He checked out every guy he came across and asked himself if he wanted to do anything sexual with them.
He didn’t.
He watched gay porn, and found it a little…disturbing. His stomach felt vaguely unsettled through the whole thing.
He asked the internet and took stupid tests, stumbled upon internet forums, and it was all inconclusive…
It honestly just confused him more.
But since he had no proof he was gay, he must be straight, which meant he didn’t have to avoid wrestling with Elliot anymore.
It was a huge relief. Damon missed touching him. He only realized how handsy he’d been with Elliotafterhe’d made the conscious decision to stop touching him.
Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder while they played video games. Squeezing Elliot’s arm at school. Pulling Elliot into hugs and headlocks and messing up his hair.
You know, best-friend stuff.
Now things could go back to normal, just like Elliot wanted.
“Dude, stop.”
“Sorry, I can’t stop being awesome. I was born this way.”
“No, you’re cheating. You, lousy cheater!” Elliot shoved his shoulder into Damon’s, and they fell into their usual pattern.
“I’m not cheating! You just suck.” Damon gave over to his instincts, to the most natural thing in the world: horsing around with his best friend.
Shove. Push. Kick.
Controllers thrown.
And it began.
Damon smushed Elliot to the ground, and Elliot pushed his chest and flung him off. There was a little scrambling between the two as they both swung their arms trying to get the other into a headlock, but Elliot faked Damon out and went for his legs. They tumbled to the floor with a loudthud, stopping only a second when Ms. Montré yelled up to ask if they were okay.
“We’re fine, Mom!”
“We’re good, Ms. Montré!”
Then they were back at it, fumbling and elbowing and dodging. Somehow Damon got Elliot turned around so Elliot’s back was against his chest. Damon locked his legs around Elliot’s waist, and swooped his arm under Elliot’s armpit to grab the back of his neck, getting him into a half nelson.
His other hand ended the match by fluttering his fingers on Elliot’s sides.
“No,” Elliot whined, elongating the word. “Stop. No. Tickling.”
Damon just grinned and continued his—okay, admittedly a bit sadistic—tickling.
“I hate you!”
“No, you don’t. You love me, and you love this.” Damon put his hands under Elliot's shirt to get a better tickle going.
Elliot was laugh-crying, but still not calling for mercy. He started wiggling left and right, trying to slip out of Damon’s hold, rubbing his ass on Damon’s crotch and bending his head back so his short huffs of laughter hit the back of Damon’s ear.
Elliot was so pretty with his face flushed and his eyes glistening with tears from laughter. His warm, lanky body pressed against Damon, rubbing on him.
Damon tensed, his hands stopping a second before Elliot caught up to what was happening.
They both froze.
