Rating: R

Hal couldn’t move. Everything hurt. He was dead. For sure.

D.E.A.D.

What the fuck happened last night? Did he cliff dive off a roof into a wet concrete tub? Jesus H. Christ.

He was definitely dead.

“Get up.”

“Ugh!” Hal felt like telling Huxley to shut the fuck up and eat shit but his voice box was only capable of one thing. “Ugh.”

Something moved underneath him. “You’re on my leg. Get up.” That explains it. “Hal.” Huxley warned but he sounded just as fucked up as he felt. Least Huxley could form actual words instead of caveman grunts.

“Up or I’ll kiss you again.”

“What?!” Hal popped up, popcorn and chicken feathers went flying. Chicken feathers? He didn’t own a chicken. Nobody he knew owned a mother fucking chicken.

Huxley rolled and fell from the bed with a very audible ‘cunt bitch fuckery.’ The mouth on that bastard. His mouth… A flash of the night before came to him. Full lips moistened by a licking tongue looked downright delicious. The crowd around them counted down to the New Year.

“Happy New Year!” Shouts, catcalls, and various articles of all sorts of shit went flying. People were pairing off for their good luck New Year’s kiss. He leaned in to find soft lips kissing him back. The kiss deepened into something that could lead to rutting sex behind a building somewhere.

“Hal?”

Huxley calling his name brought him back. “We kissed.”

“Yep.”

Hal smirked. “Wanna do it again?”

Huxley smiled then ruffled his hair. “Shower and teeth brushing first.”

“How about teeth brushing then shower together?”
“That works.”