Kyle challenged and swiped to another picture, of a brunette with lots of blonde highlights talking with John who had a sweaty bottled beer in his hand. “This lovely lady we almost missed, but my wingman had that shit on lock. He reeled her right in,”
“Then your boy Kyle committed the robbery,” John grumbled walking toward the two from where he’d been standing at the front door, meticulously unlacing his Vans and placing them in a line perfectly perpendicular to the door, but still on the entryway’s tile floor.
Kyle shrugged and swiped to another picture of the girl. She was making duck face in a self portrait with Kyle.
“Amanda, she said she only likes fraternity guys. She said they’re all gentlemen,”
“That’s a nice way to tell you she thinks you’re a piece of shit, bro,” John added striding up behind both Q-Tip and Kyle to look at the phone.
“Yea, mayn. You didn’t pull no robbery.” Q-Tip agreed, egging on John’s negative assessment.
“Whatever, then I bought her a drink and turned on the charm. I’m meeting up with her tomorrow,”
Q-Tip made a face and looked up at Kyle and twisted his neck to chance a glance at John to judge his expression which was a goofy smirk.
“I thought you was wit Ariel or what’s the other bitches name?”
“Kelli,” Kyle answered, swiping to another picture where he had his arm around Ariel and Kelli.
“Nigga, please,” Q-Tip crowed exasperated, “Get out with this shit,”
“He’s seeing Kelli tonight.”
“Yeah, I just came in to change and then I’m going over to her place. Gotta get myself prepared,”
“Prepared?” Evan started laughing and hung his head, resting it on his folded hands for a second before righting himself, “You sad. I ain’t teach you nothing? Fuckin me and Last Boy Scout over here and shit; we woulda already been laid and back,”
He raised his left arm for a backward hand slap and snap with Christeson.
“I’m not a girl scout like you ladies, always prepared and shit; carry everything I need in my purse.” Kyle swore, flipping back to the picture of Amanda with duckface.
“How’d you scam these chicks off the Delt brothas anyway?”
“Top secret,” John chuckled stepping from behind Q-Tip and pulling out the chair from the next side of the table.
“Whatever,”
“Your boy was all trying to ask her about her major and basically doing a job interview,” Kyle laughed swiping to the picture of Amanda and John again.
Evan turned his head and gave John a frown. “No, you really didn’t?”
John made no quick remark and Q-Tip burst into laughter, hanging his head again.
“Well, that’s all I have for you man. You should have come out with us. You coulda taken a crack at Ariel at least, since you’re so up on her being underage.”
Evan made a light ‘pfft’ still not raising his head from his hands. “That’s all you. Jailbait ain’t in my plan. Besides, I need a sista in control, not these little white bread honeys,”
John sighed and slumped down in his chair. “Fucking robbery,” he muttered.
“I thought you guys had skills.” Kyle called over his shoulder, strutting across the carpet, passing the TV and moving toward the hall that led to two of the bedrooms in the split level house.
“I got ALL the skills,” Q-Tip called after him, turning his head from his hands so his voice would carry.
The dining room volume immediately dropped to nil after Kyle had disappeared down the hall. Q-Tip kept his cheek to his hands for a moment, about to sit back up and question John about letting Kyle snatch a girl out from under him so easily. He felt John’s hand lightly rest on his head, atop his black slightly sideways cap and he rolled over to the other cheek so he was looking at Christeson.
“Dude,” John said, looking down at Evan, who simply winked. “Ariel, by the way, looks sixteen in those pictures but not in person,”
“You ain’t gotta front,” Stafford replied with a wicked smile, “You know she rides the school bus, carries a Bieber lunchbox. Nigga is goin to jail,”
John let his head tilt back and rolled his shoulders causing his hand to slip down from Q-Tip’s hat covered head across his cheek and to the table.
“Amanda is a woman’s studies major,” John said with a shy smile, focusing his eyes on Evan’s.
“I don’t think they’re going on a date anytime, soon,” Q-Tip replied with a wicked toothy grin at Kyle’s expense.
“Definitely, not. He really didn’t commit the robbery with that one,” Christeson added with a small hint of pride.
“Guess not,” he affirmed, lickin his lips before lifting his head up. “I ain’t gotta go hunt that bitch down, neitha,”
John gave a slight shake of his head and his cheeks colored to a mild pink.
“Where’s Sanders at?” John asked inching his fingers a little closer across the surface of the table toward Evan’s elbow.
Evan drew back his arms and crossed them.
“Call of Duty,” he answered, his face all business, features tight and all sharp lines.
“So?” John let the vowel hang in a question.
Q-Tip just shrugged, ineffectually. John cocked his head to the side.
“I picked the lesbian to chat up,” he reminded, eliciting a raised eyebrow and a relaxed jaw from Q-Tip.
Kyle stepped into the open entry, living room, dining area from the hallway, buttoning the pearl snaps on a pale blue short sleeve, breaking the conversation, tension and sudden silence.
“Hey, Q-Tip, I used your clippers to shave my balls!”
“Fuck no you didn’t,” Q-Tip balked, swiveling in his seat quickly, setting his eyes on Everheart, “Your nasty sperm bags touch my fucking clippers and I will fry your goddamn eyelids then feed them to you while I make you watch me fuck your shit up!”
“Damn dude,” Kyle snorted, pressing the last snap, “I was playin,”
Q-Tip laughed, “Yo, me too, dawg.”
Christeson sat at the table in silence; lips pursed and eyes open wide at the sudden brash exchange between the two men.
“How do I look?”
“Good enough to melt them panties if she wears any,” Q-Tip answered, leaning the chair back on the two back legs and threading his fingers behind his head. “Hit it one time for me, mayn,”
“Shit, I’m going to hit it for all you poor fuckers in this house. Sanders is upstairs on CoD. I can hear the subwoofer through my ceiling.”
“For real,” Christeson groaned lamentingly, “That dude needs to put the Red Vines down and come out with us.”
“I’m gonna hit up the club tomorrow,” Q-Tip interjected, “Not Rudy’s, neitha. I won’t come home with pictures of no jailbait and shit. Hell, I won’t be in until Sunday afternoon with my after action report,”
“That’s how it’s fucking done,” Kyle roared and enthusiastically strolled into the kitchen arm out.
Q-Tip dropped his hands from behind his head and caught Kyle’s hand, palm to palm, hooking their thumbs. Evan rose on his own as Kyle reeled him in and with the sudden clippers outburst obviously miles behind them, gave some love, Q-Tip patting his back with the other hand.
“Damn, that Drakkar?” Evan asked with a sniff catching the tidal wave of cologne from Kyle.
“You know it,”
“Dapper motherfucker,” Q-Tip complimented, swinging his arm as he released Kyle’s hand.
Kyle reached across Q-Tip’s spot at the table and gave John a high-five.
“I’ll hit you up if Kelli has a friend, dude.”
“Thanks, man.” John said in a voice resigned to his fate of being left behind as Kyle went out to conquer.
“Don’t wait up,” Kyle called over his shoulder, heading to the door.
Soon the door slammed and the sound of the deadbolt locking into place signaled that Kyle wasn’t going to suddenly pop back in having forgotten something.
“The fuck was that?” John asked bluntly, his voice spiking.
Evan gave him a bored look. “Sometimes that dick gets on my nerves. Ignant ass should be a frat boy,”
“His grades suck too bad,” John huffed, crossing his arms, keeping his disapproving look on Q-Tip.
Q-Tip shrugged at John trying to placate him and make the look on his face soften.
“Like I was saying,” Christeson practically growled in annoyance, “I picked the lesbian to chat up. I’m a Recon Marine, lest you forget that little fact. Kyle wanted to go out and I didn’t know we’d end up on the prowl at Rudy’s.”
Another shrug came as a reply from Q-Tip. “I ain’t mad,”
“You’re seething with rage,” Christeson disagreed.
“I know you ain’t gon’ do nothing,” he argued, “Why you think I’m all pissed because you were talkin to some broad,”
“Because for some reason you are,”
“And then you come in here, playin it off, and then you’re all tryin to reach across the table and hold my hand and shit and askin where Sanders is at, like you think you gonna just get some if we got the house to ourselves,”
Christeson’s eyed Q-Tip incredulously and he raised his brows, “Uh, and I’m still not sure what part of that is fucked up,”
Q-Tip crossed his arms and studied John. They sat in that stalemate, just staring at each other, and trying to hold out and not be the first to speak, although it was by all rights Stafford’s turn.
“You going to ‘da club’ for real, tomorrow?” John asked, releasing his arms so he could make air-quotes to mock the way Q-Tip spoke.
“No,” Q-Tip huffed, dropping his arms, putting his hands on his knees, “Get a clue. It’s called my cover story. Not that we have to work that hard to front. Sanders wouldn’t notice if we tumbled onto his bed and I rode you like a goddamn cowboy with the hat and spurs. Kyle ain’t exactly recon material. He’s more like midlevel command type brains,”
“Then, what the fuck?”
“You play too well sometimes, mayn. That’s all.”
A small smile worked the corner of Christeson’s mouth.
“Think Kyle would even give a shit or Matt for that matter?”
“Nah, I don’t know. You never know. We in a red state. Some dudes front to everyone like it’s cool, but they find out their war hero roommates are buttfuckers and it’s a thing,”
John nodded and pushed his chair back. He stood up and held his hand out to Evan palm up. Evan looked at it before he placed his hand palm down in John’s. John curled his fingers and squeezed gently, while tugging Evan up from his seat to standing.
“I’m sorry I had to pretend to hit on a lesbian and fail badly and have her be more interested in Kyle,”
“And, I guess I’m sorta sorry I threatened to maim and torture him, like it was cool.”
John released his grip on Evan’s hand and threaded his fingers between Evan’s instead, palm to palm. Holding his hand, he took a step forward and slipped his free arm, around Evan’s trim waist and pulled him the rest of the way until their torsos pressed together firmly. Evan held still but for letting his head lean to the right. John had only to lean forward to put his lips to Evan’s. He moved in slower than Evan expected and he felt Evan’s warm breath against his mouth, and heard the hitch of surprise that John hadn’t captured him in a kiss, yet. Then Evan’s free hand clapped onto John’s shoulder and slid down to his muscular biceps and squeezed.
Christeson brought his mouth to Q-Tip’s, pushing lips to lips and running the tip of his tongue in a sweep grazing Q-Tips pearly white teeth. Evan squeezed John’s bicep again and gripped his hand. He overpowered John’s mouth, letting his tongue plunder the hot cavern, chasing a throaty moan he didn’t mean to release so quickly.
John pulled back and licked his lips, tasting the familiar sweet savory of Q-Tip on them. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in and swallowed. Evan shifted on his feet, leaning more weight to John, one side of his mouth twitching in a proud smirk knowing John could feel his hard-on perfectly well.
“You want to go fuck on Kyle’s bed, to pay him back?” John whispered.
“You want to just piss all over it to mark your territory?” Q-Tip sarcastically teased.
“That ain’t my territory, Corporal,” He shot back, bunching Q-Tip’s shirt in the hand at the small of his back, when he pressed up against him for emphasis.
“Goddayam,” Evan sighed at the bulge that ground against him. “You and that kinky Marine shit. I don’t need that sir, yes, sir unless we at rotsy. Good thing you, hot,”
“Yeah, good thing,”
They kissed again, soft and slow, working at trying to hold out and not wind up on the table, the floor or the couch just yet.
“So?” John asked, so close, his lips brushed against Evan’s when he spoke.
“Kyle’s bed?” Q-Tip questioned.
“Then we can watch his TV, eat his food, and -,”
“Basically, take a Dirty Earl holiday up in that bitch?”
John smirked. Q-Tip brought his lips back to John’s, kissing him until the smirk faded into a stupefied, slack-jawed, pant.