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10 different lovers

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Christopher and David have the kind of relationship where they spend most of their time punching each other out, sleeping with each other’s girlfriends, and giving each other furtive handjobs behind the school bleachers.

Jalil finds this about as amusing as anyone possibly could.

“Repressed homosexuality,” he explains. “In bucketloads.”

“Shut up,” Christopher says. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up, seriously. Which one of us gets manicures?”

Jalil takes another sip of his mocha, fingernails gleaming. “Which one of us gave David Levin a blowjob yesterday?”

“I don’t know why I tell you anything,” Christopher sulks, like Monday it isn’t business as usual – making fun of David’s poetry in English class, calling his girlfriend a slut, and sucking him off behind the dumpsters after detention. Fuck. Christopher needs some new hobbies.

Christopher doesn’t even understand his own attraction to David. Christopher likes girls – girls with blonde hair and nice breasts, who spend most of their time cheerleading and debating which doctor on Grey’s Anatomy is hottest. David spends most of his time brooding, smoking, and figuring out how to get his emo bangs to hang in his eyes just so. Or so Christopher would assume.

Christopher takes April as his date to Prom, mostly because April broke up with her boyfriend last minute and needs one, and Christopher would choose April over an empty-headed cheerleader any day, even without the chance of getting any. April would smack him around if he tried anything, actually. So he gets her punch, and dances without copping more than one feel, and even if during the crowning of prom queen and king he goes and blows David in the guys bathroom, he thinks he’s a pretty good date, overall.

After graduation, Christopher is set to go to one of the local U’s. He’s not completely stupid, as Jalil has grudgingly admitted a time or two, but he doesn’t have the best grades either. On top of that, if his parents are going to pay his options are seriously limited. They want him in Chicago – probably in case they have to bail him out of jail, though his mom insists its because she’d miss him too much if he went away. Jalil’s going to Drexel to study astrophysics and neurobiology and eventually attempt to clone himself and take over the world, while April’s studying art and theatre at Columbia. Christopher figures he’ll get his business degree because he’s really no good at anything in particular, because he’s got no other plans, and because he doesn’t give a damn either way. There are three-piece suits in his future. A corner office.

David gets a scholarship to the same university as Christopher. He only knows this because April tells him. No, really.

Christopher spends most of his summer in a drunken to semi-drunken haze, either in front of his TV or out with his friends – friends he’s had for so long he doesn’t remember how he met most of them, or even why he likes them. Midway through July, he meets Jalil at a coffeeshop near midtown. It’s full of irritating artistic types but Jalil is addicted to their espresso, and a caffeinated Jalil is slightly less smug and irritating than a non-caffeinated Jalil. Christopher beats Jalil there by a couple of minutes, actually, and snags a large-grande-whatever-sized mocha with the last of his college paperwork in hand.

“Forms,” Christopher says absently. “They’re due in… two days? Maybe tomorrow, whatever.” Christopher wrinkles his nose. “How loud do would you say I am, as a person? I mean, I’d kind of give myself a nine, but that’s because I’m a bit of a talker. I don’t think of myself as truly annoying, like people who quote Star Trek. Or sing off-key all the time. Or play Guitar Hero until five in the morning. So perhaps a six? Seven?”

Jalil rolls his eyes.

“Then comes the question of how many roommates I want…”

“Why is everything so complicated with you? Give me your forms.”

“Let me just –”

“I know your social security number, Hitchcock. If I wanted your WASP-y identity, I would have stolen it by now.”

Christopher sniffs and clutches the papers a little closer to his chest. “I’ll have you know there are plenty of people who would love my identity.”

Jalil tugs gently on the papers. “I’m just going to make sure you don’t spend next year sleeping in the commons. Because that just means you’ll end up in my room. I know you.”

“Aw, you do.” Christopher let go of the papers and doesn’t think about it again.

Then, because Jalil is an evil, conniving douchebag, he puts ‘David Levin’ in the slot for ‘requested roommate.’ Christopher doesn’t discover this until he shows up for orientation, lugging around the largest duffel bag known to man and a pile of bedding that would keep him warm through a nuclear holocaust, figuring his parents would drop off the rest of his stuff later. David’s facing away from the door, but Christopher is fairly well-acquainted with David’s backside at this point. He immediately plans to make Jalil’s life miserable. Miserable.

“Oh,” David says when he turns around. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m laughing, princess?” Which, okay, Christopher kind of is, at least on the inside, just because it’s so fucking ridiculous and Jalil is such an evil, closet yenta. Not to mention Christopher’s general reaction to stress is laughter anyway.

“Guess we’re meant to be,” David sneers, showing entirely too many teeth, and okay, Christopher kind of likes that about him, is that weird?

“Insomuch as Jalil is an evil, conniving douchebag,” Christopher shoots back, because it’s true, okay? David should know. Jalil could have other evil plans in place.

David tilts his head, and Christopher watches the metaphorical light switch on. “You lazy fuck. You couldn’t even fill out your own housing form?”

“I know, I know. I should have known there was an ulterior motive. I'll never let Jalil near paperwork again, I promise."


[and then sex! which I either write last or first, sorry you're missing out]

“Are we doing this?”

“Sure,” Christopher says idly. “Wait, what?”

David rolls his eyes while Christopher flicks him in the ear. “Sex. On a regular basis. Without beating each other up first. ‘Cause that shit’s gonna get old fast, living in the same room.”

Christopher thinks about it for half a second. No more getting his nose broken. Not to mention getting his dick sucked regularly.

He’s an idiot, but he’s not that much of an idiot, thanks.

"Maybe."

Which is a yes, of course, but David knows. He's not that much of an idiot either.

| |

College ends up being a lot like high school, with only a little more alcohol and not nearly as many people who know his name. 




 

“Fuck you.”

“Not so much lately, apparently.” And David half-sneers it, but the other half is sort of wry, sort of something else that Christopher doesn’t see much from David. Or maybe he just ignores when he does.

“What do you want from me?” David’s angling for something, and Christopher doesn’t know what it is.

“Considering I have your dick up my ass a couple times a week, it’d be nice to know you weren’t sticking it in every available hole on campus, that’s all I’m saying -- ”

“You sure that’s it?” Christopher asks. David gives him a look, but Christopher isn’t… he’s not exactly being sarcastic. He’s not sure what he is.

 



He goes to another party at Phi Beta Mu that weekend. Just when he’s about to close the deal with a just-the-right-side-of-tipsy blonde who is looking up at him, bleary-eyed, drunk, too much eyeliner, obviously enhanced physical charms are falling out of her top, Christopher gets a mental flash. And then he thinks that David’s probably still up, studying for his midterms, Mr. Way Too Serious.

and, wow, there is something really wrong with Christopher's thought process here. 




“Get lucky?” David asks smoothly.

Christopher waggles his eyebrows. “Not yet, Levin, not yet. But the night is young."


“You look tense.”

“Oh?” David says, and doesn’t even bother to look up from his book.

“Yeah. Hard test?”

“Hard enough.”

“Wanna take a break?” Christopher gives



“Dude, no one should be alone on Christmas. Have you never seen a Charlie Brown special?”

“Not all of us spent out childhoods in front of the boob tube, Hitchcock.” David twists.



but christopher stops sleeping with other people, thats for sure

david gets less broody. and christopher tries to keep him that way. but only because he doesn't want him going all homicidal and trying to murder christopher in his sleep, right?

no other reason

and david doesn't like christopher sleeping with other people. but that's only because he doesn't want to catch something from chris sleeping around with all those sluts, duh

and dude, why would chris spend time and money trying to pick up girls when he can just go home and sleep with David? no drama!

it only makes sense


"You haven't even slept with anyone else lately!"

"Have so!" There was that girl... oh. Oh, okay, except not. "I mean. Maybe not lately lately, but that's because David gets all broody. You think I want him going all homicidal and trying to murder me in my sleep?"

"Uh huh."

It's like April's trying to prove a point, or something. Christopher crosses his arms. “Why would I spend time and money trying to trick some skank girl into sucking my dick when I can go home and have David do it whenever I want?”

April rolls her eyes. “You are the last of the true great romantics.”

There is nothing romantic about it, Christopher sulks.




“Me and David are kind of, uh.” Christopher makes a flailing sort of hand gesture that suggests he and David are something like a windmill.

Galahad’s eyes widen. “Are you trying to tell me what I think you are?”

“I think? I dunno, I get nervous, and I couldn’t think of any way to say it that wasn’t really crude.”

“That’s a yes, then. Wow.”


oh david.

oh chris.

and they're just stupider and stupider until one day, like, YEARS down the line, one of them turns to the other -- where they are totally NOT cuddling in front of the tv -- and is like "uh, you know if you ever, like, went away, I would totally miss you and stuff?" and the other is like "yes, yes, shut up, frasier is coming on."