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Gay as F***

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It starts out as a one-time prank. A small box from eBay that Dallas doesn’t remember ordering arrives on Dallas’ doorstep, and when he opens it, it turns out to contain an XL neon yellow tank top with ‘GAY AS FUCK’ written across the front in large black lettering.

He brings it to Portia for inspection, because they’ve been hanging out a lot lately, and holds it up for her to see. “Do you remember me ordering this? Was I drunk? Who would this even fit?

Portia squints at the shirt in question, tilting her head to the side so her brown curls bounce, and a sudden expression of mischief steals across her features. “Antony,” she says. “It would fit Antony perfectly.”

Dallas looks at her. She looks at Dallas. They grin.

The next time Antony comes over to Marcus and Portia’s house for the soccer game, Portia and Dallas jointly present him with a gift-wrapped package. “Happy birthday,” they chirp in unison, beaming innocently.

"It’s not my birthday," Antony says, bemused, tearing open the package. He holds the shirt up and goes a very interesting shade of red as everyone else in the room stares at him and the shirt for a second and then completely loses it. Martín rolls around the floor as Marcus tries unsuccessfully to contain his laughter; Julian’s lips twitch very interestingly.

"Wear it, Antony," Dallas says, grinning. Antony glares daggers at him and mumbles something incoherent.

But he does, in fact, end up wearing the shirt very occasionally, though he always explains to anyone who’s within earshot that it’s only because he has nothing else clean, okay, he will punch them. Dallas and Portia always nod sympathetically and giggle hysterically once he walks away.

And somehow, after the first incident ordering random crap online for Antony becomes Dallas and Portia’s ritual. Every once in a while, they get together and spend a good portion of the night huddled around Portia’s laptop getting drunk, browsing eBay, and laughing their heads off.

"Do we need a semi-life-size stuffed lion? I’m pretty sure we need a stuffed lion. Look, it’s 50% off. Oh my god, what even is that expression, did the person who was sewing this even know what a lion looks like, that is terrifying. I’m gonna put it on his doorstep and ring the bell and run away.”

"Wait, wait, look, a gallon jar of glitter! We absolutely need that, no, Portia, don’t scroll away, we need this, I’m gonna try and make him do the ice bucket challenge with it—”

"I’ll go back to it, I swear, I just want to order these shuttershades first — look, they have ‘PARTY BRO’ printed across them, who would buy these things?”

"Apart from us?"

"That doesn’t count, we’re drunk and pranking a guy. Okay, I got a couple pairs of the shuttershades, we can put the extra one on his Chrysler so they can match, where was your glitter again?"

Antony accepts their gifts with the kind of long-suffering glare you wouldn’t think a guy like him could even produce. “You dicks are making fun of me,” he moans.

"What, make fun of Actual Shutter-Shade-Wearing Party Bro Antony Marks?" Portia says innocently. "Never. Cross my heart and hope to die."

"I hate both of you," Antony grumbles.

He never throws the lion out, though. Dallas and Portia are both kind of concerned about that.