“Your face is fat.”

Chase scowled. “That isn’t very nice.”

Pete sat beside him on the couch with a shrug. “The truth hurts?”

Chase tried to laugh. “Ow. Shit.”

Pete looked sympathetically down at his—well, not friend, exactly, but that was the closest word to what these boys were. “Poor baby,” he said.

Chase winced. “I want more pills.”

“Only every four to six hours, Chase. Your mom told me not to let you take any more than that when she left.”

“Christ,” Chase muttered. “I can’t believe my mother sent for you to baby-sit me. You’d think I had pneumonia, not a newfound lack of wisdom teeth. Ow.”

Pete chuckled. “You look like a little swollen-mouthed chipmunk or something.”

“That’s flattering.”

“In a good way!”

“How the hell can ‘swollen-mouthed chipmunk’ be in a good way?”

“Is it still bleeding?” Pete asked gently, moving Chase’s hands away from his swollen cheeks.

“Nuh-uh,” Chase shook his head. “But it hurts like a fucking bitch.”

“You want a milkshake or something? No hot liquids, right? Should I get you something?”

“Just turn the TV on and sit with me,” Chase said decisively. So Pete did. “I’m glad she called you, though, instead of Melissa or Jane or somebody.”

“Thanks.”

“Seriously! They’d be all hyper, and cuckoo and shit. But you’ll just sit here, and I swear to god if I wanted something, you’d give it to me before I could even finish asking.”

“Probably would,” Pete agreed.

“You know I like you, right?”

Pete froze. “I guess I knew that.”

“Well, I do.”

“Oh.”

“Well, say something.”

“You know I like you, too, right?”

Chase scoffed. “Don’t just say that because you feel bad for the swollen-mouthed chipmunk.”

“I’m not!” Pete insisted. “I mean, think about it logically. Why would I come here and stay with you and your fat-faced-ness if I didn’t?”

Chase thought, covering his swollen cheeks with a blanket. “Don’t look at me.”

“You little baby,” Pete teased. “Come on, it’s not that bad.”

“My face looks like a squash.”

“You should put ice on it,” Pete suggested, laying a hand on top of Chase’s sleek, dark brown hair.

“Ice is cold,” Chase murmured into the blanket.

“Come here.” Pete hugged him. “You’re such a wimp.”

“I look ugly.”

“You do not. Let the blanket go, you’ll only make it worse.”

“It’s not worse if you can’t see it.”

“I’ve already seen it, Chase.”

“Yeah, but that was before I thought I had a chance with you.”

“You little pussy. You have such problems, you know that? Your face will be fine in a few days—maybe faster, if you put ice on it. But in the meantime, you’ll always have a chance with me.”

Chase snuggled into Pete’s chest, catching the taller boy by surprise. “Ow.”

Pete laughed, and Chase could feel the vibrations throughout his body. “Wimp.”

Chase yawned. “Shit, ow. Remind me to stop opening my mouth.”

“Chase,” Pete said steadily, running a single finger down the other boy’s nose, “stop opening your mouth. Go to sleep. I bet it’s those pills making you drowsy.”

“It’s not…they’re not…” he yawned again. “Ow. It’s just fuckin’ ibuprofen and clindamycin. Does that make you drowsy?”

“Clindamycin? When I got my wisdom teeth removed, I had to take amoxicillin.”

“’M allergic,” Chase muttered into Pete’s chest. “Shut up, I’m goin’a sleep.”

“You’re so cute, even with your chipmunk cheeks.”

“Mean.”

“Chipmunk Cheeked Chase,” Pete taunted.

“Fuckin’ stupid-ass Peter who’s gonna get kicked outta my house if he doesn’t shut up.”

“It’s not the same without the alliteration,” Pete frowned.

“Hmm.” Chase cuddled closer to Pete. “This’s nice.”

“Mmhmm,” Pete agreed. “I can’t wait ‘til your mom comes home and finds us like this.”

“Fuck her. She knows I’m gay and she didn’t invite a girl over—she must’ve figured something was gonna happen.”

“Or maybe she figured seeing your chipmunk cheeks would scare the boys away for good.”

“Rude.” Chase let Pete’s arm fall around his shoulders. “But probably true.”

“Chase,” Pete said, one more time, “stop opening your mouth.”

“In the romance movies, this’s where you’d kiss me.”

“In the romance movies, your mouth wouldn’t be a fuckin’ fatass. Be quiet and go to sleep.”

“Just one kiss?”

“One.” He leaned his head down and quickly brushed his lips against Chase’s.

“That doesn’t count as a kiss,” Chase admonished.

“Those don’t count as lips.” Pete kissed Chase’s forehead. “When you feel better I’ll give you real kisses, okay?”

“Fine,” Chase sighed stubbornly. “You are no fun.”

“Go to sleep, chipmunk cheeks.”

So he did.

And when Chase’s mother returned to find Pete laughing at the TV with Chase cuddled against him, she didn’t say a single word.

Bleh. I wish I was a cute gay guy with a cute gay almost-boyfriend. But no-oo-oo, all I have is a fat face and clindamycin to keep me company. Hmph. Wisdom teeth removal sucks. Obviously, that’s the inspiration on this one… I swear, I look like a squirrel, hoarding nuts in my cheeks or something. Jeez. It’s awful. And I have to wait another hour before I can take more pilllllz.

Review because you feel bad for me and my newly-found chipmunk cheeks? And Chase—you feel bad for Chase, too. Poor Emily; poor Chase. Review?