Highschool!AU Chapter 4 (Part 1)
Chapter Four
If Davey had his way, he would have continued kissing Freddy in that parking lot until the sun went down, and then all through the night, and then only stop when someone made him go to class the next morning. Because God, Freddy was better than he remembered. For one thing, he seemed about a million times more into it. He was really, really, really going for broke, and his hands were shaking like he didn't believe Davey wouldn't change his mind or shout 'just kidding!'. Which, well, Davey didn't blame him for. He couldn't quite believe it either, but he'd decided that he just didn't care. Sure, there were a million reasons not to, but the best reason to was how badly they both wanted it, and God, Davey wanted it. He wanted to hold hands with Freddy and kiss him whenever he damn pleased and eat lunch with him and get rides home - why hadn't he let himself have that? What on earth had been stopping him? And then, abruptly, he remembered.
"Freddy," he whispered regretfully, pulling away. Freddy made a whiny noise, his lips spit-slick and swollen from kissing. It was very difficult for Davey not to lean back in, but now that he'd stopped kissing he realized he was cold, that all of his fingers felt like popsicles in the raw, March air. "We've got to stop," he said regretfully. "And I'm not breaking up with you already!" He said hastily, pressing a quick kiss to Freddy's cheek to reassure him. Unfortunately, Freddy saw him coming and intercepted him, and Davey got distracted for another few minutes while Freddy non-verbally made it clear exactly how in favor of not breaking up he was. "Freddy, seriously," Davey laughed, pulling away. "I've got to stop. I need to break up with Kyle."
"Who?" Freddy asked, his voice raspy. "That drippy little shit? You're still dating that guy?"
"We were never really dating," Davey hedged. "We only kissed once. It was more like, pre-dating." Freddy made an extremely rude-sounding noise. "Yeah, okay, it was a stupid idea," Davey sighed. "I was just... he was really into me, okay? And I thought maybe if I gave him a chance he'd, you know. Grow on me. You're really hard to get over, you know."
Freddy's grin turned dirty. "You know," he rasped, doing something mildly pornographic along the shell of Davey's ear, making him squeak and then shiver. "Just for you, I'll be awfully easy to get under."
"Ugh," Davey laughed, whacking Freddy's chest. "That's disgusting."
"Only for you, baby," Freddy said, waggling his eyebrows. He only sounded like he was half-joking.
"I'm serious, though," Davey said softly. "I'm not going to be a jerk, okay? After history tomorrow, I'll break up with him. I just want to do it right."
"I guess," Freddy sighed, resting his forehead against Davey's. "I just... I mean, you finally want to kiss me and..."
"And that won't change," Davey said firmly. "Seriously, I've been trying to not want to since September."
"Really?" Freddy grinned. "September? You've been holding out on me?"
"Yes," Davey sniffed. "I had to be sure of your intentions. Now drive me home, somebody has been keeping me outside and my fingers are about to fall off."
"Right," Freddy said, hurrying around the passenger's side to open the car door for Davey with a ridiculous flourish. "After you."
And since that was really, really, cute, Davey gave him a quick kiss for his effort. And a longer one goodbye when they arrived.
A much longer one.
- - -
Freddy sped the way home that day, with all the windows open so Ella's rich voice could spill out from his stereo out to the world. It earned him a couple of quizzical looks from pedestrians, unaccustomed to anything that wasn't accompanied by a booming bass. He grinned and waved at them.
He felt a little as if he'd been smacked on the back of the head by a two-by-four. Less than a half hour ago, he had been kissing Davey. Less than an hour ago, Davey had been kissing him. In front of Joey, no less. Freddy knew it was A Bad Thing to antagonize his new boyfriend's brother, but that didn't stop him from savoring the utter look of astonishment when Davey kissed him. And the best part was the irony - if it wasn't for Joey, Davey probably wouldn't have decided to be with him. If Joey hadn't decided to pick a fight with him, if he hadn't decided to yell at him in the parking lot, Freddy never would have yelled... whatever sentimental, cringingly embarrassing but utterly true thing he had yelled that was responsible for the joy skating though his body.
Freddy drummed his fingertips excitedly on the steering wheel as he rolled into the driveway, humming as he crashed loudly into the kitchen, startling his grandparents. "Where have you been, Frederick?" Pops asked, looking faintly annoyed. He smoothed out the newspaper he was reading. "I thought you were going to help me in the shop after school. I called you."
"Yeah," Freddy said. He remembered his cell phone buzzing against the notch in Davey's hip a few times, but he had been too preoccupied by Davey's lips and mouth to notice, let alone answer. "My phone was off."
"Oh." Alex softened. "I wish it you had come around, I could've used the extra set of hands."
"Sorry," Freddy said happily, slipping his knapsack off his shoulders onto the coffee table. "I got tied up."
"I wish you would've called, then." Pops sighed. "I let two of my part-timers go home early. Can you come in tomorrow afternoon, then?"
"I don't know, Pops." Davey would be free the entire night on Friday, and that was too golden of an opportunity to pass on. "Maybe."
"It's just some tables that need to have legs cut and varnished," Pops frowned. "Won't take long at all."
"What's all this?" Regina came out of the back room, holding a basket of newly cleaned corn ears. "Freddy, help your grandfather out, won't you?"
"I will," Freddy said, making a beeline for the kitchen. "I was just busy after school."
"What on earth were you doing?" Regina frowned and set the ears on the counter. "You didn't have work or track practice today."
"I had to take my boyfriend home," Freddy shrugged. "You know, Davey from the cafe? I gave him a ride." He grabbed a pear from Regina's always fresh fruit basket and bit into it. "What's for dinner?" After about a month of silence after Freddy moved in with his grandparents, after his parents' death, Regina and Alex figured out that feelings weren't something Freddy ever wanted to talk about. But it was still funny to see Regina stuff her first desire to yell and delight and possibly squeeze Freddy to death under a cool nod.
"Is that so?" Her eyes twinkled. "Well, that's nice, Freddy. Isn't that nice, Alex?"
"Very nice," Pops' eyes were equally proud over his newspaper. "Excellent. That Davey boy is a nice one."
"We'll have to have him over for dinner sometime," Regina said, allowing a smidgen of excitement to creep into her voice. "Again, I mean."
"Very nice," Pops repeated. "Just make sure to, ah, call next time, won't you?"
"Sure thing, Pops." Freddy finished his pear and tossed the core into the trashcan neatly.
- - -
Davey should have had a really, really great night. He finished his homework early, Freddy was his boyfriend, and Fabrizio has managed to sneak him the last of the extremely popular cheesecake squares. "Special gift," he had whispered, winking and passing it to Davey covered up in napkins. It was currently stashed safely in Davey's room, because his mom had expressly forbid Fabrizio from preferential treatment to people he liked, especially on blueberry cheesecake squares, since they were a top seller. And if she knew... well, she'd probably just yell at Davey for enabling. And Davey really, really needed her advice at the moment.
"...and so I really like Freddy," Davey babbled to his mother, pacing in circles while she bemusedly stirred the beef stew. "But I have no way how to break up with Kyle, even though I wasn't dating Kyle, but he thinks I was, and he's going to be mad at me, and..."
"Davey," his mother said gently, "what would you like me to tell you?"
"How to break up with Kyle without being a jerk!" Davey yelled. "God, Mom, weren't you listening?"
"I think the problem was that I was listening," his mother said, smiling under Davey's attempt at a glare that probably looked more pitiful than intimidating. "Sweetheart," she said soothingly, turning the stew down to simmer. "There's no nice way to break up with someone, especially when it's leaving them for someone else."
"But I'm... I'm not... Oh Christ," Davey wailed, sitting down heavily at his mother's desk/kitchen table. "Mom, can't you break up with him for me?"
"No," his mother said, kissing his forehead. "The moral of this story is, you can't be nice all the time, especially when you're trying to do what's right. Now grow that spine I know you have."
So, taking his mother's advice, Davey had manned up and pulled Kyle aside after class, explaining as honestly as he could what happened, but leaving out the fact that he made out with Freddy in the parking lot for about an hour. As far as Kyle needed to know, they shook hands and gazed longingly into each other's eyes. It still didn't stop Kyle from bursting into girly tears, his face turning red and splochy.
"I-I-I knew there was something with that Kennedy!" he sobbed, while Davey pat his shoulder awkwardly "God, what is wrong with me?"
"It's not you!" Davey lied sincerely. "You're a great guy, Kyle, it's just... Freddy's more my type romantically. And you're a great friend, but I just don't feel like we... fit as boyfriends." There. At least he managed to end it truthfully.
"I just think he'll hurt you, Davey!" Kyle wailed. "He's such a slut."
"Yeah," Davey said. "That's why I really tried to, you know, look around first. But I need to just... take the chance, you know?"
Kyle nodded tearfully, wrapping his arms around Davey. "I'll always be there for you," he sniffled into Davey's shoulder. "When that... jerk... double-crosses you."
"Thanks Kyle, that means a lot," Davey said uncomfortably, patting Kyle on the back until he could guiltlessly run away to Freddy's locker and groan loudly into his chest.
"Break up with Kyle?" Freddy asked sympathetically wrapping his arms around Davey and squeezing. "I know how that is, it's why I switched to boys and one-night stands."
"Not helping your case right now," Davey moaned.
"Right, sorry," Freddy said, dipping down and pressing a quick kiss against Davey's lips. "That help me?"
"Little bit," Davey said, narrowing his eyes and fighting a grin. "Do that again and come over for dinner, and then I'll completely forget what you said."
"You're a hardcore bargain driver," Freddy said solemnly, tipping Davey's head back to give him a ridiculously lush, wet, movie-star kiss that left Davey gasping and gripping on Freddy's shoulders desperately for support. "I accept," Freddy said when he pulled away, lacing his fingers in between Davey's. "Now c'mon, we've still got band before our hot date."
"Suddenly, I hate music," Davey said sadly.
"Me too," Freddy sighed. "Me too."
- - -
Freddy showed up on Davey's doorstep barely on time. It had taken him longer for normal to get dressed since every clean t-shirt was either too tight or had some message written on the front that screamed 'I AM A DOUCHE.' It wasn't just his shirts. Almost all of his pants, his shoes, and his socks had the same invisible message. His hair had even looked wrong as he stared at it in the mirror. It was too glib, somehow, as if the curls were a sign of flightiness. He tried to fix it, but the only result was that it was now uncomfortably damp with water, as if he had just taken a shower.
It felt important that Davey's mom should instantly like him and Freddy didn't know and didn't care to examine why. Elizabeth's dad had very visibly disliked him, but they had gone on together nonetheless. For some reason, Davey was different. It wouldn't do if both Joey and Mrs. O'Brian hated him. Then it would be only Davey waving a Freddy flag, and how long could that last, especially with Davey as close as he was with his mom?
"Regina," he had asked casually, while she chopped fruit. "What would you do if I showed up on your doorstep?"
Her patience had begun to run thin after reassuring Freddy every half-hour, as he sauntered in, wearing something different, that he looked fine. "Run for the hills," she replied dryly, not even looking up. "Lock up all available girls and boys."
"I'm being serious," Freddy groaned. "I thought this was your thing. Providing grandmotherly advice to attractive but desperate grandsons."
"I don't know, Freddy." She threw her hands up in the air. "Flowers?"
"That's what I'm talking about," Freddy grinned. "What type? Sunflowers? Lilies? Would roses be too much? Daisies?"
The only reply from Regina was a very exasperated sigh.
In the end, Freddy chose a small bouquet of multicolored tulips, carefully arranged in bright tissue paper. But what seemed a great idea became silly as Freddy sped to Davey's house. When Freddy was finally inches away from Davey's doorbell, he began to feel stupid and cheesy. He contemplated throwing the bouquet into Davey's bushes. No, he thought, climbing the long flight of stairs to the apartment above the bakery. The right thing to do would be to whisk Davey away, figure out whether his mom liked flowers, steal a few kisses, and then decide what to do.
But what if Joey came to the door instead? Then he would really look like an ass. Texting was safer. Freddy slid his phone out of his back pocket and punched in Davey's number.
He was halfway through texting dont laff but does ur mom like flowers when the door opened abruptly. A pretty, brown-haired woman with her hair swept off her face in a low, messy knot stood in the doorway, looking surprised as she brushed her flyaway wispy bangs out of her face.
"Buh," Freddy said. "Uh- hi. I'm Freddy."
"Hello, Freddy." She smiled and stuck her hand out. "I saw your car pull up the driveway, so I figured it must be you."
"Yes," Freddy said, gaining composure as he shook her hand. He snapped his phone shut and put on his best suave voice. "It's very nice to meet you. These are for you."
"Oh, how sweet!" she exclaimed, stepping aside to let Freddy in. "Did Davey tell you tulips are my favorites?"
"Uhm, no?" Freddy said hopefully, looking down at her serenely smiling face. She was very pretty, he realized abruptly. She was probably one of the more beautiful moms he'd ever seen who wasn't famous, but he also was extremely biased, because she looked so much like Davey it was uncanny. She had the same sweet face with fine features, the same funny nose and huge brown eyes with long, curled lashes, the same stubborn, pointy chin, the same thick, straight honey-brown hair (streaked with gray, Freddy supposed that was Joey’s fault), and a thicker version of Davey's quirky little lips. But her face was rounder, her cheekbones much less sharp than both Davey and Joey's. And when she smiled she suddenly looked much more like Joey, who, on the rare occasions Freddy had seen him smile, smiled with his entire face and a wide-open mouth. Not like Davey, whose smiles were always so tiny and sweet and mostly in his eyes, like his happiness was a secret that only the worthy who were watching would get to know about. Freddy was already helplessly as in love with her as he was with her younger son, watching her bustle around the kitchen and put out the tulips on the small table in what looked like a combination of a huge living room and tiny dining room, separated by half of a wall. She was just like Davey had lovingly described her. She was just like what a mother, in his opinion, should be. And right then he decided that if he had to suck up to Joey to do it, he would make her think that he pretty much walked on water.
"Do you need any help with dinner?" He asked politely.
"What?" She said, looking up from where she was humming Joni Mitchell to some bubbling pot. "Oh, no, sweetheart, thank you. Davey's told me about your culinary skills. He's told me about almost everything, actually. So has Joey, for that matter, though it was more, well, shouting."
"Aw, crap," Freddy groaned, running a hand through his hair. "You must already hate me."
"Not at all, I've quite liked you for a bit," she said, smiling at him. "Now shoo, Davey's in his room waiting for you, and I sent Joey out on some errands to cool off before he was allowed back in the house."
Dutifully, Freddy fled the kitchen and into the living room/dining room conglomerate, where there were several closed doors to his left, and Davey could be hiding behind any of them. The first one had a small wreath of dried lavender hanging on it, so he guessed that was Mary's. The next one had a lock, so that was the bathroom. The third one and fourth ones were the problem. Both were plain and unadorned, but the first one was silent, and some strange, indie music was straining from under the door of the last one. Bingo, he thought, opening the door. It was the right choice. Inside was a small room, painted a dark seafoam green. There was a window opposite him where various knick-knacks and action figures were posed on the sill. To his right was a wall entirely filled with bookshelves, a dresser, and an old-fashioned radiator. And to his left, a small, messily-made bed with white sheets and a navy comforter underneath a huge map of the world, an electronic keyboard, and Davey on a slightly outdated desktop, earbuds stuffed in his ears while he air-pianoed along with whatever was playing loud enough to block out all other noise. His eyes were screwed closed and Freddy guessed he could have started performing magic tricks and Davey wouldn't have even noticed. He had clearly not worried about the date at all, he was still in his rumpled clothes from school that day - jeans, a t-shirt, and his favorite, ubiquitous zip-up hoodie with dark green and navy stripes, which, as far as Freddy was concerned, made him look like a sloppy extra from Whoville. And yet he still wanted to make out with Davey as much as humanly possible. It was potentially time to re-examine his kinks, he thought, tiptoeing behind Davey and leaning over him, resting his hands on his shoulders. Davey clearly had had no idea Freddy was in the house, let alone the room, because he let out an almighty yelp and jumped a foot in the air, wrenching out his earphones and looking around wild-eyed and panicked for a few seconds.
"Jesus Christ," he sighed, closing his eyes and resting a hand over his heart. "You scared the crap out of me. Warn a guy."
"I would have," Freddy said fairly, "but I don't think you would have heard me."
"True," Davey said, smiling as he leaned in to give Freddy a soft kiss. "Hi."
"Hi," Freddy sighed, wrapping his arms around Davey and kissing him again, feeling calm for the first time since he'd entered the house.
"You okay?" Davey asked quietly, looking up at him with wide, concerned eyes that made Freddy melt unreasonably fast into a big, soppy puddle of putty that Davey could have molded to do with whatever he liked.
"Yeah," Freddy said. "Just nervous about your mom."
"She already likes you," Davey grinned, leaning in to give Freddy a soft, re-assuring kiss. "Lydia and I have both been going on about you for so long she'd decided we should date before I had."
"Remind me to get Lydia flowers too," Freddy sighed gratefully. "Or maybe, like, an entire continent."
"Oh, I see," Davey scoffed. "I get nothing for talking you up."
"You get the Kennedy experience," Freddy purred into Davey's ear, manhandling him back to the bed, where he fell over with a giggling squeak, Freddy following on top of him. "Allow me to show you just how grateful - fuck, ow!" he yelped, as something under Davey's bed clawed viciously at his ankle.
"Mog," Davey said without explanation, wriggling out of Freddy's grasp and crawling under the bed, pulling out a huge, fat, seal gray cat with white socks and tail tip. Her bright green eyes were narrowed at Freddy, and she hissed at his face. "This is my cat. She hates everyone but me."
"Mog?" Freddy asked, deciding to go with the part of that sentence that he had the least problem with.
"She's really Mom's," Davey explained, sitting down and scratching the cat behind the ears. She began to purr grumpily, though she was still glaring at Freddy with pure hatred. "Dad got her for Mom's birthday when I was three. Mom named her Molly, but I could only say 'Moggie', and so the name sort of stuck. She thinks she's mine."
"Has she ever killed anyone?" Freddy asked, inching away from her death stare until she sniffed and turned her face to butt under Davey’s chin. He hated cats for this exact reason.
"She tried with Joey, once," Davey said blithely. The cat rose in Freddy's estimation. "He was in one of his tormenting me stages and she got protective until Joey started feeding her. Then she decided it was okay."
"I think she eats small children," Freddy said fearfully. Mog, as if hearing the accusation in his tone, turned her back to him, her tail swishing disdainfully as she shamelessly purred and butted her head again under Davey's chin, as if reminding Freddy who, exactly, he belonged to.
"Aw, he's just jealous," Davey cooed, scratching her. It was sort of cute, Freddy was man enough to admit, that Davey had a deranged ninja-cat eating out of the palm of his hand. It was also petrifying. And made Freddy kind of afraid of having the makeout session he'd planned for him, Davey, and Davey's ridiculously soft bed.
"I'm not just jealous," Freddy said, crossing his legs and moving closer to Davey tentatively. "She scratched my ankle. I'm bleeding."
"Did you swipe at Freddy?" Davey cooed again, scratching Mog between the ears. She purred and licked one fat paw happily.
"She's had her shots, hasn't she?" Freddy looked at his ankle warily, which was already scabbing over. "I'm not going to come down with cat herpes or tetanus something after this, will I?"
"She's fine," Davey sighed, shooting Freddy a look before he stood up, shooing Mog out the door gently. She turned around and gave Freddy a hard look. Freddy shivered. Satan's spawn, he thought.
"I think we were in the middle of something," Davey said after closing the door, flopping backwards onto his bed. "I think you were saying something about 'the Kennedy experience' and 'grateful' but I might have imagined that."
"Let me help you remember," Freddy said, in his suave voice that seemed only to send Davey into uncontrollable fits of laughter, the kind that came out in hopelessly high-pitched spasms.
"Don't laugh at me." Freddy said, staring at Davey petulantly. Davey wiped a tear from his eye, still giggling. "Fine, then." He covered Davey's mouth with his own and suddenly, Davey was most definitely not laughing.
By time they emerged again, Joey had returned and had on an expression eerily similar to the one Mog shot him before darting back under Davey’s bed, like he'd have liked to kill Freddy if he thought he could get away with it. He wasn’t even trying to hide his pout, sitting in an armchair at the far end of the living room with his arms crossed.
"Hello, Joey," Freddy said, following Davey onto the couch.
Joey nodded in response, refusing to look directly at Freddy. "Movie time. What are we watching?" he asked stiffly.
"The Princess Bride!" Davey suggested happily, sinking down beside the couch. Freddy threw a possessive arm around his shoulder."Freddy brought my tape back!" Both Freddy and Joey bit back their moans quickly, but Mary’s was audible even from the kitchen.
"We've seen that movie a hundred times," Joey said bluntly. "I don't want to watch it again."
"You have seen it a lot," his mom added more tactfully from the kitchen.
"I brought Ocean's Eleven," Freddy piped up. "It's in the backseat of my car. I could run out and get it."
"Well, all right," Joey said reluctantly.
"You'll love it, Davey," Freddy said, stroking softly at the hair curling around the nape of Davey's neck. "I swear. We can finish the Princess Bride some other time, okay? Alone," he whispered meaningfully into Davey's ear
"Okay," Davey said, pressing a quick kiss against Freddy's smile, and Freddy chose out of charity to ignore the retching noises Joey was making while he ran back out to his car.
It turned out that Davey did like the movie. "Bombs are cool," he said, resting his head on Freddy's shoulder. "They just have to have a point, you know? It has to be a smart movie."
"Fuck that shit," Joey said, and Freddy made an agreeing noise. Joey even shot him a tiny, almost-nice look from his armchair, where Mog had slunk back out and, upon being rejected by Davey, gone and sat in Joey's lap with the air of trying to make Davey jealous, which didn't seem to be working. But Joey seemed so genuinely delighted that she was paying attention to him that he was lavishing her with affection like she was a queen and her eyes were slitted in pleasure, so Freddy considered it a universal win. What no one could agree on, however, was who was the coolest of the eleven.
"Danny is the mastermind behind the heist," Joey said decidedly. "And besides, he caught a charge."
"So?" Freddy frowned.
"So while he was doing hard time in prison, Rusty was running some lame poker class." Joey leaned back and smirked. "Danny is obviously cooler."
"Rusty is the man." Freddy shook his head. "He had to help Danny when he got out of prison, because Danny sucked."
"What about -" Davey started, but both Freddy and Joey shushed him. What had turned into a simple conversation over who was the better heist planner was fast turning into an argument, accompanied by the clangs in the kitchen as Davey's mom fixed dinner.
"Rusty would have never had the balls to plan a heist like that." Joey shook his head vehemently. "Never."
"Yeah, but Danny couldn't have finished it by himself. He let his emotions get in the way." Freddy snorted.
"Yeah," Joey said. "Because he was nailing Julia Roberts. Another reason why Danny is better than Rusty. Who's he nailing? His right hand, that's who."
Freddy rolled his eyes. "Julia Roberts isn't that hot, okay. And Rusty doesn't need a woman. He's Brad Pitt. He's hot enough by himself."
"Whatever." Joey rolled his eyes, his anger overtaking his awareness of the decidedly gay turn the conversation was taking. "George Clooney is classy. It's just like you, Kennedy, to have no taste at all."
"Joey." Mary called out sharply from the kitchen. "Stop it."
"Hey," Freddy said, mock-affronted. "I think I have great taste." Davey beamed up at him
"I like Linus," Davey piped up. "He saved the day."
Joey and Freddy stared at Davey silently. Freddy was trying to figure out how to voice his opinion and still get Davey to make out with him when Joey cut in. "That's just retarded, Davey," he said flatly.
"Joey, be nice," his mother called out from the kitchen, exasperated. "Boys, you can sit down now. Dinner's ready."
"I'm just saying," Freddy said as they made their way to the small table, "who would you date, Rusty or Danny?"
"I wouldn't date either of them," Joey said, looking disgusted. "I'd date Julia Roberts. Duh."
"I'd date Linus," Davey added again.
"Davey, you're awesome, but - Linus?" Freddy raised one eyebrow. "Really?"
"One," Davey said, ticking off his fingers "Matt Damon is cute."
"He looks constipated," Joey pointed out. "And his forehead is out of control."
"Have to go with Joey on this one," Freddy said reluctantly.
"I think he's cute," Davey glared. "And as I was saying, two, he's a thief with a conscience, and three, Rusty and Danny are totally dating each other, and I don't want to break that up."
"Oh, no," Joey groaned, sitting down and grabbing the salad while Mary put out the chicken parmesan. "Davey, you can't put gay in every movie we watch."
"Wow," Freddy said, wide-eyed. "You're right. They're totally doing it."
"That's what I'm saying!" Davey exclaimed, serving Freddy a generous helping of chicken on top of his pasta, like he knew Freddy would probably go in for thirds. Davey, Freddy thought, was probably the greatest boyfriend ever.
"Davey does this for every movie," Mary said, taking the salad from Joey. "He always finds some sort of gay subtext and ruins it for Joey."
"Like how the real love story in the Princess Bride is the Spanish guy and the giant?" Freddy asked.
"Oh god," Joey groaned, his mouth full of pasta. "No, I have seen this movie a billion times because Davey made me, okay, neither of them is the princess, or the bride."
"Aww, that's actually really cute," Davey sighed dreamily, twirling his pasta on his fork. "I mean, they stick together through thick and thin and play rhyming games..."
"Much cuter than Wesley and Buttercup," Freddy added.
"You just have a vendetta," Davey began reproachfully, but Mary cut him off.
"New conversation," She said hastily, sending a quelling glance in Joey's direction when he started to narrow his eyes and twirl his knife meaningfully. "Davey tells me you play trumpet, Freddy?"
"Yeah," Freddy said, his eyes lighting up. "It's... yeah. I've been playing forever, ever since I was ten, I always wanted to be just like Chet Baker, you know..."
"Who?" Joey asked.
"Famous trumpet player," Davey said quickly, before Freddy could launch into a monologue that probably would cause Joey to stab him. Freddy still made a miffed expression at Davey, who looked utterly unrepentant.
"Anyways," he said, "it's, I don't know. It's my thing. I really, really like it."
"Just like Davey, then," Mary said, her expression going soft. "He's been playing piano what, nine years?" Davey nodded through a mouthful of chicken.
"How'd he start?" Freddy asked. He knew how Davey started clarinet - the same way he started trumpet - because the school gave a year of classes on certain instruments in fifth grade, and it just stuck because Davey liked music.
"It was after Dad died," Davey said when he swallowed. "I asked if I could, and mom thought it'd be good for me, you know, to have something to keep busy with. That's when Joey started violin too - ow! Joey, what the hell?"
"Joey plays violin?" Freddy asked, delighted.
"He's very good," Davey said. "I don't know why he's so secretive about it."
"Me either," Freddy grinned. "After all, it's the manliest instrument I can think of..."
"It looks good on my college resume," Joey said defensively. And then, when Freddy and Davey looked like they were on the verge of bursting into laughter, "Mom...."
"Davey," his mother said severely, taking a sip of wine, "be quiet, there are things I could tell Freddy about you that you wouldn't like either."
"Yeah," Joey said, looking far too pleased with himself, "like your giant crush on Captain Planet."
"You had a crush on Captain Planet?" Freddy asked, turning to Davey with barely-contained glee.
"I still think they're making this up," Davey protested loudly, his ears going bright pink.
"When Davey was two and a half," Mary explained, "there was a week where all he wanted to wear was his red footie pajamas and the yellow dishwashing gloves because he wanted to look like Captain Planet, and when Peter asked him why, he said it was because they were getting married."
"But no photographic proof exists," Davey accused, pointing his fork at his mother.
"I think it's cute," Freddy said sweetly, and was rewarded by a huge smile from Davey.
"Really?" He asked bashfully, pushing the last few bites of chicken on his plate.
"Of course," Freddy said, taking his hand under the table and kissing his cheek, feeling it heat up delightfully under his lips. Davey was bright red and pleased-looking when he pulled away. "Now what I'd like to know," he went on, "is if you really wanted the blue mullet to match."
Davey's eyes narrowed.
"Don't worry," Freddy continued blithely, "I mean, he is our hero, taking pollution down to zero."
"I hate you all," Davey said, stabbing the remains of his chicken, but a smile was playing at the corner of his mouth, and he didn't let go of Freddy's hand under the table either.
"Remember, Davey," Freddy said, his eyes wide. "You, too, can be a Planeteer, as long as you remember that looting and polluting is not the way."
"The planet," Joey intoned solemnly, "is yours."
"More chicken?" Mary asked, her smile wide and approving.
- - -
"Cradle me," Davey sang quietly along to the music, spraying globs of dough from the mixing bowl in the sink. "I'll cradle you."
"And then they all died." Lydia's lip curled up in disgust. "So I by then, I was like, okay, worst movie ever, and then -"
"I'll win your heart," Davey crooned, putting the clean bowl to dry with a jaunty clang. "With a woop-a-woo -"
"Davey." Lydia crossed her arms. "You aren't paying attention. And we've been listening to this song all morning."
"Have we?" Davey looked up, surprised.
"Yes." Lydia groaned. "Every time it finishes you press repeat. Don't think I haven't noticed."
"Well," Davey said defensively, "I like this song." He began to wipe up the dripping water around the counters
"Me too," Lydia's eyes followed Davey around the room. "And there's other stuff on this CD I like equally. What's up with you?"
"What do you mean by that?" Davey frowned.
Lydia shrugged. "I don't know. It just seems like you're acting kind of - hey, what's that?" Her eyes narrowed.
"What's what?" Davey asked, blinking innocently.
"That." Lydia hopped off the counter and yanked the edge of Davey's t-shirt down, exposing a dime-sized purple fleck.
"Oh," Davey said, trying to catch a glimpse. Freddy must have put it there after dinner. A very gentlemanly offer to walk Freddy to his car turned immediately into a very gentlemanly, almost chaste kiss goodnight. But Freddy had spent all night being charming and funny and just nice, so Davey couldn't resist making things a bit more interesting; even if his mother was patiently waiting for him to come back in. He rubbed his neck self-consciously. "Well, he does bite."
"Huh," Lydia murmured. "I didn't think that what's-his-name had it in him."
"Kyle?" Davey grinned slowly. He knew that Lydia knew his name. Kyle had come around to the cafe a few times, and while Lydia had been very polite, it was clear that he wasn't the type of guy Lydia had in mind for Davey to be not-sensible with.
Lydia touched it lightly. "Yeah, him. That's a good one," She let him go, pulling his collar up over his neck. "You better put some ice on that later." She patted him in a congratulatory manner on his back. "Good for you, Davey."
"Thanks." Davey tucked his collar carefully around it.
"So," Lydia said casually. "You and Kyle, is that going well?"
"We broke up," Davey said cheerily, forgetting to add a hint of remorse to his voice. "It wasn't working out." Lydia looked silently stunned while Davey made his way back out front to help Sarah with the line, Lydia making confused noises in the kitchen.
"Would you like a frequent customer card?" Sarah was saying politely to Freddy, who was gnawing on his lower lip in concentration, hunched over the counter. He straightened when he saw Davey come out of the back, wiping his hands on a small towel.
"Um," Freddy was craning his neck around to look behind her. "Sure, why not?"
"Hey," Davey said motioning Freddy out of line so Sarah could help the next person. "I thought you had to work today." Freddy grinned, tilting Davey's head up and kissing him lightly. Sarah politely pretended not to notice.
"I thought I'd drop by before." Freddy smiled. He looked even nicer when he smiled, Davey thought, covering one of Freddy's dry hands with his damp one. "Grab a snack for myself. And Dan, because if I don't he'll just steal half of mine and complain constantly for the next hour. Don't tell me you're bummed out I'm not Captain Planet, or something."
"Nope," Davey said giving Freddy another light kiss before stepping back. "What do you want?" He opened his arms expansively. "You came to the right place. We are a veritable snack emporium."
Freddy glanced around. "I don't know. What do you recommend?"
Davey shrugged. "I like the ham and cheese croissants."
"Two of those, then."
Davey slipped two large, buttery croissants into a bag and handed it over to Freddy, who reached for his wallet. Davey shook his head. "These are on me."
Freddy grinned widely. "Thanks."
"I didn't say they were free. Right here," Davey tapped on the side of his cheek. "Those are fantastic pastries, so you better make it good."
"Of course," Freddy said, sliding his arms down Davey's shoulders and pulling them together. He kissed Davey slowly, sweetly until Lydia came out of the back room and tittered softly, startling Davey.
"Lydia," Freddy said, pulling away and saluting. Lydia nodded back.
"Sorry," Davey whispered against his lips. "Work calls,"
"Yeah," Freddy said regretfully, giving Davey one last kiss. "See you later?"
"Uh-huh," Davey said, letting go and leaning on his elbows to watch Freddy weave through the light crowd of people in line for their morning coffee, vaguely aware that he looked like a twelve year old girl and too happy to care.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Lydia blinked, "Did I just see what I thought I saw? What the hell was that?"
"I thought it over," Davey stood up straight. "And I found out I hadn't made the best choice at all." He looked sheepish. "So, yeah."
Lydia held out her hands for a hug, but the second Davey reached for her, she deftly grabbed his neck and gave him a very affectionate noogie. "I," she said, over Davey's squeals, "am so proud of you."
"Mercy!" Davey yelped. "Mercy! Less violent pride! Ow!"
- - -
It quickly became crystal clear to Freddy that Davey had never in his entire life been in a relationship before, and not knowing what to do was freaking him out. But what was freaking him out even more was that Freddy did know how everything worked.
"Hi," Davey said nervously when he called Freddy on Sunday. "Do you not want to talk? We don't have to talk. In fact, sorry, I shouldn't have called."
"Davey," Freddy said soothingly, "you can call me. You're my boyfriend."
"But I just saw you yesterday!" Davey exclaimed. He sounded like he might be pacing. "I don't know. Maybe you need, like, space."
"If I need space, how about I tell you?" Freddy asked practically. "Because, you know, we're dudes, and dudes actually say things instead of doing that weird secret signal shit girls do."
"I guess," Davey said skeptically. "Anyways, I was calling because I had... questions."
"Questions?"
"I think we need to make some guidelines," Davey said. "Like, are we kissing in public? More than we already have? Do you find holding hands acceptable? Or is it girly? What about nicknames? Are we eating lunch together? Am I good at kissing or are you just humoring me? Is there stuff you like I'm not doing? Is there stuff that you don't like that I am? What's your schedule? When's the latest I can call you by? Are you one of those people who hates talking on the phone? Do..."
"Davey," Freddy soothed, trying to hold back his laughter. "Davey, it's okay."
"No it's not," Davey said miserably. "I always thought this was just stuff you just figured out slowly, but I feel like, like you already have it figured out and I don't know anything, and this is way more important that I thought it would be, and..."
"Davey," Freddy repeated softly, feeling his insides go treacherously mushy. "You just do what feels right, and I bet its right. You're way smarter than me."
"Smarter than I," Davey corrected absently. "Well, actually, it's sort of a gray area. Because it would be 'you're smarter than I am', but I think it's different when you don’t have the verb after? I don't know."
"See?" Freddy said. "I don't even get that shit. Just keep doing whatever you've been doing because it's amazing."
"Really?" Davey asked brightly. "And the kissing?"
"One of the best kissers I've ever kissed," Freddy assured him. Davey was actually probably due to graduate to the best, if he kept up his current trajectory. He just needed to refine his technique slightly. But if he said that Davey would probably dither some more about how to learn technique and who was better and that wasn't really helpful to anyone.
"Really?" Davey sounded like he was blushing though the phone, and Freddy wished that he didn't have to be at dinner in a half an hour, because what he wanted more than anything was to go make out with Davey right at that very moment.
"Really," he said.
And mostly, Davey seemed to take that to heart. He was still bashful and nervous touching Freddy, but he clearly wanted to. He just needed reassurance. And if anyone else needed this much validation, Freddy probably would have gone crazy. But this was Davey. And partially Freddy had a blind spot a mile wide where Davey was concerned, but partially because Davey so obviously was just trying to be the absolute best he could be for Freddy that it was impossible for him to do anything but find it adorable. And the best way he found to do that was positive re-enforcement. Namely, making out with Davey as much as humanly possible as a reward. Every time they did, Davey relaxed, like every time Freddy kissed him was just more proof that he was doing exactly the right thing.
So most afternoons, after GSA or track, Davey would put off homework for an hour or two just to come lay down with Freddy in his basement room. They'd usually start by talking about their days, but that tended to degenerate really quickly into making out and maybe having inane discussions about nothing at all. Today, it was their favorite season.
"Summer," Freddy was insisting while brushing a stubborn cowlick away from Davey's face. "Better sports. No school. Ice cream. Swimming."
"You just don't like to wear clothes," Davey sighed, somehow managing to burrow his face deeper into both Freddy's pillow and his hand.
"Clothes suck," Freddy agreed, leaning in to kiss Davey and move his hand down to rest on his hip instead.
"I like winter," Davey said, opening his eyes sleepily. "It's cuddly. And I like snow."
"But it's cold," Freddy complained.
"Wimp," Davey said, propping himself up and rolling over on top of Freddy before he leaned down for a long, slow kiss.
"But if we had no school," Freddy said when they broke apart. "We could do this. All day."
"But it would be hot out," Davey whined. "And eating and cooking is gross in the summer. Food tastes better when it's cold."
"You always taste good," Freddy said, nipping at Davey's chin. He liked that Davey walked around with tiny bruises, now. He always made sure that they were small, but they were there, if anyone was looking. He couldn't imagine why someone wouldn't be looking at Davey all the time.
"Cuddling's better when it's cold," Davey pointed out, smiling down at him.
"I do not cuddle," Freddy said grumpily. "This is prolonged kissing."
"Okay," Davey said indulgently, kissing behind Freddy's ear the way he liked, which had to be rewarded, naturally, with more kissing.
Davey was also having issues not telling his mother anything, which he had a minor breakdown over every day. "She's going to ask," he said fretfully, trying to pat down his hair, which was ridiculous, since his hair was always sticking up every which way, and usually changed direction on its own throughout the day anyways, like a bizarre weather pattern map.
"Your mom won't ask," Freddy assured him, dropping a kiss on the side of his neck over a healing hickey. Davey shivered a little under his lips.
"She'll give me a look," Davey said. "And I'll just have to tell her! And who's going to believe we just spent an hour and a half kissing and talking? She knows us."
"She's not Regina," Freddy pointed out. "She was young, once. Like, at a time they had electricity. She knows what dating and making out is like."
"Urk," Davey said, pulling a face. "That's not a thought I wanted to be thinking."
"I can make you think about something else," Freddy wheedled, inching his hands under Davey's t-shirt and pulling him back on the bed, kissing all of his tender spots until he was giggling and pliant again before Freddy even thought about driving him home to do work.
That was the nice thing about Davey, Freddy decided. He was a quick study at this whole boyfriend business.
- - -
Part 2
If Davey had his way, he would have continued kissing Freddy in that parking lot until the sun went down, and then all through the night, and then only stop when someone made him go to class the next morning. Because God, Freddy was better than he remembered. For one thing, he seemed about a million times more into it. He was really, really, really going for broke, and his hands were shaking like he didn't believe Davey wouldn't change his mind or shout 'just kidding!'. Which, well, Davey didn't blame him for. He couldn't quite believe it either, but he'd decided that he just didn't care. Sure, there were a million reasons not to, but the best reason to was how badly they both wanted it, and God, Davey wanted it. He wanted to hold hands with Freddy and kiss him whenever he damn pleased and eat lunch with him and get rides home - why hadn't he let himself have that? What on earth had been stopping him? And then, abruptly, he remembered.
"Freddy," he whispered regretfully, pulling away. Freddy made a whiny noise, his lips spit-slick and swollen from kissing. It was very difficult for Davey not to lean back in, but now that he'd stopped kissing he realized he was cold, that all of his fingers felt like popsicles in the raw, March air. "We've got to stop," he said regretfully. "And I'm not breaking up with you already!" He said hastily, pressing a quick kiss to Freddy's cheek to reassure him. Unfortunately, Freddy saw him coming and intercepted him, and Davey got distracted for another few minutes while Freddy non-verbally made it clear exactly how in favor of not breaking up he was. "Freddy, seriously," Davey laughed, pulling away. "I've got to stop. I need to break up with Kyle."
"Who?" Freddy asked, his voice raspy. "That drippy little shit? You're still dating that guy?"
"We were never really dating," Davey hedged. "We only kissed once. It was more like, pre-dating." Freddy made an extremely rude-sounding noise. "Yeah, okay, it was a stupid idea," Davey sighed. "I was just... he was really into me, okay? And I thought maybe if I gave him a chance he'd, you know. Grow on me. You're really hard to get over, you know."
Freddy's grin turned dirty. "You know," he rasped, doing something mildly pornographic along the shell of Davey's ear, making him squeak and then shiver. "Just for you, I'll be awfully easy to get under."
"Ugh," Davey laughed, whacking Freddy's chest. "That's disgusting."
"Only for you, baby," Freddy said, waggling his eyebrows. He only sounded like he was half-joking.
"I'm serious, though," Davey said softly. "I'm not going to be a jerk, okay? After history tomorrow, I'll break up with him. I just want to do it right."
"I guess," Freddy sighed, resting his forehead against Davey's. "I just... I mean, you finally want to kiss me and..."
"And that won't change," Davey said firmly. "Seriously, I've been trying to not want to since September."
"Really?" Freddy grinned. "September? You've been holding out on me?"
"Yes," Davey sniffed. "I had to be sure of your intentions. Now drive me home, somebody has been keeping me outside and my fingers are about to fall off."
"Right," Freddy said, hurrying around the passenger's side to open the car door for Davey with a ridiculous flourish. "After you."
And since that was really, really, cute, Davey gave him a quick kiss for his effort. And a longer one goodbye when they arrived.
A much longer one.
- - -
Freddy sped the way home that day, with all the windows open so Ella's rich voice could spill out from his stereo out to the world. It earned him a couple of quizzical looks from pedestrians, unaccustomed to anything that wasn't accompanied by a booming bass. He grinned and waved at them.
He felt a little as if he'd been smacked on the back of the head by a two-by-four. Less than a half hour ago, he had been kissing Davey. Less than an hour ago, Davey had been kissing him. In front of Joey, no less. Freddy knew it was A Bad Thing to antagonize his new boyfriend's brother, but that didn't stop him from savoring the utter look of astonishment when Davey kissed him. And the best part was the irony - if it wasn't for Joey, Davey probably wouldn't have decided to be with him. If Joey hadn't decided to pick a fight with him, if he hadn't decided to yell at him in the parking lot, Freddy never would have yelled... whatever sentimental, cringingly embarrassing but utterly true thing he had yelled that was responsible for the joy skating though his body.
Freddy drummed his fingertips excitedly on the steering wheel as he rolled into the driveway, humming as he crashed loudly into the kitchen, startling his grandparents. "Where have you been, Frederick?" Pops asked, looking faintly annoyed. He smoothed out the newspaper he was reading. "I thought you were going to help me in the shop after school. I called you."
"Yeah," Freddy said. He remembered his cell phone buzzing against the notch in Davey's hip a few times, but he had been too preoccupied by Davey's lips and mouth to notice, let alone answer. "My phone was off."
"Oh." Alex softened. "I wish it you had come around, I could've used the extra set of hands."
"Sorry," Freddy said happily, slipping his knapsack off his shoulders onto the coffee table. "I got tied up."
"I wish you would've called, then." Pops sighed. "I let two of my part-timers go home early. Can you come in tomorrow afternoon, then?"
"I don't know, Pops." Davey would be free the entire night on Friday, and that was too golden of an opportunity to pass on. "Maybe."
"It's just some tables that need to have legs cut and varnished," Pops frowned. "Won't take long at all."
"What's all this?" Regina came out of the back room, holding a basket of newly cleaned corn ears. "Freddy, help your grandfather out, won't you?"
"I will," Freddy said, making a beeline for the kitchen. "I was just busy after school."
"What on earth were you doing?" Regina frowned and set the ears on the counter. "You didn't have work or track practice today."
"I had to take my boyfriend home," Freddy shrugged. "You know, Davey from the cafe? I gave him a ride." He grabbed a pear from Regina's always fresh fruit basket and bit into it. "What's for dinner?" After about a month of silence after Freddy moved in with his grandparents, after his parents' death, Regina and Alex figured out that feelings weren't something Freddy ever wanted to talk about. But it was still funny to see Regina stuff her first desire to yell and delight and possibly squeeze Freddy to death under a cool nod.
"Is that so?" Her eyes twinkled. "Well, that's nice, Freddy. Isn't that nice, Alex?"
"Very nice," Pops' eyes were equally proud over his newspaper. "Excellent. That Davey boy is a nice one."
"We'll have to have him over for dinner sometime," Regina said, allowing a smidgen of excitement to creep into her voice. "Again, I mean."
"Very nice," Pops repeated. "Just make sure to, ah, call next time, won't you?"
"Sure thing, Pops." Freddy finished his pear and tossed the core into the trashcan neatly.
- - -
Davey should have had a really, really great night. He finished his homework early, Freddy was his boyfriend, and Fabrizio has managed to sneak him the last of the extremely popular cheesecake squares. "Special gift," he had whispered, winking and passing it to Davey covered up in napkins. It was currently stashed safely in Davey's room, because his mom had expressly forbid Fabrizio from preferential treatment to people he liked, especially on blueberry cheesecake squares, since they were a top seller. And if she knew... well, she'd probably just yell at Davey for enabling. And Davey really, really needed her advice at the moment.
"...and so I really like Freddy," Davey babbled to his mother, pacing in circles while she bemusedly stirred the beef stew. "But I have no way how to break up with Kyle, even though I wasn't dating Kyle, but he thinks I was, and he's going to be mad at me, and..."
"Davey," his mother said gently, "what would you like me to tell you?"
"How to break up with Kyle without being a jerk!" Davey yelled. "God, Mom, weren't you listening?"
"I think the problem was that I was listening," his mother said, smiling under Davey's attempt at a glare that probably looked more pitiful than intimidating. "Sweetheart," she said soothingly, turning the stew down to simmer. "There's no nice way to break up with someone, especially when it's leaving them for someone else."
"But I'm... I'm not... Oh Christ," Davey wailed, sitting down heavily at his mother's desk/kitchen table. "Mom, can't you break up with him for me?"
"No," his mother said, kissing his forehead. "The moral of this story is, you can't be nice all the time, especially when you're trying to do what's right. Now grow that spine I know you have."
So, taking his mother's advice, Davey had manned up and pulled Kyle aside after class, explaining as honestly as he could what happened, but leaving out the fact that he made out with Freddy in the parking lot for about an hour. As far as Kyle needed to know, they shook hands and gazed longingly into each other's eyes. It still didn't stop Kyle from bursting into girly tears, his face turning red and splochy.
"I-I-I knew there was something with that Kennedy!" he sobbed, while Davey pat his shoulder awkwardly "God, what is wrong with me?"
"It's not you!" Davey lied sincerely. "You're a great guy, Kyle, it's just... Freddy's more my type romantically. And you're a great friend, but I just don't feel like we... fit as boyfriends." There. At least he managed to end it truthfully.
"I just think he'll hurt you, Davey!" Kyle wailed. "He's such a slut."
"Yeah," Davey said. "That's why I really tried to, you know, look around first. But I need to just... take the chance, you know?"
Kyle nodded tearfully, wrapping his arms around Davey. "I'll always be there for you," he sniffled into Davey's shoulder. "When that... jerk... double-crosses you."
"Thanks Kyle, that means a lot," Davey said uncomfortably, patting Kyle on the back until he could guiltlessly run away to Freddy's locker and groan loudly into his chest.
"Break up with Kyle?" Freddy asked sympathetically wrapping his arms around Davey and squeezing. "I know how that is, it's why I switched to boys and one-night stands."
"Not helping your case right now," Davey moaned.
"Right, sorry," Freddy said, dipping down and pressing a quick kiss against Davey's lips. "That help me?"
"Little bit," Davey said, narrowing his eyes and fighting a grin. "Do that again and come over for dinner, and then I'll completely forget what you said."
"You're a hardcore bargain driver," Freddy said solemnly, tipping Davey's head back to give him a ridiculously lush, wet, movie-star kiss that left Davey gasping and gripping on Freddy's shoulders desperately for support. "I accept," Freddy said when he pulled away, lacing his fingers in between Davey's. "Now c'mon, we've still got band before our hot date."
"Suddenly, I hate music," Davey said sadly.
"Me too," Freddy sighed. "Me too."
- - -
Freddy showed up on Davey's doorstep barely on time. It had taken him longer for normal to get dressed since every clean t-shirt was either too tight or had some message written on the front that screamed 'I AM A DOUCHE.' It wasn't just his shirts. Almost all of his pants, his shoes, and his socks had the same invisible message. His hair had even looked wrong as he stared at it in the mirror. It was too glib, somehow, as if the curls were a sign of flightiness. He tried to fix it, but the only result was that it was now uncomfortably damp with water, as if he had just taken a shower.
It felt important that Davey's mom should instantly like him and Freddy didn't know and didn't care to examine why. Elizabeth's dad had very visibly disliked him, but they had gone on together nonetheless. For some reason, Davey was different. It wouldn't do if both Joey and Mrs. O'Brian hated him. Then it would be only Davey waving a Freddy flag, and how long could that last, especially with Davey as close as he was with his mom?
"Regina," he had asked casually, while she chopped fruit. "What would you do if I showed up on your doorstep?"
Her patience had begun to run thin after reassuring Freddy every half-hour, as he sauntered in, wearing something different, that he looked fine. "Run for the hills," she replied dryly, not even looking up. "Lock up all available girls and boys."
"I'm being serious," Freddy groaned. "I thought this was your thing. Providing grandmotherly advice to attractive but desperate grandsons."
"I don't know, Freddy." She threw her hands up in the air. "Flowers?"
"That's what I'm talking about," Freddy grinned. "What type? Sunflowers? Lilies? Would roses be too much? Daisies?"
The only reply from Regina was a very exasperated sigh.
In the end, Freddy chose a small bouquet of multicolored tulips, carefully arranged in bright tissue paper. But what seemed a great idea became silly as Freddy sped to Davey's house. When Freddy was finally inches away from Davey's doorbell, he began to feel stupid and cheesy. He contemplated throwing the bouquet into Davey's bushes. No, he thought, climbing the long flight of stairs to the apartment above the bakery. The right thing to do would be to whisk Davey away, figure out whether his mom liked flowers, steal a few kisses, and then decide what to do.
But what if Joey came to the door instead? Then he would really look like an ass. Texting was safer. Freddy slid his phone out of his back pocket and punched in Davey's number.
He was halfway through texting dont laff but does ur mom like flowers when the door opened abruptly. A pretty, brown-haired woman with her hair swept off her face in a low, messy knot stood in the doorway, looking surprised as she brushed her flyaway wispy bangs out of her face.
"Buh," Freddy said. "Uh- hi. I'm Freddy."
"Hello, Freddy." She smiled and stuck her hand out. "I saw your car pull up the driveway, so I figured it must be you."
"Yes," Freddy said, gaining composure as he shook her hand. He snapped his phone shut and put on his best suave voice. "It's very nice to meet you. These are for you."
"Oh, how sweet!" she exclaimed, stepping aside to let Freddy in. "Did Davey tell you tulips are my favorites?"
"Uhm, no?" Freddy said hopefully, looking down at her serenely smiling face. She was very pretty, he realized abruptly. She was probably one of the more beautiful moms he'd ever seen who wasn't famous, but he also was extremely biased, because she looked so much like Davey it was uncanny. She had the same sweet face with fine features, the same funny nose and huge brown eyes with long, curled lashes, the same stubborn, pointy chin, the same thick, straight honey-brown hair (streaked with gray, Freddy supposed that was Joey’s fault), and a thicker version of Davey's quirky little lips. But her face was rounder, her cheekbones much less sharp than both Davey and Joey's. And when she smiled she suddenly looked much more like Joey, who, on the rare occasions Freddy had seen him smile, smiled with his entire face and a wide-open mouth. Not like Davey, whose smiles were always so tiny and sweet and mostly in his eyes, like his happiness was a secret that only the worthy who were watching would get to know about. Freddy was already helplessly as in love with her as he was with her younger son, watching her bustle around the kitchen and put out the tulips on the small table in what looked like a combination of a huge living room and tiny dining room, separated by half of a wall. She was just like Davey had lovingly described her. She was just like what a mother, in his opinion, should be. And right then he decided that if he had to suck up to Joey to do it, he would make her think that he pretty much walked on water.
"Do you need any help with dinner?" He asked politely.
"What?" She said, looking up from where she was humming Joni Mitchell to some bubbling pot. "Oh, no, sweetheart, thank you. Davey's told me about your culinary skills. He's told me about almost everything, actually. So has Joey, for that matter, though it was more, well, shouting."
"Aw, crap," Freddy groaned, running a hand through his hair. "You must already hate me."
"Not at all, I've quite liked you for a bit," she said, smiling at him. "Now shoo, Davey's in his room waiting for you, and I sent Joey out on some errands to cool off before he was allowed back in the house."
Dutifully, Freddy fled the kitchen and into the living room/dining room conglomerate, where there were several closed doors to his left, and Davey could be hiding behind any of them. The first one had a small wreath of dried lavender hanging on it, so he guessed that was Mary's. The next one had a lock, so that was the bathroom. The third one and fourth ones were the problem. Both were plain and unadorned, but the first one was silent, and some strange, indie music was straining from under the door of the last one. Bingo, he thought, opening the door. It was the right choice. Inside was a small room, painted a dark seafoam green. There was a window opposite him where various knick-knacks and action figures were posed on the sill. To his right was a wall entirely filled with bookshelves, a dresser, and an old-fashioned radiator. And to his left, a small, messily-made bed with white sheets and a navy comforter underneath a huge map of the world, an electronic keyboard, and Davey on a slightly outdated desktop, earbuds stuffed in his ears while he air-pianoed along with whatever was playing loud enough to block out all other noise. His eyes were screwed closed and Freddy guessed he could have started performing magic tricks and Davey wouldn't have even noticed. He had clearly not worried about the date at all, he was still in his rumpled clothes from school that day - jeans, a t-shirt, and his favorite, ubiquitous zip-up hoodie with dark green and navy stripes, which, as far as Freddy was concerned, made him look like a sloppy extra from Whoville. And yet he still wanted to make out with Davey as much as humanly possible. It was potentially time to re-examine his kinks, he thought, tiptoeing behind Davey and leaning over him, resting his hands on his shoulders. Davey clearly had had no idea Freddy was in the house, let alone the room, because he let out an almighty yelp and jumped a foot in the air, wrenching out his earphones and looking around wild-eyed and panicked for a few seconds.
"Jesus Christ," he sighed, closing his eyes and resting a hand over his heart. "You scared the crap out of me. Warn a guy."
"I would have," Freddy said fairly, "but I don't think you would have heard me."
"True," Davey said, smiling as he leaned in to give Freddy a soft kiss. "Hi."
"Hi," Freddy sighed, wrapping his arms around Davey and kissing him again, feeling calm for the first time since he'd entered the house.
"You okay?" Davey asked quietly, looking up at him with wide, concerned eyes that made Freddy melt unreasonably fast into a big, soppy puddle of putty that Davey could have molded to do with whatever he liked.
"Yeah," Freddy said. "Just nervous about your mom."
"She already likes you," Davey grinned, leaning in to give Freddy a soft, re-assuring kiss. "Lydia and I have both been going on about you for so long she'd decided we should date before I had."
"Remind me to get Lydia flowers too," Freddy sighed gratefully. "Or maybe, like, an entire continent."
"Oh, I see," Davey scoffed. "I get nothing for talking you up."
"You get the Kennedy experience," Freddy purred into Davey's ear, manhandling him back to the bed, where he fell over with a giggling squeak, Freddy following on top of him. "Allow me to show you just how grateful - fuck, ow!" he yelped, as something under Davey's bed clawed viciously at his ankle.
"Mog," Davey said without explanation, wriggling out of Freddy's grasp and crawling under the bed, pulling out a huge, fat, seal gray cat with white socks and tail tip. Her bright green eyes were narrowed at Freddy, and she hissed at his face. "This is my cat. She hates everyone but me."
"Mog?" Freddy asked, deciding to go with the part of that sentence that he had the least problem with.
"She's really Mom's," Davey explained, sitting down and scratching the cat behind the ears. She began to purr grumpily, though she was still glaring at Freddy with pure hatred. "Dad got her for Mom's birthday when I was three. Mom named her Molly, but I could only say 'Moggie', and so the name sort of stuck. She thinks she's mine."
"Has she ever killed anyone?" Freddy asked, inching away from her death stare until she sniffed and turned her face to butt under Davey’s chin. He hated cats for this exact reason.
"She tried with Joey, once," Davey said blithely. The cat rose in Freddy's estimation. "He was in one of his tormenting me stages and she got protective until Joey started feeding her. Then she decided it was okay."
"I think she eats small children," Freddy said fearfully. Mog, as if hearing the accusation in his tone, turned her back to him, her tail swishing disdainfully as she shamelessly purred and butted her head again under Davey's chin, as if reminding Freddy who, exactly, he belonged to.
"Aw, he's just jealous," Davey cooed, scratching her. It was sort of cute, Freddy was man enough to admit, that Davey had a deranged ninja-cat eating out of the palm of his hand. It was also petrifying. And made Freddy kind of afraid of having the makeout session he'd planned for him, Davey, and Davey's ridiculously soft bed.
"I'm not just jealous," Freddy said, crossing his legs and moving closer to Davey tentatively. "She scratched my ankle. I'm bleeding."
"Did you swipe at Freddy?" Davey cooed again, scratching Mog between the ears. She purred and licked one fat paw happily.
"She's had her shots, hasn't she?" Freddy looked at his ankle warily, which was already scabbing over. "I'm not going to come down with cat herpes or tetanus something after this, will I?"
"She's fine," Davey sighed, shooting Freddy a look before he stood up, shooing Mog out the door gently. She turned around and gave Freddy a hard look. Freddy shivered. Satan's spawn, he thought.
"I think we were in the middle of something," Davey said after closing the door, flopping backwards onto his bed. "I think you were saying something about 'the Kennedy experience' and 'grateful' but I might have imagined that."
"Let me help you remember," Freddy said, in his suave voice that seemed only to send Davey into uncontrollable fits of laughter, the kind that came out in hopelessly high-pitched spasms.
"Don't laugh at me." Freddy said, staring at Davey petulantly. Davey wiped a tear from his eye, still giggling. "Fine, then." He covered Davey's mouth with his own and suddenly, Davey was most definitely not laughing.
By time they emerged again, Joey had returned and had on an expression eerily similar to the one Mog shot him before darting back under Davey’s bed, like he'd have liked to kill Freddy if he thought he could get away with it. He wasn’t even trying to hide his pout, sitting in an armchair at the far end of the living room with his arms crossed.
"Hello, Joey," Freddy said, following Davey onto the couch.
Joey nodded in response, refusing to look directly at Freddy. "Movie time. What are we watching?" he asked stiffly.
"The Princess Bride!" Davey suggested happily, sinking down beside the couch. Freddy threw a possessive arm around his shoulder."Freddy brought my tape back!" Both Freddy and Joey bit back their moans quickly, but Mary’s was audible even from the kitchen.
"We've seen that movie a hundred times," Joey said bluntly. "I don't want to watch it again."
"You have seen it a lot," his mom added more tactfully from the kitchen.
"I brought Ocean's Eleven," Freddy piped up. "It's in the backseat of my car. I could run out and get it."
"Well, all right," Joey said reluctantly.
"You'll love it, Davey," Freddy said, stroking softly at the hair curling around the nape of Davey's neck. "I swear. We can finish the Princess Bride some other time, okay? Alone," he whispered meaningfully into Davey's ear
"Okay," Davey said, pressing a quick kiss against Freddy's smile, and Freddy chose out of charity to ignore the retching noises Joey was making while he ran back out to his car.
It turned out that Davey did like the movie. "Bombs are cool," he said, resting his head on Freddy's shoulder. "They just have to have a point, you know? It has to be a smart movie."
"Fuck that shit," Joey said, and Freddy made an agreeing noise. Joey even shot him a tiny, almost-nice look from his armchair, where Mog had slunk back out and, upon being rejected by Davey, gone and sat in Joey's lap with the air of trying to make Davey jealous, which didn't seem to be working. But Joey seemed so genuinely delighted that she was paying attention to him that he was lavishing her with affection like she was a queen and her eyes were slitted in pleasure, so Freddy considered it a universal win. What no one could agree on, however, was who was the coolest of the eleven.
"Danny is the mastermind behind the heist," Joey said decidedly. "And besides, he caught a charge."
"So?" Freddy frowned.
"So while he was doing hard time in prison, Rusty was running some lame poker class." Joey leaned back and smirked. "Danny is obviously cooler."
"Rusty is the man." Freddy shook his head. "He had to help Danny when he got out of prison, because Danny sucked."
"What about -" Davey started, but both Freddy and Joey shushed him. What had turned into a simple conversation over who was the better heist planner was fast turning into an argument, accompanied by the clangs in the kitchen as Davey's mom fixed dinner.
"Rusty would have never had the balls to plan a heist like that." Joey shook his head vehemently. "Never."
"Yeah, but Danny couldn't have finished it by himself. He let his emotions get in the way." Freddy snorted.
"Yeah," Joey said. "Because he was nailing Julia Roberts. Another reason why Danny is better than Rusty. Who's he nailing? His right hand, that's who."
Freddy rolled his eyes. "Julia Roberts isn't that hot, okay. And Rusty doesn't need a woman. He's Brad Pitt. He's hot enough by himself."
"Whatever." Joey rolled his eyes, his anger overtaking his awareness of the decidedly gay turn the conversation was taking. "George Clooney is classy. It's just like you, Kennedy, to have no taste at all."
"Joey." Mary called out sharply from the kitchen. "Stop it."
"Hey," Freddy said, mock-affronted. "I think I have great taste." Davey beamed up at him
"I like Linus," Davey piped up. "He saved the day."
Joey and Freddy stared at Davey silently. Freddy was trying to figure out how to voice his opinion and still get Davey to make out with him when Joey cut in. "That's just retarded, Davey," he said flatly.
"Joey, be nice," his mother called out from the kitchen, exasperated. "Boys, you can sit down now. Dinner's ready."
"I'm just saying," Freddy said as they made their way to the small table, "who would you date, Rusty or Danny?"
"I wouldn't date either of them," Joey said, looking disgusted. "I'd date Julia Roberts. Duh."
"I'd date Linus," Davey added again.
"Davey, you're awesome, but - Linus?" Freddy raised one eyebrow. "Really?"
"One," Davey said, ticking off his fingers "Matt Damon is cute."
"He looks constipated," Joey pointed out. "And his forehead is out of control."
"Have to go with Joey on this one," Freddy said reluctantly.
"I think he's cute," Davey glared. "And as I was saying, two, he's a thief with a conscience, and three, Rusty and Danny are totally dating each other, and I don't want to break that up."
"Oh, no," Joey groaned, sitting down and grabbing the salad while Mary put out the chicken parmesan. "Davey, you can't put gay in every movie we watch."
"Wow," Freddy said, wide-eyed. "You're right. They're totally doing it."
"That's what I'm saying!" Davey exclaimed, serving Freddy a generous helping of chicken on top of his pasta, like he knew Freddy would probably go in for thirds. Davey, Freddy thought, was probably the greatest boyfriend ever.
"Davey does this for every movie," Mary said, taking the salad from Joey. "He always finds some sort of gay subtext and ruins it for Joey."
"Like how the real love story in the Princess Bride is the Spanish guy and the giant?" Freddy asked.
"Oh god," Joey groaned, his mouth full of pasta. "No, I have seen this movie a billion times because Davey made me, okay, neither of them is the princess, or the bride."
"Aww, that's actually really cute," Davey sighed dreamily, twirling his pasta on his fork. "I mean, they stick together through thick and thin and play rhyming games..."
"Much cuter than Wesley and Buttercup," Freddy added.
"You just have a vendetta," Davey began reproachfully, but Mary cut him off.
"New conversation," She said hastily, sending a quelling glance in Joey's direction when he started to narrow his eyes and twirl his knife meaningfully. "Davey tells me you play trumpet, Freddy?"
"Yeah," Freddy said, his eyes lighting up. "It's... yeah. I've been playing forever, ever since I was ten, I always wanted to be just like Chet Baker, you know..."
"Who?" Joey asked.
"Famous trumpet player," Davey said quickly, before Freddy could launch into a monologue that probably would cause Joey to stab him. Freddy still made a miffed expression at Davey, who looked utterly unrepentant.
"Anyways," he said, "it's, I don't know. It's my thing. I really, really like it."
"Just like Davey, then," Mary said, her expression going soft. "He's been playing piano what, nine years?" Davey nodded through a mouthful of chicken.
"How'd he start?" Freddy asked. He knew how Davey started clarinet - the same way he started trumpet - because the school gave a year of classes on certain instruments in fifth grade, and it just stuck because Davey liked music.
"It was after Dad died," Davey said when he swallowed. "I asked if I could, and mom thought it'd be good for me, you know, to have something to keep busy with. That's when Joey started violin too - ow! Joey, what the hell?"
"Joey plays violin?" Freddy asked, delighted.
"He's very good," Davey said. "I don't know why he's so secretive about it."
"Me either," Freddy grinned. "After all, it's the manliest instrument I can think of..."
"It looks good on my college resume," Joey said defensively. And then, when Freddy and Davey looked like they were on the verge of bursting into laughter, "Mom...."
"Davey," his mother said severely, taking a sip of wine, "be quiet, there are things I could tell Freddy about you that you wouldn't like either."
"Yeah," Joey said, looking far too pleased with himself, "like your giant crush on Captain Planet."
"You had a crush on Captain Planet?" Freddy asked, turning to Davey with barely-contained glee.
"I still think they're making this up," Davey protested loudly, his ears going bright pink.
"When Davey was two and a half," Mary explained, "there was a week where all he wanted to wear was his red footie pajamas and the yellow dishwashing gloves because he wanted to look like Captain Planet, and when Peter asked him why, he said it was because they were getting married."
"But no photographic proof exists," Davey accused, pointing his fork at his mother.
"I think it's cute," Freddy said sweetly, and was rewarded by a huge smile from Davey.
"Really?" He asked bashfully, pushing the last few bites of chicken on his plate.
"Of course," Freddy said, taking his hand under the table and kissing his cheek, feeling it heat up delightfully under his lips. Davey was bright red and pleased-looking when he pulled away. "Now what I'd like to know," he went on, "is if you really wanted the blue mullet to match."
Davey's eyes narrowed.
"Don't worry," Freddy continued blithely, "I mean, he is our hero, taking pollution down to zero."
"I hate you all," Davey said, stabbing the remains of his chicken, but a smile was playing at the corner of his mouth, and he didn't let go of Freddy's hand under the table either.
"Remember, Davey," Freddy said, his eyes wide. "You, too, can be a Planeteer, as long as you remember that looting and polluting is not the way."
"The planet," Joey intoned solemnly, "is yours."
"More chicken?" Mary asked, her smile wide and approving.
- - -
"Cradle me," Davey sang quietly along to the music, spraying globs of dough from the mixing bowl in the sink. "I'll cradle you."
"And then they all died." Lydia's lip curled up in disgust. "So I by then, I was like, okay, worst movie ever, and then -"
"I'll win your heart," Davey crooned, putting the clean bowl to dry with a jaunty clang. "With a woop-a-woo -"
"Davey." Lydia crossed her arms. "You aren't paying attention. And we've been listening to this song all morning."
"Have we?" Davey looked up, surprised.
"Yes." Lydia groaned. "Every time it finishes you press repeat. Don't think I haven't noticed."
"Well," Davey said defensively, "I like this song." He began to wipe up the dripping water around the counters
"Me too," Lydia's eyes followed Davey around the room. "And there's other stuff on this CD I like equally. What's up with you?"
"What do you mean by that?" Davey frowned.
Lydia shrugged. "I don't know. It just seems like you're acting kind of - hey, what's that?" Her eyes narrowed.
"What's what?" Davey asked, blinking innocently.
"That." Lydia hopped off the counter and yanked the edge of Davey's t-shirt down, exposing a dime-sized purple fleck.
"Oh," Davey said, trying to catch a glimpse. Freddy must have put it there after dinner. A very gentlemanly offer to walk Freddy to his car turned immediately into a very gentlemanly, almost chaste kiss goodnight. But Freddy had spent all night being charming and funny and just nice, so Davey couldn't resist making things a bit more interesting; even if his mother was patiently waiting for him to come back in. He rubbed his neck self-consciously. "Well, he does bite."
"Huh," Lydia murmured. "I didn't think that what's-his-name had it in him."
"Kyle?" Davey grinned slowly. He knew that Lydia knew his name. Kyle had come around to the cafe a few times, and while Lydia had been very polite, it was clear that he wasn't the type of guy Lydia had in mind for Davey to be not-sensible with.
Lydia touched it lightly. "Yeah, him. That's a good one," She let him go, pulling his collar up over his neck. "You better put some ice on that later." She patted him in a congratulatory manner on his back. "Good for you, Davey."
"Thanks." Davey tucked his collar carefully around it.
"So," Lydia said casually. "You and Kyle, is that going well?"
"We broke up," Davey said cheerily, forgetting to add a hint of remorse to his voice. "It wasn't working out." Lydia looked silently stunned while Davey made his way back out front to help Sarah with the line, Lydia making confused noises in the kitchen.
"Would you like a frequent customer card?" Sarah was saying politely to Freddy, who was gnawing on his lower lip in concentration, hunched over the counter. He straightened when he saw Davey come out of the back, wiping his hands on a small towel.
"Um," Freddy was craning his neck around to look behind her. "Sure, why not?"
"Hey," Davey said motioning Freddy out of line so Sarah could help the next person. "I thought you had to work today." Freddy grinned, tilting Davey's head up and kissing him lightly. Sarah politely pretended not to notice.
"I thought I'd drop by before." Freddy smiled. He looked even nicer when he smiled, Davey thought, covering one of Freddy's dry hands with his damp one. "Grab a snack for myself. And Dan, because if I don't he'll just steal half of mine and complain constantly for the next hour. Don't tell me you're bummed out I'm not Captain Planet, or something."
"Nope," Davey said giving Freddy another light kiss before stepping back. "What do you want?" He opened his arms expansively. "You came to the right place. We are a veritable snack emporium."
Freddy glanced around. "I don't know. What do you recommend?"
Davey shrugged. "I like the ham and cheese croissants."
"Two of those, then."
Davey slipped two large, buttery croissants into a bag and handed it over to Freddy, who reached for his wallet. Davey shook his head. "These are on me."
Freddy grinned widely. "Thanks."
"I didn't say they were free. Right here," Davey tapped on the side of his cheek. "Those are fantastic pastries, so you better make it good."
"Of course," Freddy said, sliding his arms down Davey's shoulders and pulling them together. He kissed Davey slowly, sweetly until Lydia came out of the back room and tittered softly, startling Davey.
"Lydia," Freddy said, pulling away and saluting. Lydia nodded back.
"Sorry," Davey whispered against his lips. "Work calls,"
"Yeah," Freddy said regretfully, giving Davey one last kiss. "See you later?"
"Uh-huh," Davey said, letting go and leaning on his elbows to watch Freddy weave through the light crowd of people in line for their morning coffee, vaguely aware that he looked like a twelve year old girl and too happy to care.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Lydia blinked, "Did I just see what I thought I saw? What the hell was that?"
"I thought it over," Davey stood up straight. "And I found out I hadn't made the best choice at all." He looked sheepish. "So, yeah."
Lydia held out her hands for a hug, but the second Davey reached for her, she deftly grabbed his neck and gave him a very affectionate noogie. "I," she said, over Davey's squeals, "am so proud of you."
"Mercy!" Davey yelped. "Mercy! Less violent pride! Ow!"
- - -
It quickly became crystal clear to Freddy that Davey had never in his entire life been in a relationship before, and not knowing what to do was freaking him out. But what was freaking him out even more was that Freddy did know how everything worked.
"Hi," Davey said nervously when he called Freddy on Sunday. "Do you not want to talk? We don't have to talk. In fact, sorry, I shouldn't have called."
"Davey," Freddy said soothingly, "you can call me. You're my boyfriend."
"But I just saw you yesterday!" Davey exclaimed. He sounded like he might be pacing. "I don't know. Maybe you need, like, space."
"If I need space, how about I tell you?" Freddy asked practically. "Because, you know, we're dudes, and dudes actually say things instead of doing that weird secret signal shit girls do."
"I guess," Davey said skeptically. "Anyways, I was calling because I had... questions."
"Questions?"
"I think we need to make some guidelines," Davey said. "Like, are we kissing in public? More than we already have? Do you find holding hands acceptable? Or is it girly? What about nicknames? Are we eating lunch together? Am I good at kissing or are you just humoring me? Is there stuff you like I'm not doing? Is there stuff that you don't like that I am? What's your schedule? When's the latest I can call you by? Are you one of those people who hates talking on the phone? Do..."
"Davey," Freddy soothed, trying to hold back his laughter. "Davey, it's okay."
"No it's not," Davey said miserably. "I always thought this was just stuff you just figured out slowly, but I feel like, like you already have it figured out and I don't know anything, and this is way more important that I thought it would be, and..."
"Davey," Freddy repeated softly, feeling his insides go treacherously mushy. "You just do what feels right, and I bet its right. You're way smarter than me."
"Smarter than I," Davey corrected absently. "Well, actually, it's sort of a gray area. Because it would be 'you're smarter than I am', but I think it's different when you don’t have the verb after? I don't know."
"See?" Freddy said. "I don't even get that shit. Just keep doing whatever you've been doing because it's amazing."
"Really?" Davey asked brightly. "And the kissing?"
"One of the best kissers I've ever kissed," Freddy assured him. Davey was actually probably due to graduate to the best, if he kept up his current trajectory. He just needed to refine his technique slightly. But if he said that Davey would probably dither some more about how to learn technique and who was better and that wasn't really helpful to anyone.
"Really?" Davey sounded like he was blushing though the phone, and Freddy wished that he didn't have to be at dinner in a half an hour, because what he wanted more than anything was to go make out with Davey right at that very moment.
"Really," he said.
And mostly, Davey seemed to take that to heart. He was still bashful and nervous touching Freddy, but he clearly wanted to. He just needed reassurance. And if anyone else needed this much validation, Freddy probably would have gone crazy. But this was Davey. And partially Freddy had a blind spot a mile wide where Davey was concerned, but partially because Davey so obviously was just trying to be the absolute best he could be for Freddy that it was impossible for him to do anything but find it adorable. And the best way he found to do that was positive re-enforcement. Namely, making out with Davey as much as humanly possible as a reward. Every time they did, Davey relaxed, like every time Freddy kissed him was just more proof that he was doing exactly the right thing.
So most afternoons, after GSA or track, Davey would put off homework for an hour or two just to come lay down with Freddy in his basement room. They'd usually start by talking about their days, but that tended to degenerate really quickly into making out and maybe having inane discussions about nothing at all. Today, it was their favorite season.
"Summer," Freddy was insisting while brushing a stubborn cowlick away from Davey's face. "Better sports. No school. Ice cream. Swimming."
"You just don't like to wear clothes," Davey sighed, somehow managing to burrow his face deeper into both Freddy's pillow and his hand.
"Clothes suck," Freddy agreed, leaning in to kiss Davey and move his hand down to rest on his hip instead.
"I like winter," Davey said, opening his eyes sleepily. "It's cuddly. And I like snow."
"But it's cold," Freddy complained.
"Wimp," Davey said, propping himself up and rolling over on top of Freddy before he leaned down for a long, slow kiss.
"But if we had no school," Freddy said when they broke apart. "We could do this. All day."
"But it would be hot out," Davey whined. "And eating and cooking is gross in the summer. Food tastes better when it's cold."
"You always taste good," Freddy said, nipping at Davey's chin. He liked that Davey walked around with tiny bruises, now. He always made sure that they were small, but they were there, if anyone was looking. He couldn't imagine why someone wouldn't be looking at Davey all the time.
"Cuddling's better when it's cold," Davey pointed out, smiling down at him.
"I do not cuddle," Freddy said grumpily. "This is prolonged kissing."
"Okay," Davey said indulgently, kissing behind Freddy's ear the way he liked, which had to be rewarded, naturally, with more kissing.
Davey was also having issues not telling his mother anything, which he had a minor breakdown over every day. "She's going to ask," he said fretfully, trying to pat down his hair, which was ridiculous, since his hair was always sticking up every which way, and usually changed direction on its own throughout the day anyways, like a bizarre weather pattern map.
"Your mom won't ask," Freddy assured him, dropping a kiss on the side of his neck over a healing hickey. Davey shivered a little under his lips.
"She'll give me a look," Davey said. "And I'll just have to tell her! And who's going to believe we just spent an hour and a half kissing and talking? She knows us."
"She's not Regina," Freddy pointed out. "She was young, once. Like, at a time they had electricity. She knows what dating and making out is like."
"Urk," Davey said, pulling a face. "That's not a thought I wanted to be thinking."
"I can make you think about something else," Freddy wheedled, inching his hands under Davey's t-shirt and pulling him back on the bed, kissing all of his tender spots until he was giggling and pliant again before Freddy even thought about driving him home to do work.
That was the nice thing about Davey, Freddy decided. He was a quick study at this whole boyfriend business.
- - -
Part 2