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"What?" he said into his shoulder. "No. Don't bring me anything. I'm... not really hungry." He pursed his lips and pressed a thumb and index finger into his temples, nodding. "Yeah... stomach

Go Fish - 26

problems." He caught Marcy cocking a hip and putting a hand on her waist and gave her a

lopsided grin. She looked like she just might kick him on Cal's behalf, and he was not liking the

angle of ascent as he calculated it, spread-eagled on the floor.

He scooched back away from She of the Ball Squashing Glitter Clogs, bulldozing through the

pile of aquarium plants in iridescent colors and nodding, "Uh-huh, uh-huh, yup, yeah," in perfect rhythm with Cal's monologue, right up until he took out another display rack.

Somehow, between the downpour of fake frogs, chew bones, and squeaky toys that were,

apparently, motion-activated, he convinced Cal that everything was just fine at home and hung

up. That done, he dropped the phone and sprawled flat on his back to reflect on just how fucked

up his day really was.

They had overhead fans with paw prints painted on them. And mirrors on the ceiling.

Huh. You learned something new every day.

Today, Ian had learned not to get out of bed without first making some sort of sacrifice to the

Gods of Gay Love. Ian had been in awkward relationships before, but never had they spilled into

the rest of his life to the extent that this had. Banged noses and sensitive teeth, chin splooge and

crusty sheets were all fine and good as growing pains went, so long as they stayed part of his

private life.

You didn't get any less private than sprawled on the floor of a pet store with a ten-inch rawhide

bone between your legs and a dozen motion-activated, vibrating balls.

He really, really needed to get laid.

Marcy crouched beside him, her face looming above his. More makeup and less zits. Ian had to

remember to ask for a graduation picture. She reached forward tentatively and pulled a plastic

aquarium plant out of his hair.

"Faux seaweed," she said with a shrug. She gave him a hand up and helped him brush off the

debris. Taking a long draw from the milkshake she said, "Let me guess. Girl troubles?"

Ian nodded. "Faux girl."

"Must suck," she said, all sympathy, with a French fry dangling between purple-painted

fingernails.

"I wish."

Setting the drink on the counter, she twirled a stray piece of hair around and around her little

finger, contemplating, before she shrugged. "Y'know, I could maybe help you with that. I might

know a trick or two."

Go Fish - 27

"Uh." He was afraid to ask. Seriously, balls-drawn-up-inside-his-body afraid. But he was also

wearing chocolate milkshake and a really stupid expression. "Okay, hit me."

"That might work," she winked, "but I have a better idea."

Ian shrugged and gave her his best hit-me-with-your-best-shot expression. Sure, she was a kid,

but her geekly stash of random information hadn't let him down yet. Besides, things couldn't

possibly get worse. Could they?

***

The next thing Ian knew, he and Cal were sitting on his bedroom floor with a handful of

mismatched playing cards each, and the 'fish pond' cards divided up and tucked in the waistbands

of their pants.

"Go fish." Ian smirked.

Cal huffed an exasperated sigh and laid his cards down at his side, fanned out on the floor.

"Should we really be doing this on the floor? You were home sick all day. You could develop

pneumonia or something." Cal was so cute when he was mother-henning.

"I'm fine, Cal, all good, but if it makes you feel better, I'll keep my blankie close by." Ian tugged the comforter off the bed behind him and wrapped it over his shoulders. "Now go fish, already."

He grinned, tossing his arms above his head so his t-shirt slid up and exposed the cards tucked

into the waistband of his sweats. Bottom lip rolled under his teeth.

"Fine." Cal shrugged off his outer shirt and tossed it into the hamper before leaning forward and drawing a card from Ian's pants. He rolled his eyes when Ian did a little belly dance roll to

influence his card choice. "Seriously, Ian, Strip Go Fish? Tell me this was the result of a fever

dream so I can put you back to bed and never have to admit to anyone that I've played a porned-

up kids' game. I feel like Feds should be breaking in here and confiscating the cards as part of a

child pornography bust."

That actually sounded pretty good, the putting him to bed part, that was, but no. Also, the fever

dream was actually a better explanation than the truth – that he got the idea from Marcy. Why he

was taking advice on sex games from a seventeen-year-old pet store geek he liked to think of as

virginal was beyond him, but it was a better plan than he'd had in weeks. And, in his experience,

there was very little Marcy didn't know something about. She was, at least, a well-rounded geek.

Besides, he wasn't ready for bed yet. Except for his short but eventful excursion into the outside

world, Ian had been in bed all day. He was not going to settle for just being tucked in again. Like

so many other things, that had stopped being cool when he was six. Ian did not spend an hour

discussing his 'girl troubles' while repairing store displays and picking faux seaweed out of his

hair, then rush home and jump into bed before Cal got back, just to have his brilliant plan --

okay, Marcy's brilliant plan -- foiled before he could put it to a proper test.

Go Fish - 28

Cal looked all kinds of tired, for which Ian was all kinds of guilty, but lemons into lemonade as

they say. Or in this case, cream into cream pie.

Ick.

What he meant was, this was a win-win situation. Win or lose, one of them was getting naked

before anyone was getting put to bed. And the Queen of Hearts shoved down inside his own

boxer briefs, he'd showered since that morning, thank you very much, pretty well guaranteed he

was never going to find the match for the Queen of Spades in his hand. Especially since he'd

dealt himself the club and the diamond right off the bat.

"Hmmm," Ian pondered. "Do you have any... queens?"

Of course, that wouldn't stop him from asking. Cal couldn't possibly have any queens. Ian would

have to strip and go fish. Like he said; naked. Naked was a good motivator. Sure, Ian would be

naked first if he kept asking for queens, but in that case, a loss was definitely a win by default.

He could be persuaded to throw just about any fight if there was naked waiting at the end of it.

"Go fish." Cal didn't even look this time. He hadn't had it the last three times Ian asked for it.

He'd probably remember if he picked it up in the last... three seconds or so. Ian should've maybe

worked on his subtlety.

If he got excited when Cal went fishing on him, he was downright giddy when it was his turn to

strip and fish. Laying his cards down, Ian did his best strip tease, rib cage shifting left and right

as he slid his t-shirt up, up, and over his head. He was trying for a sultry 'come fuck me'

expression, but as usual, his lips had a mind of their own, and he was pretty sure he looked like

Donald Duck putting the moves on Daisy. He had to wipe drool off his chin before tossing the t-

shirt aside. That was never a good sign.

He was not to be deterred, though, letting his fingers do the walking up Cal's thigh to the

waistband of his jeans, and making a show of sliding over Cal's belly from one card to the next,

to eeny, meeny, miney, and mo. Weren't many left. Pretty soon Cal was going to figure out there

was one missing, so Ian had to move things along a little. He couldn't help the way his breath

hissed in when Cal's tight stomach jumped under his teasing, and the card, when he pulled it out,

was tacky with sweat despite Cal's complaints about the cold, drafty floor.

Ian didn't even look at the card, though he did manage to resist the urge to give a good long sniff,

because that would've just been... freaky.

If Ian lied about not having the next card Cal asked for, it wasn't actually cheating, since he'd

already stacked the deck against himself. It was just more... motivation. And yeah, Cal sitting

Indian style, elbow to knee so his abdominals tightened, and pulled, and rippled just above his...

uh, belt... was pure motivation. The belt really had to go, though. He should've made Cal take it

off before they started.

Go Fish - 29

Cal was taking this way too seriously now, stupid competitive streak. He didn't even look up

when he reached over for the card, entirely focused on his hand like he hadn't already memorized

every card, didn't know exactly what he needed to win. He seemed completely oblivious to the

way Ian's heart pounded with gradually increasing volume as Cal's hand drew nearer, didn't

notice how Ian's eyelashes had suddenly gotten so heavy Ian could barely keep them open, and

he definitely didn't feel the stab of loss in Ian's gut when he drew the card and leaned back,

grinning because he'd made a match and starting to throw his arms in the air. He had to notice

when Ian grabbed his wrist on impulse and caused the cards to flutter to the floor.

Of course he noticed. How could he miss it? Ian noticed, too -- after the fact and with a distinct

kicked-in-the-gut roll of his stomach. He sure as hell hadn't planned this part. That was painfully

obvious when they locked gazes, nothing at all like the longing look of lovers in the moment

before a kiss. They were both dazed and confused with a definite hint of 'what the fuck'

ricocheting between them. Ian did the only thing he could think of.

He licked the back of Cal's hand, and did his best Three Stooges eye jab, "whoop-whoop-whoop-

whoop," cackling madly as he fell back against the bed.

Which. Ow. Bed frame.

He cracked his head. Again. Then, he got nauseous. Man, could he be any lamer? He was never

getting laid. Ever.

He wished he'd gotten a taller bed so he could climb under it.

Cal must've heard the dull thud of Ian's head against the railing, or the hollow echo inside it, as

he jumped to Ian's side instantly. "Ow, that sounded nasty," he said, pulling Ian's head against his chest so he could examine the back for cuts or bleeding.

"'It's okay," Ian said with a huff, looking down between Cal's pecs at the shimmer of sweat

pooling in his belly button. "Really." Ian's breath was suddenly shallow, chest tight. He slid his hands up, lacing his fingers between Cal's rib bones as a way of offering reassurance, but Cal

prodded against a knot in his hair and Ian dug in, Cal's muscles tight under his fingers.

Cal froze, and Ian couldn't help but notice Cal's nipples peaking under the tiny puffs of air from

between his lips. With the last, waning ounce of self-control he could muster, he said, "You got

any... queens?" He dragged out the sssss, watching in wonder as gooseflesh spread over the flesh

stretched in front of him.

Cal's hands dropped out of Ian's hair, slowly caressing down his neck and too-gentle over his

shoulder blades while Cal's chest heaved. Ian felt him swallow two, maybe three times, throat

working around an answer as Cal's fingers started to curl into his sides. "G-go f-fish."

"Thought you'd never ask," Ian puffed, eyes closed against Cal's sternum. His hands slid through the slick channels between Cal's ribs and cut abs down to his waistband, plucking out the card

right over the belt buckle. The card fell, and neither one of them looked to see what it was. Cal's

Go Fish - 30

fingers flattened against Ian, arms sliding around to pull them closer together, and Ian didn't

fumble the latch of the buckle at all. His eyelids were clenched tight, his stomach rolling with

anticipation. He got the belt open, undid the button and then the zipper, one metallic tooth at a

time.

When Ian pulled the jeans open, the rest of the cards fluttering to the floor around Cal's hips, Cal

jerked, his entire stomach sucking back away from Ian's fingers, a grunt vibrating through his

chest and against Ian's forehead. Ian chuckled softly. Ticklish. Good to know he wasn't the only

one.

Ian wasn't sure if it was reflex or a defensive mechanism, but Cal's hands flew off his shoulders

and settled on Ian's hips, could've pulled him closer or shoved him away in a heartbeat. Ian

stilled, forcing himself to wait, and when Cal did the same, he whispered, "Uh, a little help here,"

canting his hips up into Cal's hands. The pants were next to come off anyway. Cal wouldn't

forget a game he was about to win.

That could've been it. Finally. They were just about as close as they could get except for the very

last articles of clothing.

And that was the thing. Ian was wearing his tightest sweats. The elastic on those babies could've

been used for bungee jumping. And if Ian had just stood up and removed one leg at a time, it

would've been no problem. But that would've meant stepping out of the moment it'd taken them

forever to get into in the first place. Instead, Cal got a little hasty, pulling both sides at the same

time. The elastic could only give so much, and it did, right up until the pants hit the fullest curve

of Ian's ass, hung up, and jerked free of Cal's grasp.

"Ahh!" Now Ian knew why women shaved their legs before trying to pull on panty hose. The

elastic bound up in his leg hairs, and when Cal let go, it started to roll back up his leg, yanking