"Huh?" Karl glanced up from his notes with a startled blink and pushed his glasses back up his nose. The commons room was totally deserted except for him and Orlando and the wall-mounted plasma TV that was currently showing what looked like old music videos from back in the day when people still made them. Some guy with bad New Wave hair was doing really perverted things to a mannequin. People were really fucked up back in the '80s. "Just listen to it," Orlando said, waving his hand in an agitated manner. He'd lost his shoes at some point during the night, and his t-shirt – a day-glo sort of blue that Karl thought belonged on a psychedelic album cover and read I Am The Ninja Your Parents Warned You About – had a rather impressive mustard stain courtesy of the two naked dogs he'd consumed for dinner. They both had a long night of studying before them. "Listen to what?" "The chorus," Orlando explained, like it was patently obvious what he was talking about (when it really wasn't.) "I mean, the chick's all 'I'm a slut, I'm a virgin, I'm a blue movie', but the dude's always a man. It's sexist. I mean," he jabbed a finger on the coffee table in emphasis, just about jumping out of his skin with barely suppressed energy, "why can't the guy be in on the fantasy? Why can't he be a sheik or cowboy or something?" Karl blinked as he set down his book. Even for Orlando, this was seriously random, bordering on what-the-fuck. "What the hell are you talking about?" Orlando pointed at the TV. "The song playing right now? Sex, I'm A? By Berlin? Hello, earth to genius." "Oh." Karl was somewhat mollified that there was, in fact, a plausible explanation for Orlando's rant. If his last year of friendship with Orlando had taught him anything, it was that Orlando didn't always need a reason, nor require one. "I don't know the song, sorry. But the video's...interesting." If one counted bad food porn as interesting. Really, oysters as aphrodisiacs? That was just so...lame. "What??" Orlando's jaw dropped in a classic cartoon moment. "But...it's a classic!" "Sorry." "And dude, Terri Nun. She was such a mega-babe back in the day." Orlando said it like Karl should be committed for this egregious oversight. "I can't believe you don't know this song." "Sorry," Karl repeated, unaccountably disappointed that he didn't. Then again, he didn't know half the cool, weird stuff Orlando did. Most of the time, he wondered why Orlando was even friends with him when they had so little in common besides a love of baseball and football and a fondness for Varsity onion rings. Then again, friendships were built on weirder things. (Orlando's best friend, Chad, was a classic example of opposites attracting – the two of them couldn't be more BFF, but also couldn't be less alike.) "It's no big." Orlando bumped Karl's shoulder in a friendly gesture. His smile was wide and warm, lit Karl up from the inside, as always. "I'll just add '80s music to the list." It was a running sort of joke with Orlando – at least, Karl thought it was a joke – that he had this list of things he was going to introduce Karl to in order to make him, quote, a more complete person, unquote. Whatever that meant. "I know '80s music," Karl protested, feeling more than affronted at the slight. He totally knew '80s music. Just not, y'know, that synthesizer crap that all the Brits had been making. "Metallica, Queensryche, Def Leppard, Van Halen..." "Dude, hair metal? Seriously?" "What's wrong with hair metal?" "Uh, nothing." But Karl caught Orlando smothering a smile. "Clearly you feel very passionately about the subject." "Whatever," Karl mumbled, with a shrug. Just because Orlando had inferior taste in classic rock music was no reason to be disappointed. Orlando nudged him again. When Karl looked up, he could see that Orlando's smile, normally bright enough to blind entire populations, was muted, conciliatory. "Hey, you're not mad, are you?" "No. Not really." And he wasn't. It was all but impossible to stay mad around Orlando, even if he had been pissed off. Karl'd never known anyone who could diffuse a potentially ugly scene faster than Orlando, even on the field when tempers were high and the game was on the line. "I mean, I think it's cool," Orlando added, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt, and giving Karl a hopeful sort of look. "It's like...y'know, we can teach each other new stuff." "Me, too," Karl nodded, feeling a million times better and, inexplicably, nervous. Which was weird, because this was just Orlando and they'd always been able to talk to each other. "I mean, I think that, too." "Because I like you." Warmth spread from Karl's toes to his fingers at the soft statement. "I like you, too." "No, I mean..." Orlando made a frustrated sound, then tugged at Karl's hand until he could wrap his own around it, the touch heated, insistent. "I like you." Oh. Oh. Oh God... "Oh, um..." Before Karl could fully process a thought or words or the fact that Orlando thought of him like that, Orlando moved. His face swam into view, closer and closer, and then soft lips were pressed against Karl's, the kiss shocking him into silence. He wondered if his glasses were fogging up or if it was just his brain or maybe the situation. Orlando was kissing him. Like, mouth to mouth. He blinked owlishly large when Orlando lifted his head. It didn't help to dispel the dizziness. Karl thought maybe he might be dizzy for the rest of his natural life. Then, Orlando sighed. "I mean, I know you and Drew..." Drew. Fuck, man, Drew. How the hell could he have forgotten about her? "She's been, uh, making noises, um." Karl stopped with an embarrassed laugh. This was seriously the most surreal conversation in the history of ever, man. Which was saying something, considering that Orlando and linear conversation had a passing acquaintance, at best. "About, uh, us moving on?" Orlando's face brightened so fast that Karl thought he might get whiplash. "Yeah?" "I mean, I'm not saying...I don't know what I'm saying." "It's okay." Orlando reached out, looked like he was going to pat Karl on the arm, then thought better of it. His hand dropped back to his lap. "I have no idea what I'm saying, either." "You mean, this is...uh...?" Karl couldn't believe it. Orlando was always so confident and worldly about everything. "First guy I've ever kissed, yeah," Orlando admitted, with a sheepish smile that was possibly the most endearing thing Karl had ever seen. It also made him feel a million times better. "Wasn't much of a kiss." Instantly, Karl could feel his face turn crimson. Fuck, he'd been hanging out with Drew and her friends way too much. Orlando's cheeks were equally pink. "Wasn't sure if you were gonna kick my ass, y'know. Didn't, uh, want to take it further." This was ridiculous. They were both acting like 13 year-old girls. Karl tugged on Orlando's hand. "I'm not gonna kick your ass," he promised, and this time, he initiated the kiss. Orlando's lips were still silky-soft, but now Karl could feel the prickly stubble of Orlando's chin against his and he could taste the faint remnants of mustard and something more elusive – more Orlando – underneath. He wanted more of that, whatever it was. He wanted a lot more. The next time Karl lifted his head, Orlando was half on his lap, and Karl had his hands buried in Orlando's hair. They were both panting like they'd run a particularly brutal 100-yard dash. Orlando's lips were full, bruised, blood-red. His eyes were heavy-lidded, so dark they were almost black. If a guy could look beautiful, then Orlando totally fit the bill at that moment. "Wow," Orlando managed, with a high-pitched, but not unpleasant, laugh. "Yeah." Wow to the fucking nth degree. Karl totally wasn't new to the whole passionate kissing thing, but that had been on another plane of existence entirely. Like, maybe out of the damn solar system different. "So, you've uh..." Orlando shifted, swung his leg across Karl's thighs to settle across him like they'd been doing it for years. Karl, for his part, just slid his hands down a muscled back to grab at lean hips. No fucking way he was letting go. "Really, you've never...?" "Never even dreamed of thinking about it until just now," Karl said, with his own shrug. Not much point in trying to be coy about it. "So..." Orlando gave Karl a steady, level look. "Now what?" A very good question. Luckily, Karl was good at answering them. "We say fuck it to studying for exams and make out like the horny guys we are until we get sick of each other?" Orlando put a hand to Karl's forehead. "Did you seriously just say fuck it to studying?" In that instant, Karl knew, without a doubt, that everything between the two of them would be golden, no matter what happened. "Special occasion," he grinned, and leaned in to close his teeth gently over that stubborn, stubbled chin. "Don't get used to it." "I, um..." Strong, athletic hands spasmed over his shoulders as Orlando moaned. "I won't." Onto Good Clean Fun
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