Offend in Every Way


Sid showers twice after coming home from work today. On any other day, he’d take one shower, nap, then throw on a backwards hat and head out to Mick’s house to play Call of Duty and smoke up. Now, he’s standing in his bathroom after his nap, steam from his second shower still fogging up the glass while he brushes his hair, neat and straight. He can’t even begin to think why he cares so much.

He’s changed his shirt twice, opting first for his My Chemical Romance shirt, and then deciding to go old school with some Floyd. He chooses his least baggy pair of jeans (which are still baggy) and attaches his chain wallet to the back of his pants. He surveys himself one last time. At the last minute, he reaches for some cheap imitation cologne.

It’s not a fucking date, he reminds himself, because 1) he doesn’t do dates and 2) Andy may be prettier than most chicks with those eyes and that soft looking hair but that doesn’t mean he likes cock.

Sid pulls up to Pizza Planet in his broken down yellow Ford truck and checks the time. 5:04. Andy’s waiting for him by the entrance, wearing a blue and white stripped polo and khaki shorts that hit his knees. He smiles when he sees Sid, waving a little. Sid shakes his head. Who the hell is this kid and what planet did he come from?

Andy doesn’t seem to know what to do when Sid is standing in front of him. After a moment, he claps Sid on the shoulder and says, “Hey, man.”

Sid raises his eyebrows. “Hey. We going in or what?”

Andy laughs, sounding nervous. “Yeah, yeah.”

As they walk inside, Sid realizes he’s just not prepared for this shit.

Andy turns into a pre-teen the second he walks through the automatic doors, giddy and ridiculous. Sid looks around, wondering if any of his stoner buddies are hanging around, trying to sell drugs to defenseless kids near the bathrooms. Andy grabs a table and digs into his wallet. “Want me to get us some tokens?”

“Uh, yeah. Hang on.” He pulls some quarters out of his jeans and a 5 dollar bill out of his wallet. Andy tries to wave him away, but Sid insists. He sure as hell isn’t looking for any hand-outs.

Andy literally bounces away and Sid rubs his hands over his face, still feeling exhausted from this morning’s shift and his restless nap. He’s seated when Andy returns with two bags of tokens.

“So, uh. You wanna eat first or play?” Andy asks, biting his lip like there’s something to be nervous about. Maybe there is. They haven’t had an actual conversation in a while, Sid content with pushing Andy in the halls simply because going up to him and striking up a conversation just wasn’t in the cards.

“I’m starving, man. Let’s eat.”

“Food it is!” They walk up to the counter and order pizza. Andy gets a small personal pan with green peppers and olives and a pincher of Coke for the table, while Sid orders two slices of pepperoni.

They’re mostly silent while eating, Sid stuffing his face, trying to think of something, anything to say.

“I like your tattoo,” Andy says around his food, nodding at Sid’s forearm. It’s the Smashing Pumpkins insignia.

Sid snorts. He can’t picture Andy liking the band, much less tattoos in general. He’s about to say as much when Andy drags his chair closer to Sid, showing off his inner leg. “I got this one while in Cancun on spring break.”

The food Sid is chewing nearly falls from his lips. It’s just a tribal symbol, curving around Andy’s inner leg in flowing dark lines but it makes Sid’s mouth run dry. He finds himself wanting to trace those lines first with his fingertips and then with his mouth. He swallows hard. Perhaps he needs to rethink his entire assessment of Andrew Davis.

He recovers quickly and smirks. “Such a generic tat, that is. What’d your mommy say?”

Andy frowns. “She loved it, actually. And yeah, because yours is so original, man.”

Sid stands up, turns around, and lifts up his shirt. “This better?” Sid’s back is a huge color version of the Joker. When he turns back around, Andy’s mouth is silently open.

“Oh, uh. Is that Alex Ross?”

“Yeah,” Sid responds, shocked.

It must show in his voice because Andy smirks. “I do actually know things. That’s awesome.”

Sid grins. “Yeah, well. I’m not really a big fan of his work in general but this Joker is killer.”

They fall into a comic book discussion, which is good for Sid because they’re the only books he reads. Andy’s more of a Marvel guy while Sid prefers DC.

They finish eating and head for the games. Andy says hello to a few people, stopping mid-step. Sid walks to the claw games, scowling.

About 30 seconds or so later, Andy jogs up next to him. “Hey, where’d you go?”

Sid doesn’t turn from the game, maneuvering the claw to the center of the machine. “Not gonna stick around while you talk to your jock friends, dude.”

“They’re not bad… they’re not like, brutes or anything.”

“Whatever,” Sid says, embarrassed by this entire situation and hating that fact.

“I was gonna introduce you,” Andy continues, obviously not knowing when to drop something.

Sid snorts. “Don’t do me any favors.”

Andy turns to face him. “Can you stop being an asshole for two seconds?”

Sid misses the prize. “Fuck!” He looks up, glaring at Andy. “Dude, whatever! Why the hell are you here then?”

“If I wanted to be hanging out with them, I would be,” Andy says pointedly. They stare at each other for a moment and Sid sees the honesty in Andy’s eyes. Nevertheless, he scoffs and turns back to the game.

Andy plops in some tokens on his own machine. “Race you? Bet I could get more prizes than.”

So, that seems to be that, then. “You’re on, preppy.”

Andy beats him, but only by a hair. Sid has his game face on the whole time, but internally he can’t remember the last time he had this much fun.

They switch to a racing game, in which Sid clobbers Andy. When Andy suggests Dance Dance Revolution, Sid shoves him; but it’s not out of anger, real or pretend, this time.

“I’ve got moves you’ve never seen,” Andy laughs, a mock leer on his face. The words hit Sid like a ton of bricks and he flashes to an image of Andy above him, rocking back and forth on his cock. He stifles a groan.

“I’m sure you do, but I ain’t dancing.”

“You suck,” Andy says, cheerfully.

You have no idea how much, Sid thinks.

Now with his brain in completely in the gutter, Sid spends the rest of the evening half hard beneath his thankfully-still-somewhat-baggy jeans.

They wrap up Pizza Planet with skee-ball, earning a tie score each time. They gather up their numerous winnings, Sid giving Andy half of his.

“My hero!” Andy swoons dramatically.

Sid makes a show of rolling his eyes. How does this guy exist?

“You know, I won a Buzz Lightyear in one the claw machines.”


“Yeah, think it may have been the day of your birthday party before you moved. ”

Andy’s face scrunches up. “I, uh. I wanted to invite you that day. My mom said no.”

Sid bristles at the words. “Heh. Yeah, well, your mom didn’t want you blowing up all your new gifts, probably.”

Andy doesn’t say anything in response. The breezy summer air hits Sid in the face as they walk out. It’s only just now starting to grow darker; he can’t believe they’ve been there for three hours.

Andy shifts on his feet when they approach his car. “Uh, this was fun.”

Sid suddenly doesn’t want the night to end. “There’s a liquor store around here. One of my friends got me a fake ID for my 18th birthday. You up for it?”

Andy looks skeptical but goes along with it. They walk the short distance to the store, Andy waiting outside while Sid buys a six pack of Bud.

When Sid exits he nods at Andy to go around back.

“Never understood why you were older than me yet we’re in the same grade,” Andy says, popping open his beer and taking a drink.”

“Because I failed Kindergarten, dude.”

“Shut up,” Andy says, incredulously.

Sid laughs. “Seriously, you didn’t know this?”

“Uh, no.”

“Scouts honor.”

Andy snorts. “The cub scouts would scream if they saw you.” He pauses for a moment. “How… how does one fail Kindergarten, exactly?’

He doesn’t sound judgmental, just curious. “I’d rather sit in the corner with the matches I stole from my mom than participate in story time or arts and crafts. When I got caught trying to light them, they pulled me out.”

Andy doesn’t say anything and Sid suddenly feels completely naked. “If you want the lesson plan on how to fuck up you turn to me, man.”

Andy’s frowning at him, like Sid is saying something to personally offend him which is an utterly ridiculous notion.

He shifts from one foot to the other. Andy’s still seems lost in thought and Sid isn’t prepared for whatever picture of misspent youth he’s conjuring up. “Whatever, ancient history. Now I’m just the kid that probably won’t finish high school.”

Andy looks uncomfortable, or – embarrassed? Sid’s done with this. “So where you going to school, genius?”

If anything, Andy looks even more uncomfortable now. “Um, Ohio State. They’re got this really awesome library science program – it’s called The Kent School. Plus, I wanted to stay kind of close to home but my mom insisted I at least dorm—get the full college experience and all that.”

Sid laughs and takes a long chug. “Yeah, I can just see you tearing up all the clubs, man.”

“I do love to dance,” Andy replies, and he sounds – flirty.

The more Andy drinks, the giddier he becomes. It’s ridiculous and not cute in the slightest. Sid lights up a cigarette and offers one to Andy, who just shakes his head. Sid starts flicking some ash at him, and Andy slaps him away, giggling the entire time. He leans sways slightly, bumping against Sid’s shoulder.

“Why’d you always push me at school?” Andy asks, quietly, words a little stuttered. His eyes are huge and innocent as he peers up at Sid, illuminated by in the flood of the streetlights.

“Cause you’re a dork, dork,” Sid says and flicks the ash on his sleeve again. Andy looks skeptical but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes to leaning against Sid while wiping at his shirt and mumbling something about malls, clothing stores, and part-time jobs. He’s definitely on his way to wasted.

Before he realizes it, Andy is slouched against the brick of the building and Sid is caging him in with one hand while Andy now talks of wanting to specialize in archives and special collections and maybe work at a museum. It’s exactly where Sid can see him.

Andy trails off and looks up at Sid, wide-eyed and unfocused. Sid feels the air grow hot around them, or maybe that’s just Andy’s breath fanning his face. Andy giggles, blinking up at him.

“You’re a fucking lightweight,” says Sid, unable to help his amusement.

“I’ve had… two,” Andy says. “Two beers are perfectly respectable. And I’m buzzed, not drunk.” Sid almost expects him to cross his arms over his chest.

“Mmhmm,” Sid nods, staring at Andy. The moment stretches on, all of the humor suddenly gone from Andy’s face as he licks his lips. Sid’s gaze falls to pink of Andy’s tongue, blood rushing to his dick.

Andy tilts his head up ever so slightly and Sid sways closer, pupils darting rapidly from Andy’s lips to his eyes and back again. He holds his breath and leans in a little closer. He watches Andy’s eyes fall shut and then snap open.

“Shit,” he mumbles and starts digging into his pocket for his buzzing phone. “Yeah? Mom I told you, just out with a friend. Okay, sure. Yeah, I’ll be home soon. Uh, you too. Bye.”

Andy rolls his eyes. “Sorry.”

Sid takes a step back and checks his phone. It’s barely 10. “You got a curfew or something?”

They’re still close, Sid’s body thrumming with knowledge of what just nearly happened.

“Not really. But she knows I’m going away soon so she’s all – emotional and stuff.”

Andy pauses. He seems nervous. “I should probably go. She needs some stuff from the store.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sid says, avoiding his eyes and stepping away, wondering what the fuck just happened here and if he was imagining it all. They walk back to their cars in silence.

“You gonna be alright to drive, lightweight?” Sid taunts when they come to a stop between Andy’s car and his own.

Andy rolls his eyes and digs in his pockets for his keys. “I’m fine, jesus.”

They look at each other, and Sid watches as Andy’s lips part but no words come out.

“I had fun,” he finally says.

Sid scratches at the back of his neck and looks down at floor. He told himself he wouldn’t do this, but now he can’t help it. “Yeah, so. You like MMA?”

He sneaks a glance at Andy, thinks he can make out the faint flush of his neck in the darkness. “I never really watched it.”

Sid huffs and drags his fingers through his hair. “Well, there’s a UFC fight on Spike tomorrow. If you wanted to watch it. But, whatever dude.”

“No, that’s cool. Uh, your house then?”

Sid pulls out another cigarette just to have something to do with his hands. “Yeah,” he says, tapping the filter against the box. “9pm. Or is that too late for you, Davis?”

Andy kicks some dirt at him with his shoe. “I’ll be there, ass.”

Sid nods and holds back a smile. “K. See ya.”

“Goodnight,” Andy says softly and Sid thinks he hears disappointment in the word.

Arriving at home, Sid doesn’t even wait get into his room, just leans back against the front door, shoves his jeans down and jerks his cock furiously. That’s one of the great things about everyone fucking off; he can literally do whatever he wants, wherever he wants. He squeezes his eyes shut and thinks about Andy’s ass in those perfectly fitting jeans, thinks about Andy sinking down on top of him, riding Sid so fucking hard. Sid can see his big hands running over Andy’s neck as Andy throws his head back, can practically feel them curving down Andy’s sides before grabbing a fistful of his ass and rocking him harder onto his cock. He comes with strangled grunt, unable to remember a fantasy this vivid; he can almost taste Andy’s sweaty skin beneath his tongue.

Images flood his mind’s eye without relent and by the time he’s up the stairs he’s half hard again. He comes a second time on his bed, stretched out and boneless. He falls asleep wishing Andy’s fucking mom hadn’t called at that moment.


The next morning, Sid pulls up in front of Andy’s house just as Andy’s rushing out the door, Molly hot on his heels. “Sid!” Andy calls, heading towards him. Molly turns toward the car but not before throwing an exaggerated eye roll in their direction. Sid feels his flush creep up his neck for reasons he can’t begin to understand.

“Hi, um. This is for you,” Andy says, shoving a travel mug at him. “I thought you could probably use it.”

Sid takes the offered gift and tries to quell his disappointment. Andy probably meant well with the caffeine boost but Sid’s sweating already and hot coffee isn’t exactly what he’s interested in right now.

He’s about to say something, anything, when Andy adds, “It’s iced.”

Sid blinks at him and takes a sip. It’s perfect. “Um. Cool, man,” he says and raises the mug in appreciation. “I’ll get this back to you.”

“You’re welcome,” Andy supplies helpfully.

Sid bites his lip. He’s not sure the last time he thanked someone for anything. “Yeah, uh. So, I gotta go.”

Andy nods, jerkily. “Tonight, then?” He looks so earnest and innocent that Sid nearly wants to say fuck you, not tonight. Not ever, you dork, because I’m fucked up and you just don’t know.

“Yeah, uh. You know,” he says instead, and backs away toward the truck.

Andy just beams at him. “Have a good day!”

Sid groans as he leaves. Maybe Andy’s drunk a bit too much of this coffee himself.

The rest of his shift he stares at that damn mug repeatedly, mouth quirking up to a grin each time.

They sit stretched out on Sid’s far too small bed, their legs only inches apart. Sid had actually shoved the empty beer cans and Doritos bags under the bed and threw all his dirty clothes previously strewn on the floor into his closet in preparation of Andy’s arrival. Sid made them popcorn and grabbed a Bud for each of them; it was all he had in stock, snack and drink wise. Thankfully, Andy made no comment on how dark and quiet the house was.

Andy shifts, his thigh brushing against Sid’s. Sid bites his lip to keep from releasing a groan and digs into the popcorn bag, nearly shivering when Andy’s hand bumps his own as he withdraws.

“Sorry,” Andy mutters and Christ, Sid can nearly hear the blush in his voice. Sid grunts in response and shoves the kernels into his mouth.

The fight’s been on for a little while now, and Andy has started asking some questions: Who’s this guy? He’s a… welterweight? How does that differ from lightweight?

Sid finds the entire damn thing stupidly adorable and Sid doesn’t find things adorable. He finds most people revolting, can’t handle how disgusting they are in their lives which he can tell a lot about their fucking garbage. Andy’s garbage is always perfectly packed, never overflowing. The cans themselves are always washed and clean. He has no idea how much of that is Andy or how much is his mom but he’s willing to bet on the former.

He huffs at Andy’s questioning, tries to feign more annoyance than he actually feels.

“God, you’re dense sometimes, Davis. Sure you got into that college? Lightweight is 155 pounds. The other definition of lightweight is Andy Davis after one beer.”

Andy laughs and shoves at Sid with his elbow.

Sid forces himself to keep going without smiling. “Alright so welterweight is the next class up: 170 pounds. Like, for example, I’d fight as Welter until I could put on some more muscle and jump up to middleweight or light heavy.”

He’s somewhat babbling, he realizes that, as if on automatic. To be honest, he likes the way it feels, talking to someone about MMA who actually seems – well, if not interested then at least curious.

Andy’s silence causes Sid to turn and look at him. “That make sense, then?”

Andy looks up at him, eyes so fucking blue he feels he could be blinded even in the shadows.

“Yeah,” Andy says, looking back at the screen. Sid can nearly feel the tension in his body, watches as Andy licks his lower lip and thinks he catches Andy glancing down at his arms. Christ, that does things to him.

“Do you uh, do you train?” Andy asks, words tumbling out of him in a rush.

Sid barks out a humourless laugh. “Nah, the MMA gym in town costs some serious bills, man. Plus there’s a fucking waitlist.”

“Oh,” Andy mutters, eyes still focused on the match.

They lapse into silence for a bit, Sid trying to concentrate more on the onscreen commotion rather than Andy’s slightly uneven breathing. He does a few air throws at the screen, not even realizing it until Andy starts laughing softly. If Sid Phillips blushed, well; he’d definitely be blushing then.

There’s a particularly long hold happening onscreen when Andy clears his throat. “I didn’t realize MMA was so, uh…” he trails off, waving his hand.

Sid feels himself stiffen. “What? Unsophisticated? Lacking finesse? Can’t compare to your tennis matches or golf tournaments?”

Andy turns to face him, his eyebrows pinched together. “I don’t watch or play golf, asshole. And yes, I do like and play tennis, but I also play hockey, soccer, and I’m pretty bad-ass at darts, if I do say so myself.”

Andy looks so flushed and defensive that Sid can’t help a laugh; it’s far too fond for his own liking. “Well aren’t you the quadruple threat, then?” he holds his hands up in mock surrender. Andy shoves at him playfully, and Sid can’t remember the last time anything in his life was playful.

Anyway,” Andy says, loudly. “I was going to say.. I didn’t realize it was so, uh, homoerotic.”

Sid does a double take, and his cock twitches at Andy merely saying that word. “Homoerotic, huh? All these guys rollin’ around on the ground giving you a chubby, Davis?”

Sid grins at him, bearing his teeth and trying to make it look mean even though the answer has his heart in his throat.

“Fuck you,” Andy mumbles, sounding embarrassed more than anything else.

Sid nods to the screen. “These types of guys turn you on?”

“No,” Andy squeaks out.

Sid’s lining up his next retort when Andy says, “These guys all have buzz cuts. I like guys with long hair.” His voice is confident, daring Sid to respond.

Sid’s eyes snap to Andy’s, who just turns his chin up, meeting Sid’s gaze full on. Sid is suddenly hyperaware of Andy’s leg pressing against his from knee to thigh, unsure of when they shifted closer.

He forces himself to remain calm. “Yeah? Bet you like twinks. Bet you’d go for some skinny blonde California boy who thinks he so cool because he surfs and lives by the beach yet he barely has an inch of muscle on him.”

Andy face is scrunched up and his breath comes through parted lips. “Don’t like guys with blonde hair,” Andy says; his words barely more than a whisper.

Sid can’t stop looking at Andy’s lips. His heart rate spikes, his room suddenly too warm in the summer heat, the fan on his dresser doing nothing to quell the slow burn. He’s transported back to last night, gaze once again flicking between Andy’s lips and eyes.
“What type of guys do you like, then?” He tries not to sound like he cares about this answer; he’s falling miserably.

Andy gulps in a breath before raising his hand to Sid’s hair, carding through the stringy strands with deliberate care, as though they may fall out from his touch. He can see Andy’s arm shaking and refuses to close his eyes. Instead, Sid keeps their gazes locked, licking his own lips and inching the tiniest bit forward. His cock is filling in his jeans; he can’t remember ever wanting someone this badly.

Andy’s head is still against the pillows, his fingers tracing down to linger against the back of Sid’s neck. His eyes cut to Andy’s throat, watching it bob. Sid takes in the twitch of his jaw and the way his eyes are half-lidded.

Then Andy sighs, and he tugs Sid forward, just barely. It’s all the go ahead he needs. Sid presses his lips against Andy’s, fighting back a groan when they meet. Andy gasps against him immediately, lips parting slightly. Sid’s hand slides up the blankets to claw at Andy’s forearm, digging his fingernails in while brushing Andy’s lips again and again until he coaxes Andy’s tongue out to greet his own.

Sid can barley hold back after that. He fists his hand in Andy’s hair, tugging his head back against the pillow and shifting his body so his thigh is between Andy’s parted legs. Andy opens for him, their tongues dancing, teeth clanking. Sid licks deep into Andy’s mouth, prying his lips impossibly wide, delighting in the small surprised sound Andy makes beneath him. Andy has one hand in death grip around Sid’s shoulder and the breathless sounds he’s releasing cause Sid to jerk his body closer to Andy’s.

Sid thigh presses insistently against between Andy’s legs, groaning when their dicks come into contact. His fingers splay low against Andy’s belly, rubbing against the threadbare fabric of his shirt in slow movements. Sid feels the heat of Andy’s erection against own for one glorious moment before Andy wrenches his mouth away, panting, “No, uh, w-wait,” against Sid’s cheek.

Fucking stupid motherfucking idiot, Sid curses himself, silently. He should’ve known this shit would happen. He was stupid to lose himself in the feel of warm body next to his. He hasn’t hooked up since Derek Chambers sucked him off after getting stoned in Derek’s basement. He was stupid to think this could be that easy, that Andy would want him like this without the ceremony of wooing or some shit like that. So what if Sid won him some plastic aliens last night – that clearly didn’t give Sid the right to suck his dick.

Sid sneers and pulls away, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah, fucking whatever. Nevermind.”

He flops onto his back, as far from Andy as he can manage, and reaches for his neglected beer on the nightstand.

He can hear the sharp panting breaths Andy emits as he struggles to rearrange himself. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Andy pull himself into a sitting position with his elbows and, fuck, he couldn’t even remember Andy sliding lower on the bed, could barely recall his own body presses his down.

“Sid,” Andy calls, his voice rough. Sid grits his teeth.

“Just shut up. Always knew you were a pussy,” Sid spits out before taking a chug of his beer. He doesn’t even know where the words come from; someplace dark and full of emptiness.

Andy mumbles something that sounds like ‘asshole’ but Sid ignores him, opting instead to down his beer, hog the popcorn, and will his erection to subside.

He doesn’t look or talk to Andy for the rest of the fights, half wondering what he’s still doing there.

Once it’s over, he finally looks at Andy. He’s huddled into himself, biting his lip while his fingers tap nervously against the blanket.

When Andy meets his eyes, he looks lost and so very young. It does something to Sid, causes some type of seizing in his chest he hasn’t felt since his family decided he wasn’t worth any more of their time or money and left him there, to fend for himself.

Oddly enough, Andy was with him the night that was happening, at that damn playground. He still doesn’t know why Andy was there or why he let him stay and talk about everything and nothing but he also knows he’ll never forget it.

“I’m gonna go,” Andy says quietly, snapping Sid out of his thoughts.

Sid just grunts, and flops back onto his side of the bed, already surfing through the channels for something else to kill the time.

He hears Andy sigh, listens as he puts his sneakers back on, the bed creaking as he leans over to tie his laces. Sid just kicks his shoes off, laces always tied. Andy had removed his slowly, patiently, like they were something precious.

He keeps his eyes trained on the TV, looking at Andy through his peripheral vision as he stands near the door and doesn’t open it.

“I didn’t want you to stop,” Andy says finally, like he’s being held at gunpoint, the words forced out of him.

Sid shakes his head. “I’m not the boy you want, dude. Just because I have the right hair color and length don’t mean a thing.”

“You have no clue what I want.”

Sid meets his gaze, hard. “Why don’t you enlighten me, then?”

Andy sighs heavily. “I want you to kiss me again and not fucking listen to me when I say ‘wait.’ I..” Andy slumps back against the door, his head falling back. “I didn’t even know what I was saying so I honestly don’t know how I fucked this up so spectacularly. You’re.. I’ve kissed a guy before but like, kisses after we’ve just put on a school play and we’re at an after party and there’s wine and cheesy 80’s music and it’s just.. stupid and fun. Not like..” Andy trails off, waving his hand in some weird circular motion. “Not like that.”

Sid doesn’t know what to say. His body is thrumming with want from Andy essentially saying he didn’t want Sid to stop. But at the same time he’s sure Andy wants to be someone’s boyfriend and Sid has never believed anyone would want him to fill that role.

So he does the only thing he knows how: self-destruct.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead at a faggoty school play.”

He watches Andy’s face fall, all the hope and earnestness draining from his eyes. He slams the door without a backward glance. Sid tells himself it’s for the best, but for the rest of the night he can’t get Andy’s smell out of his nostrils or Andy’s taste out of his mouth.

It isn’t until he’s half asleep that he remembers he forgot to give back the damn mug.

A week passes and Sid still can’t get this damn guy off his mind. He’s jerked off every morning and night since, hoping he could just wank it out of his system, but to no avail. He hasn’t seen Andy in the mornings, either. Some days his car is already gone and Sid wonders if he’s rearranged his schedule. Some days it’s parked out front and Sid looks up at the house, stupidly thinking Andy might be watching from a window.

That night he breaks down and opens up Facebook on his computer. Andy’s profile is mostly private. Sid’s curser hovers over the ‘add as friend’ button until he knocks back some more beer and clicks it. In the message section he puts, ‘I was a dick.’ It’s the closest thing he has to an apology.

Sid paces his room, refreshing the page a few times until he finally gives up. He makes himself some Mac-n-Cheese and watches porn for the rest of the night.

Andy friends him back the next day and sends him a private message.

Yeah, you were.

Before responding, Sid scopes out his pictures. There’s a section with his mom and Molly, a section labeled Cancun which features some shirtless Andy on a beach, Andy in scuba gear, Andy snorkeling. He looks bright and radiant against a backdrop of sunshine and white sand.

Andy’s relationship status is single and the ‘interested in’ section is not checked off. Probably not out then, Sid’s mind supplies.

He cracks his knuckles and types back. I know. Look up the definition of fuck-up in one of those Encyclopedia’s of yours. You’ll find my non-smiling face.

Andy must still be online because the response is instantaneous.

Hmm, you look younger in that picture.

Sid half-smiles. What can I say? Been a fuck-up since K-garden, bro.

Andy doesn’t respond right away and Sid wonders what the fuck he did this time. This shit is too hard; it’s better with just a willing dick and a warm pair of hands.

You can’t hide behind that excuse forever., Andy finally replies.

Sid’s eyebrows knit together. Fuck this guy and his sanctimonious fucking attitude.

Before Sid can start typing those very words, there’s another reply. I mean, I nearly got kicked out of cowboy camp because I was riding one of the other kids like a pony, way too hard, so you know – we all have our moments.

Sid laughs loudly in the near darkness of his room. He is also thinking incredibly dirty things while looking at the words ‘riding’ and ‘hard,’ so close to one another on the screen. Riding him hard, huh? Guess you were a fast learner.

Shut up :o)

The emoticon is simultaneously ridiculous and adorable, which may be the very definition of Andy Davis if he were in a dictionary. Sid leans back in his chair and says, Make me.

They go on like that for at least an hour, vaguely flirting. Sid is somewhat frustrated by the lack of control social networking provides. He can’t dictate the tone and infliction of his words as much as he could if they were verbally conversing and thus, he’s self-conscious wondering how Andy is taking their conversations, wondering if he’s sounding like a pushover more than anything else. Nevertheless, the anxiety of it all doesn’t make him stop.

They talk this way for a few days, the computer suddenly becoming Sid’s favorite thing in life. He’s seen Andy, but mainly when he’s either already driving down the street with Molly or from his window, which strongly suggests he really was avoiding Sid that week.

Sid’s home from his shift and hasn’t even showered yet before he’s booting up his computer. There’s a message waiting when he logs on and the subject line makes his stomach drop.

This has been fun but..

Sid swears under his breath, steeling himself for the inevitable break-up even though they aren’t going out.

..I’d rather not waste the next two months I have here talking to you online when you live only a few miles away. What do ya say?

Sid’s breath feels punched out of him and he releases a shaky, incredulous laugh. He can picture Andy typing the message, blushing to the tips of his ears and biting his lip. The want blooms through his body, slow and desperate. Sid will unquestionably fuck this up. It’s in his genetic makeup or something. But he has at least two months of constant Andy at his fingertips, boring lazy afternoons to kill, and he’d rather give it a shot rather than give up before he begins. He’s no coward, after all.

I say you should get your ass to my room so I can kiss you until you can’t breathe.

He doesn’t need to wait long for a response.

On my way :))

One day, those emoticons are going to kill him. Or maybe that’ll just be Andy with his freckles, clear blue eyes and legs that go on forever. He wants to spend Andy’s summer vacation mapping every inch of his body, giving him something to remember when he’s sitting in his library classes. He’ll try not to fuck it up. He has some money saved; maybe he’ll take him to that Mexican joint, have his friend make up a fake ID for Andy so they can drink sangria while some guy in a sombrero plays mariachi music. It’s far too corny for Sid’s liking but he’s willing to make some adjustments. His parents left because they said he’d never grow up, never amount to anything. Maybe he can prove everyone wrong, if not for his parents then at least for Andy.


~~~~~~~~ Back to Toy Story ~~~~~~~~


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