|The Window Bed
Author: Caseus PM
Jerry and Travis absolutely hate each other, more than Travis hates camping. But when they both want the window bed… Slash/Lime :Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Humor - Words: 5,759 - Reviews: 10 - Favs: 52 - Follows: 4 - Published: 03-14-09 - Status: Complete - id: 2647234
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The Window Bed
Summary: Jerry and Travis absolutely hate each other, more than Travis hates camping. But when they both want the window bed… Slash/Lime (:
Rating: T for sexual themes and strong language
A/N: So, this took me kinda forever…haha XD. I currently have a fetish for redheads. (: And I really don't know what I was writing; if you have any questions about the characters/plot, just make it up, cuz I have no idea. Ahaha. XD
There's nothing I hate more than camping. I'm being serious. You know the bugs and the animals and the bugs and stuff? Ew. Gross. I don't see how people can possibly stand it. I mean, what if a bug crawls up your nose? Or flies into your ear? Or in your mouth? UGH.
I mean, freaking call me a puss and everything, but seriously. Why do people love the outdoors so much? There's so much dirt…and bugs…and germs…and gross stuff…and near death experiences. Excuse, but I don't want to experience them. I hate going camping. I refuse to go camping. I will not go camping.
So why the fuck did my mom sign me up to go camping with my Eagle Scouts?
Friday afternoon, we (as in, Jerry, Ron, Eben and I) were driving to Camp Huron. Only because it was next to the Huron Lake, though (I mean that as in why the camp was called that. Not why we were going camping. That remains to be a mystery to me). Jerry, Ron, Eben and Jerry's mother were singing Camptown Ladies in the car, while I remained sulking in the back corner. I had a pretty damn good list for the reason(s) I was sulking, too. I had written it down on a stray sheet of paper.
Reason Number One: I was going camping. CAMPING!!
Reason Number Two: I was currently sitting in the car of my unbeknownst archnemesis, Jerry Tucker. Ugh. I hate Jerry Tucker.
Reason Number Three: He was also singing a very loud and obnoxious song.
Reason Number Four: He was singing that very loud and obnoxious song from next to me. Next to me. Ugh. Jerry Tucker.
Reason Number Five: The reason I hate Jerry Tucker so much use he is the most effing Boy Scout-ish Boy Scout ever. And in addition to that, but he also loves camping. Loveslovesloves it. He motherfucking loves camping. It sickens me.
Reason Number Five: I'm going camping.
"…Goin' to run all night! Goin' to run all day! I bet my money on a bobtail nag that somebody bet on the bay!"
Jerry, Ron, Eben and Jerry's mother cheered while I stared out the window despondently. They started chattering excitedly about camping at Camp Huron, talking and laughing and ignoring my annoyed face.
"Hey, Travis, aren't you totally exited to go camping?"
My head snapped to the left, to see the ever-irritating face of Jerry Tucker. Jerry Tucker. Even his name was freaking annoying.
And how dare he talk to me? The stupid sixteen-year old boy who had been, moments before, singing Camptown Ladies, talk to me?
"I'm totally…not," I said in a monotone voice. Jerry sighed and looked at me.
"C'mon, Trav, why do you have to be like that?" he said in his even more annoying Brooklyn accent. "We're going camping!"
"I freaking know that already," I muttered, resisting the urge to glare at him. I really would have, except his mom was in the car, watching us, and that would have been rude.
The said woman looked at me from the rearview mirror with a comforting smile. "Now, Travis," she said, gratefully without accent. "How can you not like camping? The beauty of nature, the fresh air—"
"The squirrel shit," I muttered to run who was sitting in front of me. He sniggered. Jerry pointedly glowered at me.
"You are a nutcase, Travis Colker," he said. "I mean, I understand for your hatred for orangutans and stuff, but this is camping we're talking about! Camping?! How can you not like the smell of fresh air, huh? The flowers? The trees? The clear sky? The smell of marshmallows roasting on a campfire—"
"While we're clapping our hands and sitting in a circle, singing Koombayah?" I interrupted, raising my eyebrows. Ron giggled again. Jerry glowered (again).
"All I'm saying is, clearly you do not know how to have fun," he said.
"Psh!" I almost laughed out loud. (The disapproving look Jerry's mom gave me was the only thing stopping me from actually doing it.) "Having fun? Camping is not having fun. Having fun is playing mindless video games and football and doing shit that people actually do. And who goes camping for fun, anyways?"
"Well, in July they do," Eben pointed out, turning around to face me. I gave him a look.
"That doesn't matter. Nobody goes 'Oh, I'm just going to go camping today!'" I feigned a gay lisp and put on a very gay face.
"Oh, so are you are homophobe now, too?" asked Jerry, positively giving me a death glare.
"Jerry, Travis." Jerry's mom stopped at a red light off the highway, and turned around to look at us. "I understand you two have some disagreements, but you guys should just accept each other and let it go. Travis, you clearly do not like camping. That's fine. And Jerry, be polite. You know your car manners."
"Yeah, Jerry," I teased in a low voice so his mom wouldn't hear. He gave me a nasty look, which I ignored.
I (somehow) endured the rest of the car ride staring out the window and listening to my iPod, while Jerry, Ron, Eben and Jerry's mom engaged in an animated conversation about Camp Huron. (Just somebody kill me now, please.) Within another twenty minutes in the car, we arrived at the campsite. I could see trouble ahead already. the floor was littered with random woodchips and sticks. Tall trees as tall as fifty feet loomed above us in a cluster of woods. A small shed was sitting at the side of the forest trail, and I swear I could see tiny little mosquitoes just waiting for me to get out of the van.
"Do I have to go?" I whined, as Jerry's mom parked by the side of the road along with two other cars.
"Do you have a choice?" said Eben, looking around the campsite interestedly. "Besides, we go outside all the time. You should be used to it."
"Yes, but we never go outside in the forest. To sleep." I shuddered, and tightened my swimming jacket around myself. Jerry (obviously) couldn't help laughing.
"You're such a wuss," he said.
"Shut up." I punched him in the arm. He cried out in pain and clutched his shoulder.
"Fucking Jesus!" he muttered under his breath, which caused his mom to give him a look from the mirror.
"Who's the wuss now?" I crossed my arms in defiance and smirked victoriously.
"Guys, seriously," said Eben, turning back to look at us with a slightly annoyed look. "Calm down."
Jerry and I muttered something under our breaths, before turning our backs on each other and looking away. OhmyfreakingGod, I hate him so much.
We got out of the car (unfortunately), got our baggage from the back and met up with the rest of the Boy Scouts in our troop. (Actually, we were two separate troops going camping together, but that's not too important.) I watched as they climbed out of their own vans and obtained their luggage. Once we were all gathered around in a circle on the side of the road, Mr. Becker, our troop leader, called us to his attention.
"Okay, guys," he said, clapping his hands. "We are now at Camp Huron. Remember, no electronics, with the exception of cellphones and flashlights—" I guiltily slipped my iPod into my pocket "—and anything you lose will be your responsibility. You boys will be divided into seven cabins. Each cabin can hold four people, which two rooms. Ah-ah-ah—" he stopped us before we could eagerly go to our friends to group together. He smiled. "You guys are already grouped in cabins and rooms."
There was a collective groan heard within our group, but Mr. Becker just ignored us.
He started reading off the groups of cabins and rooms, so I tuned him out. I was on pretty good terms and was friends with most of the Eagle Scouts, so I really didn't care who I was rooming with. I was content with whatever arrangement they set us up in, so as long as it wasn't—
"Jerry and Travis."
I should have seen this coming.
"Ha-ha," Ron muttered in my ear from beside me, and chuckling. I shoved his shoulder, snarling profanely to myself.
"Shut up," I growled. "Ugh. Why the hell did they put us together?"
"Because they obviously want one of you dead," Even said. "Hey, look at Jerry boy. He doesn't look too thrilled."
I looked over farther to my left, and saw him by his mother, arms crossed and steam practically coming out of his ears. His eyes met mine, and he narrowed his. If looks could kill…well, I'd be burned over and cooked as a steak to Satan. Even if that wasn't possible.
I quickly looked away. Damn. Didn't know that he hated me as much as I hate him.
"Excuse me, Mr. Becker," said Jerry's mom, taking her son by the shoulders gently, aware of the tense air between us, and looked over at the leader. "I'm sorry, but Jerry and Travis don't seem to get along so well. Do you think you could--?"
"Well then." Becker cut her off and gave Jerry and me a mischievous smile. "Then maybe sharing a room together could help improve their relationship."
I cursed at him under my breath. Freaking Boy Scout.
Becker went on about weekend activities, time limits, toilet stuff, blah blah blah. I tuned him out again and decided to observe this wilderness. Shudder. I saw a squirrel run by in the background, collecting nuts in its nest. The birds in the treetops chirped in tune, communicating through the branches. The Boy Scouts around me were eager for all this? Well, at least, it looked like it. But seriously. You could see all the nature you wanted in Frocksen. You didn't need to com all the way here to "experience" it.
Okay, so maybe it was a bit nice to get away from high school and the suburbs and see everything in its natural habitat. And maybe it was nice to see taller trees with fresher leaves shining in the sunlight. And okay, maybe the fresh air and the lake smell were really nice. But still.
After all the lectures and shit, I grabbed my stuff along with everyone else, and we started walking down the trail to the cabins. I groaned under the weight of my backpack and my duffel.
"More walking?" I complained to Ron and Even, who were beside me. Jerry, from in front of us, turned around to give me an aggravated look, but I just shot him a "whatever" face. Even chuckled.
"I swear, you and Tucker are like an old married couple," he said.
"An old married faggy couple," Ron added, snickering.
"Shut up!" My neck flushed red as I kicked the both of them. Ron yelped, but then chuckled while I frowned in annoyance. "Dude, you totally have a boner for him."
"And now this is the part where you shut up before I break your neck," I threatened, my cheeks flaming.
We got to the cabins, and I reluctantly joined Jerry (along with Jesse and Rover, who are okay in my opinion) inside. The cabin was split into two: two bedrooms each with two beds side-by-side, and a wall between them. Jerry and I made our way to the room on the right. I put my bag on the bed beside the window, and then faced him.
"I like the window bed," I stated in a matter-of-fact way. And then I added, in less of question form, "Do you mind?"
"Actually, yes, I do mind," Jerry snarled, coming over to me, putting his backpack next to me and then crossing his arms, glowering. "I can't sleep without having my bed next to the window. I should get the window bed."
"Bullshit," I spat. "You just want to screw with me!"
"As if I'd want to screw you," Jerry grimaced, obviously taking it mock-literally. "I'm freaking telling you the truth! It's nearly impossible for me to sleep without being next to the window!"
"You can't be fucking serious," I said, almost shouting. "You honestly can't sleep without being next to the window?"
"Actually, yes!" Jerry shouted back.
Suddenly, our argument was interrupted when Jesses poked his head from the next room over. Seeing Jerry and I, our faces merely inches apart from each other because of our shouting match, he said,
"How was this completely predictable?"
"Stupid freaking Mr. Becker wouldn't switch us out of our rooms," I muttered to myself, kicking the bedpost and wincing. Jerry rolled his eyes.
"Hey, then that just puts Rover and I in a worse situation," he said. "We have to put up with your faggy little spats."
"Coming from one himself," I sneered. Jesse blushed and glared at me.
"Dude," he said, walking closer to me and shoving my chest. "Don't even fucking start."
"Jesse, calm down," called Rover from the room next to us. Jesse glared at me again, before going back to his room just as Jerry's mom came in through the doorway. She greeted Jesse, who nodded politely, and spotted me standing up in front of the wooden divider. She smiled and rushed over to pat my arm graciously.
"Hey Travis," she said, beaming kindly up at me, but definitely aware that I probably was not in the best of moods. Coming into our division of the room, she greeted Jerry as well.
"How are you boys doing?" she said. "I know you two don't get along too well, so I came over to check on you guys."
"Hey, Mom isn't true that I can only sleep with my bed near the window?" said Jerry, slightly—actually, extremely—obnoxiously. I rolled my eyes.
"It's actually true," admitted Jerry's mom, looking at me apologetically. "The boy literally can't sleep without being close to nature."
"Ugh," I muttered. Freaking Boy Scout. "Close to nature" my ass!
Out loud, I said, "But…but I claimed the window bed first! Besides, I can't sleep without being 'close to nature' either!"
"Bullshit," Jerry muttered, crossing his arms and looking away pointedly. His mom and I ignored him.
"How about you two just discuss it later?" she suggested patiently and calmly, looking at the both of us. "Right now, you boys should join the others to go camping."
"Gross," I said under my breath, stepping over Jerry's other bag and resisting the urge to kick it. But I went out of the cabin to proceed to go out anyway, with Jerry and his mom following shortly behind me.
Hiking was actually pretty fun, I have to admit. When we all had arrived near the campsite, we went deep into the forest, and even though the sticks and bugs were bothering me, I soon disregarded them. We went along the trail outlined in the forest by markers, and the trail guide who worked at the camp (an old plump woman with annoyingly insane pink cheeks) told us about the trees and animals and history and crap. Admittedly, that part was boring, but it was fun to watch where I was walking so I didn't fall over, unlike Ron (who tripped and fell at a count of fifteen times). And it was pretty fun when Jesse and I had mock sword fights with branches were had snapped off trees, accidentally hitting Eben. And it was definitely entertaining when we passed by the lake and I might have accidentally elbowed Jerry into the water, causing an amusing twenty-minute scuffle of him helplessly splashing in the water, and then accusing me of pushing him in there and me convincing the adults that it was entirely an accident.
After that, we went back to the main campsite, where they have showed us around the mess hall and the rec room. In addition to that, there was a campfire, where we stayed to cook delicious anti-school hot dogs, of which I had four. With mustard, of course. Just to add to my delight, when Jerry had attempted to put ketchup (ugh, ketchup) on his own wiener (haha, wiener), he inadvertently squired it all over his Eagle Scout uniform, making him look like he was covered in blood. I laughed so hard that I almost snorted root bear out of my nose, ignoring his furious glare. And then after the hot dogs, we roasted marshmallows and made s'mores. And, okay, maybe that was kind of fun, too. And maybe it was even fun burning my sandal, causing Eben to freak out. I didn't freak out, though. (Well…maybe a little.)
Okay. So maybe camping isn't all that bad.
We started telling ghost stories after the s'mores, with Jerry eagerly going on about a couple and an escaped murderer and a car and a hook. I sighed and rolled my eyes from sitting on the log, barely paying attention to the story. My eyes wandered over to the storyteller himself, dimly observing him in the firelight. His strawberry blond hair, slightly burnt from the ashes of the campfire, was barely falling in front of his grey eyes, and I noticed he had a habit of flicking it out from the front of his face every two seconds. My eyes looked over his body, my mind blank and not noticing what I was doing. his fingers with bitten nails were nimble and delicate as he held the flashlight with one hand, the other on his lap. He had a strand of bright red hair, which stood out in the moonlight, illuminating his face like a halo. And, of course, his Brooklyn accent just made everything all the more sexy.
Wait. What the HELL was I doing?
"C'mon, Trav. We're doing to sleep now."
I turned around sharply, lost in thought and of the track of time, to see Ron standing up next to me, rubbing his eyes tiredly and stretching and yawning. I looked at him with raised eyebrows.
"What time is it?" I asked, glancing around to see the rest of my troop getting up and heading over to the cabins as well. Ron stared at me astonished.
"Are you kidding? We've been telling ghost stories for like three hours, dude," he said to me. "It's like, twelve-thirty."
"Geez," I muttered to myself. "That long?"
"Yes, Travis," Ron sighed, rolling his eyes. "C'mon, stop asking me questions. We have to get to the cabins before we're the only ones left."
I got up, and we walked down the dark trail back to the cabins. It was almost unrecognizable in the dark woods, dimly visible by the shine of the moon and the fire that was going to be out in a few minutes. I peered in the brambles of the forest, and suddenly remembered another reason why I hated camping so much: at night, you could see nothing. Absolutely nothing. There could be a freakin' mountain in front of you, and to you, it'd be completely invisible in front of your face. I mean, there could also be a man-eating wolf (well, I guess wolves do eat men) or like a mass murderer lurking in the shadows, waiting for you to rip apart your flesh, and before you knew it, you were dead. You could see nothing in the forest at night.
We made it to the cabins—thank Godfully, alive—as quickly as possible after I had persuaded Ron to sprint with me to the campsite. He had rolled his eyes, but joined me once I had made him aware of my fears—we were, after all, the last ones to arrive, and alone or not, it's still creepy. Hey, I'm sure it's not just me who's scared, okay?
Anyways, I bid Ron a goodnight at the arc of cabins, before returning to my own cabin, where Jesse, Rover and Jerry were waiting (not so) patiently for me. I rolled my eyes when Jesse griped about me being all dirty and sweating about running once I had entered the cabin, dusting off my shirt the moment I came in.
"No wonder you're a homo," I said to him, turning around so that he could get my shoulders too.
"And proud," he said smoothly, quickly wiping the dirt off my pants. I was pretty surprised that Rover and Jerry didn't care about cabin-ing with a fag. Well, I guess that's a stereotype, but you'd at least expect one homophobe out of four teenage guys. Except, well, I guess with what happened last year…
"There. All done," Jesse stood back and looked my over. "Now you're all clean."
"Yay. Now I can go change into my pajamas," I said sarcastically, going back to my side of the cabin.
…where Jerry was stripping.
"Ack! Travis, you pervert!" he said when he saw me step into the room and covering himself with his sweatshirt, slightly flushing and glaring. "What are you doing?"
"What are you doing?" I said, not able to suppress a blush as well, and having taken a glimpse of his rather nice body. "This is my room too, you know."
"Yeah, but I'm changing!" he said. "Respect a guy's privacy, would you?"
"Fine, fine," I said, even though I could still feel my cheeks tingling. Jerry muttered something under his breath as I stepped out to see Rover already clad in their boxers.
"Dude, isn't it supposed to go to sixty today?" I asked, though I started unbuttoning my own shirt to strip down as well. Jesse shrugged his nimble shoulders.
"Whatever. Actually, I thought it was just going to stay at eighty," he said, making his bed.
"Well, I'll just sleep in my boxers anyways," I said as I pulled off my shorts as well. Rover raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything about it.
"So." I perched on a bed with him (Rover) and looked over at Jesse with curious and mischievous eyes. Jesse looked at me putting down his sleeping bag on the cot.
"How are you and your girlfriend?" I asked. "Or, should I say, boyfriend?"
"Shut up." Jesse suddenly stopped fumbling with the blanket wrinkles, and I could tell his ears and neck were bright red even though his head was bowed. I smirked.
"Who's on top?" I pestered eagerly, bouncing on the mattress. "Is it you? Or is it Trevor? Ooh, you guys could take turns!"
"Or they could sixty-nine," suggested Rover from next to me.
"Yeah, but someone still has to be on top," I pointed out.
"Shut up," Jesse's cheeks were flaming, but he couldn't even bring himself to defend his relationship. Only better. I smirked evilly.
"So, is it hard taking it up the ass? Or is he not that big?" I grinned. " I always thought that he wouldn't be that small, though. But, of course, you know, right?"
Before Jesse could somehow manage another embarrassed retort, Jerry-the-Superhero came into the room, pulling on his shirt, and saying, "Travis, stop being such a homophobe."
"I ain't a homophobe!" I said quite obnoxiously with a lisp. Rover and I laughed, but Jesse and Jerry glared at us disapprovingly.
"Ugh," Jerry said, looking at me with disgust. "C'mon. We should get to sleep."
"But…But I want to know about Jesse's fag life!" I said in a rather girlish manner. Jesse made a point to shove me off the mattress, and Jerry started dragging me over to the other side, which pissed me off.
"Dude, let go of me," I muttered, swatting his hand off of my shoulder. "I can walk by myself." Jerry rolled his eyes and followed me.
When I entered our room, I realized that there was something wrong with it. The beds weren't made yet. In fact, neither Jerry's sleeping bag nor mine were even out of our bags yet. I turned to look at Jerry, who had his eyebrows raised, evidently pondering the same thing that I was.
"So, how are we going to do this?" he asked.
"I dunno. What do you suggest?" I asked him.
"Well, let's see," said Jerry, sitting on the non-window bed and pretended to think. "I have to sleep on the window bed, or else I won't get any sleep at all. You just want to sleep on the window bed just to piss me off."
"Dude! That's not true!" I said defensively. "I would much rather prefer to sleep on the window bed because I actually like it! Besides, you don't have to sleep on it just to get sleep! That's a load of bull."
"No it's not," Jerry sighed, rolling his eyes. "Well, if none of us can sleep on the non-window bed, then what are we going to do?"
We sighed and thought for a second, before looking at each other at the same time, struck by the same idea.
"Ugh." I rolled around uncomfortably on the mattress in the dark, the light from the outside barely illuminating my face. "This is so gay."
"Dude." Jerry's voice let out an exasperated breath from somewhere next to me. "Why are you such a homophobe?" I felt him roll over to face the back of my head, shifting his body. If I turned my face, we were close enough to be kissing, I realized. His arm accidentally brushed against my bare back, giving me tingles.
"I'd prefer it if you wore a shirt," he said quietly, his breath tickling my ear. "That way, you'd preserve at least some of your dignity."
"I don't need to wear a shirt to preserve my dignity," I muttered, rolling my eyes. I snuggled up smaller in a ball, accidentally pressing closer to Jerry. I felt him tense up next to me, but after I didn't move or do anything else awkward with my eyes still closed and wanting to sleep, I felt him relax, his shirt nearly sticking to my back.
We laid there in the dark in silence, barely listening to the sound of each other's breathing. I was just about to fall asleep, before Jerry whispered,
"You didn't answer my question before."
"What?" I murmured sleepily, turning over a little so I could barely make him out from the corner of my eye. I heard him exhale a bit, before he asked softly,
"Why are you such a homophobe?"
"Hey, it's kinda hard to be a homophobe if you're a fag yourself," I pointed out drowsily. I felt Jerry's breathing suddenly become shallower against my neck, his muscles that were barely around me tense.
"You're…you're gay?" he asked, which caused me to roll my eyes groggily. But then suddenly our bodies pressed so close together started feeling uncomfortable, and I shuffled my body together, trying to make myself smaller.
"Yeah," I said barely audibly. Jerry's breath paced against my earlobe rapidly, his nose taking in more than his mouth. His whole body under his clothes felt anxious, practically trembling under the light covers. Finally, he whispered back,
"So am I."
I turned around to face him in astonishment, completely awake now. I was totally surprised, and definitely did not see that coming. It's not every day that your archenemy confesses that he's homosexual—just like you, you know!
However, I unfortunately forgot one little detail. As soon as my eyes had managed to catch a full glimpse of him—
—our lips touched.
My first instinct was to pull away. I mean, seriously. This was Super Boy Scout Jerry Tucker, master of rope tying and biggest pain in the ass, as well as being Travis Colker's nemesis, rival, et cetera. Plus, he's a whole freaking year younger than me! And if we did "anything", wouldn't it be considered pedophilia? I turn eighteen this year, and he's only going to be a junior!
Of course, though, these were only my first instincts. My second and third instincts apparently didn't care about instinct number one, and went on enjoying it. As Jerry's lips were pressed against mine, my fingers delicately ran through his pale red hair, tracing down to his jawline. his hands straddled my hips—surprisingly, I had never noticed that he was both bigger and strong than me. All those years of Boy Scouting apparently made him buff and paid off. He rolled me over, our lips still attached, making me underneath him as he sucked on my lower lip for entrance. My lips parted and his forcefully glided his tongue through. He roamed the inside of my mouth, touching every corner and making me release a small moan. I lightly pushed his tongue aside with my own and entered his mouth. He adjusted himself a little, both his hands on either side of my bare shoulders, aggressively attacking me. His fingers ran down the build of my body, feeling my skin, stroking me. He reached my hips, going to the waistband of my boxers. I arched a bit and tightened my grip around his neck, his cold fingers drawing close to me.
Breaking off the kiss, I whispered, "We shouldn't do anything."
"Why not?" asked Jerry into my cheeks with a mischievous grin. "I still need to get you back for shoving me into the lake today. You know you did it."
I shivered, not from the cold (it was eighty degrees!), but darted my eyes over to the wall next to us, where on the other side two other boys were peacefully sleeping.
"What about Rover and Jesse?" I pointed out, looking at him hovering above me. He just nibbled on my earlobe, waving the question aside, and whispered in my ear,
"They can deal with it."
Breathing in his scent, my brain went fuzzy as he continued attacking my body with lustful kisses, making me become not to sure what I was doing. "Okay," I murmured back nearly incoherently. Jerry smirked, before slipping a hand inside my boxers.
Good thing the bed didn't squeak.
The next morning, a yelp woke me up.
I guess Rover had found Jerry and I sleeping under the same blanket on the same mattress with both our boxers…and his shirt, on the floor. My head resting in the crook of Jerry's neck probably added more of the shock. When we had regained consciousness from our sleep, I tiredly lifted my head up from our tangle of limbs, and saw Rover looking at us with eyes as wide as dinner plates. And, of course, Jesse grinning with a camera.
"I thought you guys were supposed to hate each other," said Rover, eyeing our clothes on the floor. I shrieked when I saw Jesse taking pictures of us and video taping it, and then pulled the covers over Jerry and I.
"I got back at him last night," responded the impish voice from beside me, sending off the air of a smirk. I hit the source of the noise.
"You did not! I got back at you," I replied, grinning.
"Ouch!" cried Jerry's voice, and then I felt an arm shift next to me. "Fine then. Let's just say…we resolved some things. Last night."
"And only a noob like you would say something like resolve," I said. I felt a kiss being placed on my neck from this comment.
"And you still love that noob, don't you," he said, and I giggled.
I heard Jesse sigh and it seemed like he rolled his eyes, even though I couldn't see him. "I guess we'll be more worried about them buttsexing than bickering here for the weekend," I heard him say to Rover.
I chuckled as Jerry and I played with each other under the covers, tickling and giggling. We heard Rover and Jesse trudge out of our room, Jesses flipping through the pictures he had managed to take, and Rover complaining about sharing a cabin with a bunch of fags. There was a sound of whacking, and Jerry and I giggled again.
"You know, if Rove' was gay, he'd totally have a boner for Jesse," I said, snuggling up against him.
"Yes, but Rover's straight and Jesse has a boyfriend already," Jerry pointed out.
"Well, maybe some of our fagginess will rub off on poor Rover," I smirked. Jerry grinned and planted a kiss on my lips, before resting his head against my arm and sighing.
"You know, I don't think we'll have a problem sharing a room anymore."
"Nope," I said cheerfully, kissing the top of his head. "Though, Rover and Jesse probably will."
"Ha. Well, Jesse's the one with the video camera," Jerry said.
"Oh right. So then Jesse's going to watch us while Rover tries to sleep?" I said.
"Probably," chuckled Jerry, and traced a finger down my chest. I giggled again.
"Key word being tries to sleep," I said, nibbling on his ear lobe.
Suddenly, there was the sound of a door opening, and then the familiar voice of Mrs. Tucker calling out joyously,
"Oh boys! Time to wake up!"
From under the covers, Jerry and I looked at each other.