Auld Lang Shut the Fuck Up - PG
Title: Auld Lang Shut the Fuck Up
Rating: PG (swearing, talking about sex obliquely)
Pairing/Characters: Freddy/Davey, Joey, Mary
Notes: A wee holiday/New Year's snippet Louise and I wrote to make up for the fact that we're busy and we suck. So we tortured Joey. Poor, poor Joey.
Joey peeked through the keyhole. Kennedy was at the front door, dancing from foot to foot and holding a couple of wrapped packages. He was wearing a dark button down shirt and a black skinny tie which only further confirmed the fact that he was an enormous twat, since only enormous twats dressed like that, for no occasion at all. It wasn't even a gay thing as far as Joey could tell; Davey was pretty damn gay as far as gay went but didn't strut around all the time like he thought he was an extra in a GQ shoot.
Davey stuck his head around the corner, glancing at the doorway. There was a smudge of flour on his nose. "Who is it?"
"Jehovah's Witness," Joey lied through his teeth. Davey returned back to the kitchen as fast as he appeared, disappointed. Joey looked through the keyhole again, where Freddy was lifting his sleeve to look at his watch. Joey dropped his head against the cool door with a soft thud, debating heading back to his room -- there was too much noise in the kitchen to hear the doorbell, and even Kennedy might leave if no one came.
Or not. The doorbell started ringing again cheerfully, then insistently, and then Freddy's huge annoying eye appeared in the keyhole, magnified a billion times. "Is that you, Joey?" Kennedy hollered, banging the door with the flat of his hand. "Let me in!"
"What do you want?" Joey rolled his eyes, opening the door so fast that Freddy stumbled.
"I...um..." Kennedy looked baffled, probably because he figured the presents spoke for themselves. Little did he know. The presents were probably rigged to all blow up, except for Davey's, which would probably shoot out little hearts and turtledoves, or some gay shit.
Speaking of gay shit, Joey was convinced that Davey and Kennedy had some sort of psychic sex bond, because Kennedy had said two fucking words, one of which wasn't even a word but a noise, and Davey came hurtling down the long staircase to the doorway and shouted "Freddy!" like he hadn't seen Kennedy less than twenty-four hours ago, and launched himself at him, kissing Kennedy full on the mouth.
"Ugh," Joey said, grabbing the packages before Kennedy dropped them and shattered something by accident and sure enough the second Kennedy's hands were free there they were, one on his back and the other groping his ass like Joey wasn't standing right there. "Enough, guys."
Not that he expected it to make a difference, and it didn't. They were still kissing with the door open as Joey trudged up the stairs to put Kennedy's ticking time bombs under the tree, Kennedy saying "You taste good, you making cookies?" in what he probably thought was a whisper but was really more of a minor bellow.
"Mmm," more smacking noises, and a few really juicy groans.
"You look cute too, you know when you start making food it gets me all - "
"Boys!" Mary shouted, and Joey had never loved his mom more in his entire life, "You're letting in the cold air, and I need someone to come help me."
Davey reluctantly untangled himself from Kennedy, just enough so that he could poke an arm out and slam the door shut. But instead of heading up the stairs, he re-tangled himself in Kennedy's arms, glancing at Joey expectantly over his shoulders, as if Kennedy's twatish aura was somehow messing with his brain and making him forget his place.
"Fuck that," Joey scowled, crossing his arms. "I don't do cookies."
"Come on," Davey whined, while Kennedy kissed his ear or his hair or something else equally disgusting. Davey grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. "Just help Mom finish up."
Joey shuddered and glared stormily at the wall behind them. Davey being gay had been weird for about a tenth of a second, because Davey had always been gay, always way more interested in all of the Prince Eric scenes in The Little Mermaid instead of super hot Ariel, wearing only flimsy seashells over her tits. If that didn't tip him off, it was definitely confirmed without a doubt by Davey's almost unnatural interest in watching Captain Planet, with his gay hot pants and bared midriff, prance around and stop corporations from dumping oil in the oceans or whatever.
It wasn't the gay that was strange, it was the weird, unbearable truth that Davey was a closet freak for cheesy, promiscuous douches with big dumbo ears.
"No." Joey said flatly. "I'm not doing girl work just so you can... be a slut."
"I can help," Kennedy interjected happily, face popping up from the crook of Davey's neck where he was nuzzling like a retarded cat. "I like cookies."
Davey glared at Joey preemptively for a comment that never came. It was a well known fact that Kennedy burned or irrecoverably ruined any food object requiring directions more complicated than 'put in microwave' or 'add hot water, wait one minute'. Joey smirked, but kept silent; best let Davey break the news himself that no one wanted Kennedy within ten feet of any kitchen, anywhere. Kennedy happily pushed up his sleeves, staring at them both obliviously.
"We can both help," Davey said diplomatically, pecking Kennedy on the lips and running his hands over his forearms. "Okay? We'll finish them together."
"Wait," Kennedy picked up Davey's hands and sandwiched them in between his own, rubbing them. "Your hands are cold."
Joey gagged.
"They're always cold," Davey said in that soft, goopy tone he always used with Kennedy, though Joey supposed that Kennedy would need to be spoken to like he was mentally retarded. "C'mon, they'll warm up from baking."
"Or," Kennedy leaned close, "I could warm them up by..."
"Oh, fucking Christ," Joey howled, "I am going to barf all over you."
"Okay, okay," Davey said, rolling his eyes and pulling Kennedy up the stairs. Clearly, Joey had been away from home too long. The two of them would have to be re-trained.
- - -
Joey had not anticipated the mistletoe.
Well, he had known it was there, and he'd expected to have to do some strategic coughing, like last year, when Davey would blush and Kennedy would try to give Joey an 'aw shucks' grin, but clearly Kennedy being away at college had melted Davey's brain, because now he could cough and cough and cough like he was some old-timey heroine dying of the croup or whatever, and the two of them would just keep sucking face.
It wasn't even contained to the one mistletoe spot so Joey could avoid them, it was all over, the couch, the dining room, the cafe (it was more gooey eyes and constant little pecks in the cafe, but that was a whole different brand of nauseating), and worst of all on his favorite chair.
There were two chairs, squashy, golden corduroy recliners in the living room. One was strictly Mary's (or Mog's), not to be stained or worn or covered in mud. The other was Joey's throne most of the time. Occasionally Davey asked for it or took it when Joey was sprawled out on the couch, and Joey didn't make him move if he got it first, but when it got down to it, normally it was Joey's.
Until Kennedy.
Kennedy had always tried to take Joey's chair, but now he was exploiting the fact that Davey was too busy being all handsy that he forgot to tell Kennedy off for sitting in Joey's spot. Joey came home all the time now to a smug Kennedy with a lap full of Davey, leaning in close and looking like a Precious Moments card had vomited in his living room.
"Right," Joey said, turning on his heel to go to his room, or the kitchen, or the bathroom; anywhere where he wouldn't have to watch Davey and Freddy get all Brokeback all over his favorite chair. Unfortunately, Joey bumped right into Mary, who managed quite impressively to keep a laden tray of cookies and champagne flutes filled with sparkling cider upright.
"Sit down Joey, honestly," Mary set the tray down on the coffee table huffily, returning to the kitchen to wash her floury hands.
Joey turned back to Davey and Kennedy, who were blowing disgusting raspberries on each other's necks and laughing completely unselfconsciously. He shuddered, raising a foot and jabbing Kennedy in the knee with it sharply. "You're in my chair."
"We're in your chair," Kennedy corrected with a grin. He covered Davey's hand with his, where it was affectionately tangled in the collar of his shirt.
"So, get out of it," Joey hissed, kicking Kennedy s in the ankle. "Davey," he pleaded, knowing that he was whining but not caring. "Make him get out of my chair."
"Can't you sit somewhere else?" Davey lifted his head, flushed. "We're kind of -"
"No, I cannot sit somewhere else," Joey's voice boomed. "Why would say that? Better yet, why would you even think - "
"It's okay," Kennedy interrupted, turning Davey's chin to face him. "Couch. More room."
Davey grinned, sprang to his feet and tugged on Freddy's tie again, while Joey groaned and kicked Kennedy one more time, for good measure. "That's not what I meant at all."
"You sure you want to move, Freddy?" Davey vindictively asked, eyes fixed around Kennedy's forehead.
"Anywhere you want to go is fine with me," Kennedy grinned stupidly. "I like you. I like your furniture. It's so much better than the bricks they call chairs in my dorm."
Joey choked. Davey looked at him under lowered lashes, eyes filled with an almost comical amount of sorrow. "Really?"
Kennedy nodded gravely. "It's terrible, sometimes. It's good to be home."
Freddy and Davey's newest stupid habit involved them acting all the time as if Freddy, instead of going off to college, was actually a soldier on a rare visit home after a long, bloody series of campaigns. It was mainly stupid for two reasons; because Freddy wasn't going to war but off to college a short train ride away, and because Joey had it on good authority that Freddy spent a large amount of that time partying with his weird European roommate and taking obnoxious drunk pictures of himself that popped up on Facebook the next day.
"Oh god," Joey groaned, trying his best to focus on the television and block them out.
"My poor baby," Davey cooed. To his credit it was laced with a heavy dose of sarcasm, but he was cooing and stroking Kennedy's hair. "How did you ever survive?"
"I dunno," Kennedy said, grinning big and dirty. "That, less time naked with you..."
"I hate Christmas!" Joey shouted, stomping to his room and slamming the door on Davey and his ugly, retarded boyfriend laughing like morons.
- - -
Okay, maybe "retarded" was an unfair estimate. Kennedy was clearly not retarded. You can't be retarded and keep up a pointed attack on someone's sanity for as long as Kennedy had. And Kennedy was getting strategic. He and Davey usually spent a lot of time over in his den of iniquity, probably having sex at disgusting volumes, but Kennedy started giving up sex voluntarily to stake out the chair, whining at Davey to get him food or sit in his lap. Davey had begun to slowly lose patience with Kennedy's game by New Year's Eve, at least. Kennedy came over at some weird hour before Davey was awake and instead of crawling in his bed, staked out the chair and beamed at everyone.
"Regina and Pops fall asleep early," he explained to Davey, who actually looked mildly annoyed at waking up to Freddy eating a box of Lucky Charms in the chair.
"I don't think they fall asleep this early," Davey grumbled, going to make toast with peanut butter. Joey just shoveled granola in his mouth and watched.
"Baby," Kennedy cooed, reclining the chair and making huge eyes at Davey, "I got here so early, do I at least get a cold glass of milk and a kiss good morning?"
"If I get you a big glass of milk you'll have to pee faster," Davey said.
"Have I ever told you you're both clever and beautiful?" Kennedy asked, batting his lashes.
"Have I ever told you you're a moron?" Davey shot back.
"Not lately," Kennedy looked up happily at Davey, as if he were about to pay him a great compliment.
"You're a moron," Davey replied grumpily, reaching over and tweaking Kennedy's nose. "Of the highest degree."
Kennedy mistook it for an affectionate gesture, and smooshed up his lips until they grazed the bottom of Davey's fingers. "Don't touch me," Davey snapped, immediately snatching them way as if they had been burned. He stomped over to the side of the couch farthest away from the recliner.
Way to go, Davey! Joey nodded approvingly; crunching on his granola and trying to simultaneously to ignore Kennedy's resulting hissy fit and edge up the volume on the television in the resulting tense silence.
"Aw, babe," Kennedy was pleading, stretching an arm towards Davey but not budging an inch from the chair. "Don't be like that."
"Be like what?" Davey frowned. "Tired? That's your fault, in case you forgot."
"Cranky." Kennedy's arm dropped, and the stupid puppy dog face he usually wore at such moments abruptly melted to one of utter misery. Joey left the room to go re-fill his cereal bowl.
"You don't care about my feelings," Davey was saying when Joey returned, because Davey had a vagina. "You never do. The only thing you care about is sitting in that stupid chair."
"I do so care about your feelings," Kennedy argued. "Why do you think I'm always over here? Huh?"
"Because you like being insufferable and ordering me around all the time," Davey threw his hands in the air. "You won't even let me come over to the basement any more, because you'd rather be here bothering everyone."
Joey squashed his hands over his ears as hard as he could, because while listening to Davey and Freddy make wet smacking noises in the corner of the room was pretty bad, listening to his brother whine about not getting any was much, much worse.
"No I wouldn't," Kennedy got up from the chair, which made Joey nearly choke on his cereal. Kennedy was leaving the chair? God, Davey was powerful. He quietly tiptoed over and peeked around the doorframe, watching Kennedy kneal so he was face-to-face with a grumpy, sprawled-out Davey on the couch, stroking through his hair. Davey still looked grumpy, but like he was perhaps considering forgiveness, like Mog did after she was fed. "I'm sorry, Davey," Kennedy was whispering in a voice that Joey had never heard him use before. It was... nice. And fond. And weird, weird shit like that. "You know I'm just having some fun."
"You take it too far sometimes," Davey whispered back, but he looked like he was being swayed. Gently, Kennedy crawled onto the couch and insinuated himself behind Davey, throwing an arm around his back and kissing his tense shoulders through his sleep sweatshirt. Joey looked away before he went blind.
"I know," Kennedy said, voice a little less gentle and a little louder and more sexually abrasive again. "but we can do it right here to make up for it."
"I'm not doing it on the couch," Davey sighed, and then murmured something indistinct before the soft sucking noises started up again. Joey risked a glance in. Okay, so they weren't having sex, but they were necking, and doing it for the long haul so it wouldn't ever lead to sex, the kind of kissing that was lame enough that Joey hadn't thought about doing it in years, with all the goopy hand-holding and hair-stroking and no tongues at all. It would almost be better if they were thrusting their tongues everywhere and grinding on each other. It would be less saccharine and nauseating, anyway. There was no way the chair was worth sitting through what would be several hours until his mom started demanding that they help with New Year's food. With a sigh, Joey dumped the dregs of his milk in the kitchen sink before shutting himself back in his room, where Mog was waiting on his bed, highly grumpy and yowling for attention.
"Fucking Kennedy," he said. "Master fucking strategist in chair wars."
"Mow," Mog agreed darkly, swishing her tail.
- - -
Joey actually managed to hold out in his room for some time. When it came time to help Mary in the kitchen, she wisely limited him to running out to the supermarket picking up ingredients while Davey and Kennedy helped out. But by the time he got back, Kennedy had managed to spill flour everywhere, upset a bottle of olive oil, and start a small, but uncontained fire. Mary pushed them both out to the living to watch retrospective specials on VH1 and set the table, yelling at Joey to help her finish up.
Which was only a little disagreeable, but not terrible. Joey only really, really, hated cooking when it was the way Davey did it, helping out with the baking in his blue apron while he and Lydia sang and bopped along to whatever artsy mixtape they were playing that week. Otherwise it was just really, really boring, series of mind-numbingly banal steps that resulted in food at the end.
"That's good," she nodded, smoothing her hair off of her forehead as Joey finished sharpening Mary's great big meat cleaver. "You can call the boys in the dining room. Don't give me that look -- " she frowned. Joey smoothed his features back into impassivity. "Just do it, please."
Although it looked early as if Kennedy had clearly capitulated to Davey's whining, Kennedy won out in the end. Davey was squashed next to him in the chair, legs tangled up with Kennedy's. He was flipping through an old tv guide issue while Kennedy rested his chin on his shoulder, hands around Davey's midsection, reading along. Davey looked as if he hadn't been at Kennedy's throat because of the same damn chair just that morning; proving for once and for all that he was spineless and always willing to be completely bitched out, no matter what the occasion or who was doing it.
Joey shot him a disappointed look that he hoped conveyed as much, but Davey only shrugged his shoulders and turned a page lazily.
"It's time to eat," Joey glared at Kennedy. "You can get out of my chair, now."
Davey looked up at him, blinking and adjusting his eyes. "Are we eating at the table?" He asked.
"No!" Mary shouted from the kitchen. "Nothing is getting on that tablecloth, I need it for tomorrow."
"Okay," Davey said, and then turned to Freddy. "Want me to get you a plate?"
"Mhm!" Freddy beamed. "With extra -"
"Mashed potatoes and gravy, and enough of it to feed eight people, I know," Davey laughed, leaning up for a brief kiss. "You owe me."
"I'll remember that," Kennedy growled, waggling his eyebrows and smacking Davey on the ass when he got up.
"Davey," Joey said while they loaded up their plates. "Don't you remember this morning? I mean, really. Fuck. You're like a fucking goldfish with this guy."
Davey rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Joey, I remember, but I made Freddy promise to give you the chair all of tomorrow, okay? Chill."
That stung. The chair wasn't Kennedy's to give to Joey, it was Joey's to dole out to the worthy. How dare Kennedy act like he owned it and then use it as leverage to get Davey to do his bidding?
"I don't want it," Joey sulked.
"Really? Because I can tell Freddy you surrender and we won't clear out in the afternoon to have lots of s-"
"Augh!" Joey clapped his hands over his ears and ignored Davey's knowing smirk. Little ass. Clearly spending too much time with Kennedy. "No! The chair is mine tomorrow! All mine!"
"You're welcome," Davey said, like he'd performed some great big fucking favor, grabbing a bottle of iced tea and a beer and sticking them under his arm before making his way back into the living room.
"Mom," Joey whined the second Davey was gone, trying to appeal to her maternal instincts and the fact that she loved him more.
"What, Joey?" She asked distractedly, taking a forkful of stringbeans before going to stir one of the four pots she had going at once.
"Make Davey stop being so... so... how does he get out of helping you tomorrow anyway?"
"He doesn't, he's helping me all morning, and then he's going over to Freddy's for a bit. Stop whining and hand me the salt."
"But he and Kennedy are being obnoxious on purpose," Joey said in a tone that was manly, not whiny at all. "Look at them!" He made a grand waving gesture to them squashed together in the chair, giggling and stealing bits off of each other's plates while they made googly eyes at each other.
Mary looked up and stopped cooking for a moment, clasping her hands while Joey watched her, horrified. "That's sweet."
Joey closed his eyes and shook his head. "It is not sweet, it is disgusting and they've been at it all day."
"Freddy's been gone for a long time," Mary shrugged, tasting a sauce and thinking it over with pursed lips. "And Davey's been busy. This holiday season has been the longest stretch of time I've seen Davey relaxed and away from his phone. They miss each other."
"And I miss being able to sit out in the living room without having to watch them go at it all the time. I've been away from home a long time too. I have rights." Joey replied petulantly.
"You'll get over it," Mary waved a hand dismissively, pulling a few fresh basil leaves off of a much abused plant on the counter. "I think it's adorable." Kennedy was feeding Davey as if he was four, holding forkfuls of vegetables up to his lips. Only Davey wasn't prone to piggishly shoveling food in his mouth like Kennedy was, and all of the forkfuls were ridiculously large; to the point where Davey had to steady Kennedy's wrist and open his mouth wide to eat. Kennedy smirked and made some sort of presumably dirty joke which Davey laughed at, and then they were at it again --
"I can't do this any more," Joey rested his head on the counter longsufferingly, soaking up its comforting coolness. "I'm going to kill one of them. Or both. Probably both."
"Stop being so dramatic," Mary swatted his head with an oven mitten. "It's not like they've been much different over the last few years."
"Except for the fact that they are doing it spite me," Joey spat, looking over to where Kennedy's fingers were inching up Davey's shirt. "I may never sit in that chair again."
"This isn't some sort of sibling thing, is it?" Mary looked at him, amused, before setting a calming hand on Joey's shoulder. "Just because Davey's been hanging out with his new friend doesn't mean he loves you any less, you know."
"Everyone in this house is insane," Joey muttered, stomping away.
- - -
Davey had somehow conned everyone into watching Anderson Cooper and Kathy Griffin on CNN, which was the gayest fucking thing ever, but nothing else was on. Besides, Mary kept calling them in to give her a hand or chop something, so it wasn't like they wanted to watch something they were really invested in anyway. Joey got the allure of watching this bullshit for Freddy and Davey, because even he could tell that Anderson Cooper was kind of foxy, but that Kathy Griffin chick was shrill as hell and not hot at all. Though, even Joey could admit, trying to get Anderson Cooper to admit he was gay was always amusing television.
It apparently wasn't interesting enough to keep Kennedy up, though, because he nodded off around ten, breathing a little more heavily through his mouth. He got restless every time Davey slipped out (slowly, so as not to wake him) to go to the bathroom or help their mom, Kennedy would grumble and thrash, spreading his limbs out in search of something until Davey crawled back into the chair, then he clung to him like a small child would a teddy, mashing his cheek against the top of Davey's head.
"What is he, the world's most co-dependent sleeper?" Joey asked.
"Shhh," Davey shushed.
"Maybe you should wake him, hon," Mary said, coming in and wiping her hands. "It's almost midnight."
"Oh, God, no," Joey groaned. "Let him sleep. Please, let him sleep."
"C'mon Freddy," Davey started flicking one of Kennedy's oversized ears. "Up and at 'em."
"Nnn, fuck, awake, awake," Kennedy grumbled, opening his eyes and glaring. "That was fucking mean, dude."
"Sorry," Davey pressed a grossly apologetic kiss to he abused appendage. "We've got twenty seconds to midnight and I needed someone to kiss."
"What?" Joey yelped. "No. No. None of that. Banned in this house. No kissing."
"Mom will kiss you," Davey said stubbornly. "Just because you're slutty and single doesn't..."
"Four, three, boys, enough, one," Mary said, leaning over and giving all three of them (really, Joey thought, really) a kiss on the top of their head. "Happy New Year."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Joey grumbled, hugging her. "Love you too, Mom."
"Happy new year, babe," Joey vaguely heard Kennedy whisper before kissing his brother, at least not all gross and slobbery, and not in their stupid, considerately girly way. Just a nice, no-nonsense kiss. At first, anyway, until Davey grabbed a hold of Kennedy's shirt and started really going to town on him.
"Ick," Joey moaned to his mother. "Why are there so many holidays that encourage kissing all at once?"
"You can look forward to Valentine's Day," Mary suggested, smoothing his hair.
"I'm pouring acid in my eyes first," Joey declared.
"That's the holiday spirit," Mary agreed.
Rating: PG (swearing, talking about sex obliquely)
Pairing/Characters: Freddy/Davey, Joey, Mary
Notes: A wee holiday/New Year's snippet Louise and I wrote to make up for the fact that we're busy and we suck. So we tortured Joey. Poor, poor Joey.
Joey peeked through the keyhole. Kennedy was at the front door, dancing from foot to foot and holding a couple of wrapped packages. He was wearing a dark button down shirt and a black skinny tie which only further confirmed the fact that he was an enormous twat, since only enormous twats dressed like that, for no occasion at all. It wasn't even a gay thing as far as Joey could tell; Davey was pretty damn gay as far as gay went but didn't strut around all the time like he thought he was an extra in a GQ shoot.
Davey stuck his head around the corner, glancing at the doorway. There was a smudge of flour on his nose. "Who is it?"
"Jehovah's Witness," Joey lied through his teeth. Davey returned back to the kitchen as fast as he appeared, disappointed. Joey looked through the keyhole again, where Freddy was lifting his sleeve to look at his watch. Joey dropped his head against the cool door with a soft thud, debating heading back to his room -- there was too much noise in the kitchen to hear the doorbell, and even Kennedy might leave if no one came.
Or not. The doorbell started ringing again cheerfully, then insistently, and then Freddy's huge annoying eye appeared in the keyhole, magnified a billion times. "Is that you, Joey?" Kennedy hollered, banging the door with the flat of his hand. "Let me in!"
"What do you want?" Joey rolled his eyes, opening the door so fast that Freddy stumbled.
"I...um..." Kennedy looked baffled, probably because he figured the presents spoke for themselves. Little did he know. The presents were probably rigged to all blow up, except for Davey's, which would probably shoot out little hearts and turtledoves, or some gay shit.
Speaking of gay shit, Joey was convinced that Davey and Kennedy had some sort of psychic sex bond, because Kennedy had said two fucking words, one of which wasn't even a word but a noise, and Davey came hurtling down the long staircase to the doorway and shouted "Freddy!" like he hadn't seen Kennedy less than twenty-four hours ago, and launched himself at him, kissing Kennedy full on the mouth.
"Ugh," Joey said, grabbing the packages before Kennedy dropped them and shattered something by accident and sure enough the second Kennedy's hands were free there they were, one on his back and the other groping his ass like Joey wasn't standing right there. "Enough, guys."
Not that he expected it to make a difference, and it didn't. They were still kissing with the door open as Joey trudged up the stairs to put Kennedy's ticking time bombs under the tree, Kennedy saying "You taste good, you making cookies?" in what he probably thought was a whisper but was really more of a minor bellow.
"Mmm," more smacking noises, and a few really juicy groans.
"You look cute too, you know when you start making food it gets me all - "
"Boys!" Mary shouted, and Joey had never loved his mom more in his entire life, "You're letting in the cold air, and I need someone to come help me."
Davey reluctantly untangled himself from Kennedy, just enough so that he could poke an arm out and slam the door shut. But instead of heading up the stairs, he re-tangled himself in Kennedy's arms, glancing at Joey expectantly over his shoulders, as if Kennedy's twatish aura was somehow messing with his brain and making him forget his place.
"Fuck that," Joey scowled, crossing his arms. "I don't do cookies."
"Come on," Davey whined, while Kennedy kissed his ear or his hair or something else equally disgusting. Davey grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. "Just help Mom finish up."
Joey shuddered and glared stormily at the wall behind them. Davey being gay had been weird for about a tenth of a second, because Davey had always been gay, always way more interested in all of the Prince Eric scenes in The Little Mermaid instead of super hot Ariel, wearing only flimsy seashells over her tits. If that didn't tip him off, it was definitely confirmed without a doubt by Davey's almost unnatural interest in watching Captain Planet, with his gay hot pants and bared midriff, prance around and stop corporations from dumping oil in the oceans or whatever.
It wasn't the gay that was strange, it was the weird, unbearable truth that Davey was a closet freak for cheesy, promiscuous douches with big dumbo ears.
"No." Joey said flatly. "I'm not doing girl work just so you can... be a slut."
"I can help," Kennedy interjected happily, face popping up from the crook of Davey's neck where he was nuzzling like a retarded cat. "I like cookies."
Davey glared at Joey preemptively for a comment that never came. It was a well known fact that Kennedy burned or irrecoverably ruined any food object requiring directions more complicated than 'put in microwave' or 'add hot water, wait one minute'. Joey smirked, but kept silent; best let Davey break the news himself that no one wanted Kennedy within ten feet of any kitchen, anywhere. Kennedy happily pushed up his sleeves, staring at them both obliviously.
"We can both help," Davey said diplomatically, pecking Kennedy on the lips and running his hands over his forearms. "Okay? We'll finish them together."
"Wait," Kennedy picked up Davey's hands and sandwiched them in between his own, rubbing them. "Your hands are cold."
Joey gagged.
"They're always cold," Davey said in that soft, goopy tone he always used with Kennedy, though Joey supposed that Kennedy would need to be spoken to like he was mentally retarded. "C'mon, they'll warm up from baking."
"Or," Kennedy leaned close, "I could warm them up by..."
"Oh, fucking Christ," Joey howled, "I am going to barf all over you."
"Okay, okay," Davey said, rolling his eyes and pulling Kennedy up the stairs. Clearly, Joey had been away from home too long. The two of them would have to be re-trained.
- - -
Joey had not anticipated the mistletoe.
Well, he had known it was there, and he'd expected to have to do some strategic coughing, like last year, when Davey would blush and Kennedy would try to give Joey an 'aw shucks' grin, but clearly Kennedy being away at college had melted Davey's brain, because now he could cough and cough and cough like he was some old-timey heroine dying of the croup or whatever, and the two of them would just keep sucking face.
It wasn't even contained to the one mistletoe spot so Joey could avoid them, it was all over, the couch, the dining room, the cafe (it was more gooey eyes and constant little pecks in the cafe, but that was a whole different brand of nauseating), and worst of all on his favorite chair.
There were two chairs, squashy, golden corduroy recliners in the living room. One was strictly Mary's (or Mog's), not to be stained or worn or covered in mud. The other was Joey's throne most of the time. Occasionally Davey asked for it or took it when Joey was sprawled out on the couch, and Joey didn't make him move if he got it first, but when it got down to it, normally it was Joey's.
Until Kennedy.
Kennedy had always tried to take Joey's chair, but now he was exploiting the fact that Davey was too busy being all handsy that he forgot to tell Kennedy off for sitting in Joey's spot. Joey came home all the time now to a smug Kennedy with a lap full of Davey, leaning in close and looking like a Precious Moments card had vomited in his living room.
"Right," Joey said, turning on his heel to go to his room, or the kitchen, or the bathroom; anywhere where he wouldn't have to watch Davey and Freddy get all Brokeback all over his favorite chair. Unfortunately, Joey bumped right into Mary, who managed quite impressively to keep a laden tray of cookies and champagne flutes filled with sparkling cider upright.
"Sit down Joey, honestly," Mary set the tray down on the coffee table huffily, returning to the kitchen to wash her floury hands.
Joey turned back to Davey and Kennedy, who were blowing disgusting raspberries on each other's necks and laughing completely unselfconsciously. He shuddered, raising a foot and jabbing Kennedy in the knee with it sharply. "You're in my chair."
"We're in your chair," Kennedy corrected with a grin. He covered Davey's hand with his, where it was affectionately tangled in the collar of his shirt.
"So, get out of it," Joey hissed, kicking Kennedy s in the ankle. "Davey," he pleaded, knowing that he was whining but not caring. "Make him get out of my chair."
"Can't you sit somewhere else?" Davey lifted his head, flushed. "We're kind of -"
"No, I cannot sit somewhere else," Joey's voice boomed. "Why would say that? Better yet, why would you even think - "
"It's okay," Kennedy interrupted, turning Davey's chin to face him. "Couch. More room."
Davey grinned, sprang to his feet and tugged on Freddy's tie again, while Joey groaned and kicked Kennedy one more time, for good measure. "That's not what I meant at all."
"You sure you want to move, Freddy?" Davey vindictively asked, eyes fixed around Kennedy's forehead.
"Anywhere you want to go is fine with me," Kennedy grinned stupidly. "I like you. I like your furniture. It's so much better than the bricks they call chairs in my dorm."
Joey choked. Davey looked at him under lowered lashes, eyes filled with an almost comical amount of sorrow. "Really?"
Kennedy nodded gravely. "It's terrible, sometimes. It's good to be home."
Freddy and Davey's newest stupid habit involved them acting all the time as if Freddy, instead of going off to college, was actually a soldier on a rare visit home after a long, bloody series of campaigns. It was mainly stupid for two reasons; because Freddy wasn't going to war but off to college a short train ride away, and because Joey had it on good authority that Freddy spent a large amount of that time partying with his weird European roommate and taking obnoxious drunk pictures of himself that popped up on Facebook the next day.
"Oh god," Joey groaned, trying his best to focus on the television and block them out.
"My poor baby," Davey cooed. To his credit it was laced with a heavy dose of sarcasm, but he was cooing and stroking Kennedy's hair. "How did you ever survive?"
"I dunno," Kennedy said, grinning big and dirty. "That, less time naked with you..."
"I hate Christmas!" Joey shouted, stomping to his room and slamming the door on Davey and his ugly, retarded boyfriend laughing like morons.
- - -
Okay, maybe "retarded" was an unfair estimate. Kennedy was clearly not retarded. You can't be retarded and keep up a pointed attack on someone's sanity for as long as Kennedy had. And Kennedy was getting strategic. He and Davey usually spent a lot of time over in his den of iniquity, probably having sex at disgusting volumes, but Kennedy started giving up sex voluntarily to stake out the chair, whining at Davey to get him food or sit in his lap. Davey had begun to slowly lose patience with Kennedy's game by New Year's Eve, at least. Kennedy came over at some weird hour before Davey was awake and instead of crawling in his bed, staked out the chair and beamed at everyone.
"Regina and Pops fall asleep early," he explained to Davey, who actually looked mildly annoyed at waking up to Freddy eating a box of Lucky Charms in the chair.
"I don't think they fall asleep this early," Davey grumbled, going to make toast with peanut butter. Joey just shoveled granola in his mouth and watched.
"Baby," Kennedy cooed, reclining the chair and making huge eyes at Davey, "I got here so early, do I at least get a cold glass of milk and a kiss good morning?"
"If I get you a big glass of milk you'll have to pee faster," Davey said.
"Have I ever told you you're both clever and beautiful?" Kennedy asked, batting his lashes.
"Have I ever told you you're a moron?" Davey shot back.
"Not lately," Kennedy looked up happily at Davey, as if he were about to pay him a great compliment.
"You're a moron," Davey replied grumpily, reaching over and tweaking Kennedy's nose. "Of the highest degree."
Kennedy mistook it for an affectionate gesture, and smooshed up his lips until they grazed the bottom of Davey's fingers. "Don't touch me," Davey snapped, immediately snatching them way as if they had been burned. He stomped over to the side of the couch farthest away from the recliner.
Way to go, Davey! Joey nodded approvingly; crunching on his granola and trying to simultaneously to ignore Kennedy's resulting hissy fit and edge up the volume on the television in the resulting tense silence.
"Aw, babe," Kennedy was pleading, stretching an arm towards Davey but not budging an inch from the chair. "Don't be like that."
"Be like what?" Davey frowned. "Tired? That's your fault, in case you forgot."
"Cranky." Kennedy's arm dropped, and the stupid puppy dog face he usually wore at such moments abruptly melted to one of utter misery. Joey left the room to go re-fill his cereal bowl.
"You don't care about my feelings," Davey was saying when Joey returned, because Davey had a vagina. "You never do. The only thing you care about is sitting in that stupid chair."
"I do so care about your feelings," Kennedy argued. "Why do you think I'm always over here? Huh?"
"Because you like being insufferable and ordering me around all the time," Davey threw his hands in the air. "You won't even let me come over to the basement any more, because you'd rather be here bothering everyone."
Joey squashed his hands over his ears as hard as he could, because while listening to Davey and Freddy make wet smacking noises in the corner of the room was pretty bad, listening to his brother whine about not getting any was much, much worse.
"No I wouldn't," Kennedy got up from the chair, which made Joey nearly choke on his cereal. Kennedy was leaving the chair? God, Davey was powerful. He quietly tiptoed over and peeked around the doorframe, watching Kennedy kneal so he was face-to-face with a grumpy, sprawled-out Davey on the couch, stroking through his hair. Davey still looked grumpy, but like he was perhaps considering forgiveness, like Mog did after she was fed. "I'm sorry, Davey," Kennedy was whispering in a voice that Joey had never heard him use before. It was... nice. And fond. And weird, weird shit like that. "You know I'm just having some fun."
"You take it too far sometimes," Davey whispered back, but he looked like he was being swayed. Gently, Kennedy crawled onto the couch and insinuated himself behind Davey, throwing an arm around his back and kissing his tense shoulders through his sleep sweatshirt. Joey looked away before he went blind.
"I know," Kennedy said, voice a little less gentle and a little louder and more sexually abrasive again. "but we can do it right here to make up for it."
"I'm not doing it on the couch," Davey sighed, and then murmured something indistinct before the soft sucking noises started up again. Joey risked a glance in. Okay, so they weren't having sex, but they were necking, and doing it for the long haul so it wouldn't ever lead to sex, the kind of kissing that was lame enough that Joey hadn't thought about doing it in years, with all the goopy hand-holding and hair-stroking and no tongues at all. It would almost be better if they were thrusting their tongues everywhere and grinding on each other. It would be less saccharine and nauseating, anyway. There was no way the chair was worth sitting through what would be several hours until his mom started demanding that they help with New Year's food. With a sigh, Joey dumped the dregs of his milk in the kitchen sink before shutting himself back in his room, where Mog was waiting on his bed, highly grumpy and yowling for attention.
"Fucking Kennedy," he said. "Master fucking strategist in chair wars."
"Mow," Mog agreed darkly, swishing her tail.
- - -
Joey actually managed to hold out in his room for some time. When it came time to help Mary in the kitchen, she wisely limited him to running out to the supermarket picking up ingredients while Davey and Kennedy helped out. But by the time he got back, Kennedy had managed to spill flour everywhere, upset a bottle of olive oil, and start a small, but uncontained fire. Mary pushed them both out to the living to watch retrospective specials on VH1 and set the table, yelling at Joey to help her finish up.
Which was only a little disagreeable, but not terrible. Joey only really, really, hated cooking when it was the way Davey did it, helping out with the baking in his blue apron while he and Lydia sang and bopped along to whatever artsy mixtape they were playing that week. Otherwise it was just really, really boring, series of mind-numbingly banal steps that resulted in food at the end.
"That's good," she nodded, smoothing her hair off of her forehead as Joey finished sharpening Mary's great big meat cleaver. "You can call the boys in the dining room. Don't give me that look -- " she frowned. Joey smoothed his features back into impassivity. "Just do it, please."
Although it looked early as if Kennedy had clearly capitulated to Davey's whining, Kennedy won out in the end. Davey was squashed next to him in the chair, legs tangled up with Kennedy's. He was flipping through an old tv guide issue while Kennedy rested his chin on his shoulder, hands around Davey's midsection, reading along. Davey looked as if he hadn't been at Kennedy's throat because of the same damn chair just that morning; proving for once and for all that he was spineless and always willing to be completely bitched out, no matter what the occasion or who was doing it.
Joey shot him a disappointed look that he hoped conveyed as much, but Davey only shrugged his shoulders and turned a page lazily.
"It's time to eat," Joey glared at Kennedy. "You can get out of my chair, now."
Davey looked up at him, blinking and adjusting his eyes. "Are we eating at the table?" He asked.
"No!" Mary shouted from the kitchen. "Nothing is getting on that tablecloth, I need it for tomorrow."
"Okay," Davey said, and then turned to Freddy. "Want me to get you a plate?"
"Mhm!" Freddy beamed. "With extra -"
"Mashed potatoes and gravy, and enough of it to feed eight people, I know," Davey laughed, leaning up for a brief kiss. "You owe me."
"I'll remember that," Kennedy growled, waggling his eyebrows and smacking Davey on the ass when he got up.
"Davey," Joey said while they loaded up their plates. "Don't you remember this morning? I mean, really. Fuck. You're like a fucking goldfish with this guy."
Davey rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Joey, I remember, but I made Freddy promise to give you the chair all of tomorrow, okay? Chill."
That stung. The chair wasn't Kennedy's to give to Joey, it was Joey's to dole out to the worthy. How dare Kennedy act like he owned it and then use it as leverage to get Davey to do his bidding?
"I don't want it," Joey sulked.
"Really? Because I can tell Freddy you surrender and we won't clear out in the afternoon to have lots of s-"
"Augh!" Joey clapped his hands over his ears and ignored Davey's knowing smirk. Little ass. Clearly spending too much time with Kennedy. "No! The chair is mine tomorrow! All mine!"
"You're welcome," Davey said, like he'd performed some great big fucking favor, grabbing a bottle of iced tea and a beer and sticking them under his arm before making his way back into the living room.
"Mom," Joey whined the second Davey was gone, trying to appeal to her maternal instincts and the fact that she loved him more.
"What, Joey?" She asked distractedly, taking a forkful of stringbeans before going to stir one of the four pots she had going at once.
"Make Davey stop being so... so... how does he get out of helping you tomorrow anyway?"
"He doesn't, he's helping me all morning, and then he's going over to Freddy's for a bit. Stop whining and hand me the salt."
"But he and Kennedy are being obnoxious on purpose," Joey said in a tone that was manly, not whiny at all. "Look at them!" He made a grand waving gesture to them squashed together in the chair, giggling and stealing bits off of each other's plates while they made googly eyes at each other.
Mary looked up and stopped cooking for a moment, clasping her hands while Joey watched her, horrified. "That's sweet."
Joey closed his eyes and shook his head. "It is not sweet, it is disgusting and they've been at it all day."
"Freddy's been gone for a long time," Mary shrugged, tasting a sauce and thinking it over with pursed lips. "And Davey's been busy. This holiday season has been the longest stretch of time I've seen Davey relaxed and away from his phone. They miss each other."
"And I miss being able to sit out in the living room without having to watch them go at it all the time. I've been away from home a long time too. I have rights." Joey replied petulantly.
"You'll get over it," Mary waved a hand dismissively, pulling a few fresh basil leaves off of a much abused plant on the counter. "I think it's adorable." Kennedy was feeding Davey as if he was four, holding forkfuls of vegetables up to his lips. Only Davey wasn't prone to piggishly shoveling food in his mouth like Kennedy was, and all of the forkfuls were ridiculously large; to the point where Davey had to steady Kennedy's wrist and open his mouth wide to eat. Kennedy smirked and made some sort of presumably dirty joke which Davey laughed at, and then they were at it again --
"I can't do this any more," Joey rested his head on the counter longsufferingly, soaking up its comforting coolness. "I'm going to kill one of them. Or both. Probably both."
"Stop being so dramatic," Mary swatted his head with an oven mitten. "It's not like they've been much different over the last few years."
"Except for the fact that they are doing it spite me," Joey spat, looking over to where Kennedy's fingers were inching up Davey's shirt. "I may never sit in that chair again."
"This isn't some sort of sibling thing, is it?" Mary looked at him, amused, before setting a calming hand on Joey's shoulder. "Just because Davey's been hanging out with his new friend doesn't mean he loves you any less, you know."
"Everyone in this house is insane," Joey muttered, stomping away.
- - -
Davey had somehow conned everyone into watching Anderson Cooper and Kathy Griffin on CNN, which was the gayest fucking thing ever, but nothing else was on. Besides, Mary kept calling them in to give her a hand or chop something, so it wasn't like they wanted to watch something they were really invested in anyway. Joey got the allure of watching this bullshit for Freddy and Davey, because even he could tell that Anderson Cooper was kind of foxy, but that Kathy Griffin chick was shrill as hell and not hot at all. Though, even Joey could admit, trying to get Anderson Cooper to admit he was gay was always amusing television.
It apparently wasn't interesting enough to keep Kennedy up, though, because he nodded off around ten, breathing a little more heavily through his mouth. He got restless every time Davey slipped out (slowly, so as not to wake him) to go to the bathroom or help their mom, Kennedy would grumble and thrash, spreading his limbs out in search of something until Davey crawled back into the chair, then he clung to him like a small child would a teddy, mashing his cheek against the top of Davey's head.
"What is he, the world's most co-dependent sleeper?" Joey asked.
"Shhh," Davey shushed.
"Maybe you should wake him, hon," Mary said, coming in and wiping her hands. "It's almost midnight."
"Oh, God, no," Joey groaned. "Let him sleep. Please, let him sleep."
"C'mon Freddy," Davey started flicking one of Kennedy's oversized ears. "Up and at 'em."
"Nnn, fuck, awake, awake," Kennedy grumbled, opening his eyes and glaring. "That was fucking mean, dude."
"Sorry," Davey pressed a grossly apologetic kiss to he abused appendage. "We've got twenty seconds to midnight and I needed someone to kiss."
"What?" Joey yelped. "No. No. None of that. Banned in this house. No kissing."
"Mom will kiss you," Davey said stubbornly. "Just because you're slutty and single doesn't..."
"Four, three, boys, enough, one," Mary said, leaning over and giving all three of them (really, Joey thought, really) a kiss on the top of their head. "Happy New Year."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Joey grumbled, hugging her. "Love you too, Mom."
"Happy new year, babe," Joey vaguely heard Kennedy whisper before kissing his brother, at least not all gross and slobbery, and not in their stupid, considerately girly way. Just a nice, no-nonsense kiss. At first, anyway, until Davey grabbed a hold of Kennedy's shirt and started really going to town on him.
"Ick," Joey moaned to his mother. "Why are there so many holidays that encourage kissing all at once?"
"You can look forward to Valentine's Day," Mary suggested, smoothing his hair.
"I'm pouring acid in my eyes first," Joey declared.
"That's the holiday spirit," Mary agreed.