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Your Couch, Your Quilt and Your Wife (I Love Them All)

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There was probably a word for people who got turned on by watching their best friend get a 'welcome home' kiss from their wives, Cale thought. It wasn't even a particularly dirty kiss or anything; no tongues involved that he could see, just a soft, sweet 'my lips have missed touching your lips' sort of thing.

"Hey, you," Kris said, by way of saying 'yeah, so we were going to be home in time for dinner, except that our flight was delayed and I completely forgot to call you because Cale had this idea for a new song and I am an idiot, so please forgive me?'. Kris was smooth like that; Cale could envy him for that, at least, if not for anything else, given how easy Kris was about other people borrowing his stuff.

Katy wrinkled her nose at him. Cale knew it was a secret (or at least private) message of some sort, but he had no idea what it said. "Hey, you, yourself."

They kissed again, briefly this time, barely a peck, before Katy turned to Cale, and Kris said: "He followed me home. Can I keep him?"

"He's cute, I'll give you that," Katy said. Cale grinned at her. "Does he know how to cook?"

"Ma'am, nobody in this town is better at ordering pizza than I am," he assured her.

"Hey, hey, don't you go 'ma'am'ing my wife," Kris said. "That's my job."

"But honey, I thought you were a musician."

"I can do both, right? I'm a hard-working guy." Kris's stomach grumbled, as if on cue. "Not to mention a very hungry guy."

Katy chuckled. "Sorry, I fed your dinner to the dog." She turned to Cale, while Kris did an impression of what was probably supposed to be a starving man, although it might also be someone who was pregnant. "I don't care what topping you get so long as it's not pineapple or mozzarella."

"Yes, ma'am," Cal said, just because Kris had told him not to. He didn't need to ask her where the phone was; for all that it had been close to three months since the last time he'd been here.

"So, hey, we've got a dog now?" Kris asked, as they moved towards the living room.

"Woof," Cale said.

 

When Kris was working on something, he often would forget to eat - unless you placed the food right under his nose, in which case it would just vanish from one moment to the next. When Kris settled down to eat, though, he ate.

"How you grew up to be so tiny, I'll never know."

"It's not how big you are, it's what other people can do with you," Kris said, absently polishing off his seventh slice of pizza. "Ask Katy."

Katy grinned at Cale. "I had to tell him something to boost his ego, you know."

"Well, you can be honest with him now, I think. He did win American Idol, after all."

"Yes, but look where it got me?" Kris sighed exaggeratedly. "Touring around with a band full of guys who are all taller and hotter than I am."

"Oh, you poor baby." Katy patted his hand. They were both smiling.

 

Cale didn't know where they kept his dream quilt when he wasn't sleeping over. When he was there, it was on the couch, waiting for him. He had speculated to Kris one evening when they might both have been a little bit drunk that it was a magical quilt. Kris had thought that sounded like a great and very logical idea. Kris probably had been a little bit more drunk than Cale had been.

Magical or not, it was a great quilt. Too great, perhaps; it had been a long day, what with the four hours spent waiting on the airport. (He'd had to talk Kris out of giving a show at the local lunchroom because yes, it would have been fun and probably even good, never mind that it'd have been just the two of them, but Kris was a little bit too famous right now to do that sort of stuff without anyone around to make sure nobody got hurt and everybody would keep their hands to themselves, or at least off those parts of Kris that were kind of off-limits.)

By the time the door to the bedroom creaked open, he'd almost nodded off, for all that he'd made an earnest attempt to stay awake, in part by imagining what Katy and Kris might be getting up to in there.

"Katy?" he whispered, once the door had clicked shut again. "Is that you? Are you sure Kris - " which was when Kris switched on the nightlamp that always seemed to appear on the coffee table when Cale was staying over, much like the dream quilt materialized on the couch. "Oops."

Kris arched one eyebrow. "Something I should know about here, Cale?"

"How about: no?" It wasn't like it had never happened, of course, but Cale just didn't feel comfortable messing about with one Katy when the other wasn't there as well. Katy had told him it was probably a guy thing, or maybe a 'Cale being silly' thing.

"Oh, Cale. Say it isn't so, man." Kris was a piss-poor actor. Cale figured that maybe that wasn't such a bad thing in this case, really; Cale's higher brain functions tended to shut down when Kris got naked, and right now, Kris wasn't exactly overdressed for the occasion. If Kris would actually be able to keep a straight face while accusing Cale of sleeping with his wife, Cale figured he might do something stupid.

"Hey," he said, "it was just a kiss."

"A kiss?" Kris sauntered over to the couch. "What kind of kiss, hm?" The quilt might be Cale's dream quilt, but it was probably the couch that was really amazing; it didn't even creak when Kris crawled up on it, wriggling a little until he was straddling Cale in a position that might be mistaken for one where Cale would have to put a bit of work into getting him off.

For a tiny guy, Kris was pretty strong. Cale liked that, really. He liked how Kris would let Cale take care of him in public, and in private, too, sometimes, even though Kris didn't actually need him to.

"Was it this kind of kiss?" Kris pecked him on the cheek - or, well, half on the nose, since Cale turned his head at the last second. Kris chuckled as Cale groaned. "Or this kind, maybe?" Kris rubbed their noses together. "Was it an Eskimo kiss?"

"Is that how you kiss your wife?" Cale asked, shifting slightly. "On her nose?"

"My wife has an adorable nose," Kris said.

"I think my beard is pretty cute, too."

Kris laughed. Cale experimentally tried to get up, maybe try and see how Kris liked being pinned down to the couch and getting nothing but pecks on the cheek and nose-rubbings. Kris didn't budge an inch, although unless that was another Pocket Idol in his boxers, he was as happy as Cale was to be here, so that was something, at least - even if Cale hadn't really needed the proof.

Still, Kris seemed to catch on that yes, the warming-up act had been very nice, but Cale would kind of like for the real show to get on now. This time, Kris did kiss him properly, sweetly at first, a bit like the way he and Katy had kissed at the door, never mind that Cale had been with him all along. Cale growled, pushing upwards again, not caring that it wouldn't actually get Kris off of him (he didn't want Kris to get off of him, anyway; he just wanted more, more contact, more skin, more Kris) and Kris made this humming sound in the back of his throat that meant he was either happy or amused or both.

Cale didn't particularly care which it was; Kris was moving. That was good enough for Cale. That was plenty good enough for Cale.

 

"One of these days, we're probably going to ruin your favorite quilt," Kris said, snuggling a bit closer as if he was a little cold which - well, his feet were, at any rate.

Cale yawned. "I hope not since then I wouldn't come over anymore."

"The truth at last. You only love us for our quilt."

"Damn right I do," Cale said.