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slightly
    parted by Ian's thumb, but it jolted through him, something giddy, and happy, and perfect.
    So perfect it ended on a laugh. A bubble of happy Ian vaguely remembered from childhood
    Christmases but thought had gone forever. He giggled. Actually giggled. And before Cal could
    take offense or misunderstand, Ian pressed his thumb in and followed it with his tongue. When
    they had fused together, lips and tongues and breath, he broke it off with a smile he could feel
    crinkling his eyes, patting Cal's knee.
    "Glad we got that out of the way," he panted.
    "Me, too," Cal rasped. Then, because neither of them really knew what to do with the rawness
    and aching in both their voices, Cal raised the drill off the floor and grunted, "More power,"
    while gunning it to life.
    Ian hit him with a bag of rocks.

    ***
In retrospect -- Ian sighed, because 'in retrospect' only ever preceded something that kinda
    sucked -- but yeah, in retrospect, maybe he should've spent at least a little time on his own,
    realizing he might have gay tendencies, before he up and decided he tended to be gay for Cal.
    They lived together. It wasn't like he could take the guy's number and then angst over whether or
    not to call. Things kinda sucked a little with the kiss out of the way because it seemed they were
    both waiting for the other one to make the next move. The kiss wasn't planned. It just happened.
    Ian had a foggy idea about what might 'just happen' next, but he'd never driven a stick before. He
    seemed to keep popping the clutch, expecting Cal to step on the gas. Instead, they lurched
    forward and shuddered to a halt.
    Ian would've offered his hand to be drilled again if that would've moved things along.
    Except his hand was otherwise occupied at the moment.
    In Ian's mind, it was Cal who initiated the kiss, because hello, the whole reach-around thing, all
    pressed up behind Ian? That couldn't have been just accidental. Though Ian was pretty sure that
    if someone asked Cal, he'd say Ian made the first move by actually calling it a reach-around.
    That first kiss, whoever initiated, had been amazing, perfect, the kind of kiss that got imprinted
    somewhere and used to measure every subsequent kiss.
    Go Fish - 22
    Every kiss since then was made of total fail. It was like the first one was sitting at the top of a
    wall between them, waggling its fingers and blowing razz berries. Their lean-ins weren't timed
    right. One always leaned when the other wasn't expecting it, and they lined up wrong, or bumped
    noses. There was that one time they clacked teeth, which Ian had heard was all kinds of hot, but
    really wasn't. It might have prompted him to buy some of that toothpaste for sensitive teeth.
    They kissed with their mouths open, neither one sure who should go for tongue first, and ended
    up pecking each other on the cheek and going back to their own rooms, because nights were too
    short and days were too long to fumble around like a couple of virgins.
    Actually, that was the worst part. They were not virgins. They'd had sex. Lots and lots and LOTS
    of ball-busting, white-out, had-stomach-cramps-the-next-day-from-the-exertion sex. They were
    good at it.
    Too good. Because now? Well, who wanted to go back to the fumbling, really bad, over before
    it'd begun, virgin sex? They were badsexophobic, which meant, of course, they were set up to
    fail. Because, like it or not, Ian was a gay virgin and way too damned macho to let Cal 'teach'
    him. It was bound to be awkward.
    Actually, awkward didn't have nearly enough syllables to be fitting. Or diphthongs. It needed a
    diphthong. Ian wasn't entirely sure what a diphthong was, but awkward definitely needed one
    just to make it... awkwarder. Okay, so maybe it wasn't a diphthong it needed.
    It wasn't that they weren't trying. There hadn't been some huge meltdown where they'd both
    kicked the dirt and scratched their heads, adjusted their belts, and said, "Boy, was that a
    mistake." Ian, for one, would never go