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“It was real romance...and it took a minute but we’re really good friends now.” - BLH, 2020
“I need dick,” Brock sighs, poking Jose with his toe.
“I bet you do,” Jose don't look up from his Switch. His Venusaur is in the middle of a battle so he’s only half paying attention.
“Ew, shhh. I’m not a ho,” Brock pouts, scandalized, scrolling through Tinder.
“Mmhm,” Jose makes a doubtful noise. “Twinklehos.”
"You're more of a ho than me."
Jose don't dignify that with a response.
“I’m a serial romantic,” Brock says softly.
“You a tease.”
Brock makes an indignant noise.
Jose makes a noise of triumph as his Venusaur wins.
“Help meeee I’m horny,” Brock whines, waving his nasty big toe in front of the game. "Literally but also emotionally. I want a new torrid love affair."
“Nuh uh, get that claw away from me,” Jose swats him. Brock smirks back, because he’s an asshole.
"You emotionally horny?"
"Mmhm."
"Watch The Notebook."
Brock laughs and shakes his head.
“I wanna suck a nice dick. After having a nice dinner. With someone sweet and sexy. Look what I have to work with,” Brock turns his phone showing some fool on Tinder who disappointed him. “I’ve swiped every cute guy in LA. I’m down to the weird fuglies.”
“Maybe one of them is your soulmate,” Jose sasses, half sincere, half fucking with him, mischief glowing in his eyes. Brock gasps and pokes him again and Jose cackles loudly, pausing his game and pointing at Brock's phone.
“You never know, bitch! Maybe under the crusty beard he got an amazing personality.”
Brock raises an eyebrow.
“And a big dick.”
Brock sighs like a tragic heroine. “I’m gonna die alone.”
“Probably."
He starts cackling when Brock gets offended and kicks him. It dislodges Thackery, who was snuggled into Brock’s leg, purring while Brock petted him. Which was why Jose started playing Pokemon, cause watching Brock’s fingers curl in Thackery’s fur was damn distracting.
“Get him, Thackery, he’s being mean to me," Brock pouts.
Jose wrangles Thackery and rubs his ears before he leaps off the couch away from their shenanigans.
“You like being on your own,” Jose checks his phone, opening an email but only half paying enough attention to skim it. “You only here now ‘cause my needy ass wanted company.”
Brock hums. “No I wanted to see you too or I would have just said no. I’m not that nice.”
He smiles, all Brooke Lynn, and Jose pokes him back with his own toe for thinking he can get away with pulling that superior shit around him.
Brock catches his foot and holds it, like a cat with a toy. His thumb glides along the arch, pressing firmly, and Jose has to swallow a noise of contentment.
“You know I love hanging out with you,” Brock smiles down at the foot.
“Mmhmm,” Jose pretends to sound doubtful but he knows.
He can still feel the way they light up around each other, the way their whole bodies smile at each other, like always.
Just cause they ain’t fucking no more don’t mean that’s ever gonna go away. Just cause it don’t mean Brock’s the love of his life like he thought, just means they’re great friends, don’t mean they don’t still feel it, don’t love being around each other when they get the chance.
Brock’s thumb works against the sole of his foot absentmindedly.
“Anyway, bitch, you didn’t text me back for three weeks," Brock pouts. "So..."
“From the bitch who don’t respond to shit! I could leave a voice note that I got a week to live and your ass would message eight days later like ‘Hey’.”
He does an impression, very TwinkleToes, and Brock laughs, shaking his head. “And you used to get so mad at me! I can’t get mad too?”
“Bitch, when we was dating. That was different,” Jose looks at him like he’s crazy.
Brock shrugs, like that’s news to him, and that right there is one of the reasons they ain’t dating no more.
“Now if it’s three minutes, three weeks…you know how it is with schedules. I go months not seeing your ass, but when we do it's always a kiki.”
“Yeah,” Brock is swiping again with one hand, Jose’s foot trapped in the cage of the other.
“But that ain’t got shit to do with telling you to come over cause my ass was bored. Thackery was too quiet,” he jokes.
“And you don’t like anything quiet,” Brock murmurs, and when he looks up the bitch is grinning.
“Shady,” he pronounces and Brock nods his head proudly.
Jose sighs out loud when Brock's broad hand slides up his tight calf muscle. Cause if you let Brock get touchy ain't no stopping the ho.
He flushes, embarrassed, but Brock ain't paying attention.
“Pretty,” Brock is looking at his toenails. He pets the shiny white paint and Jose feels a pleased glow. “Do mine?”
His huge leg comes flying over and Jose ducks and swats it away.
“Nuh-uh.”
Brock pouts and the leg comes swinging back at him, foot inches from his face.
“Later!” Jose yells, to placate him, needing his whole body weight to push the leg away. “I’ma needa get myself together to tackle them toes.”
“Not the toes,” Brock giggles.
“The toes,” Jose snickers back.
They crack each other up over the dumbest shit. He can’t even explain why but the stupidest thing can feel hilarious with Brock.
He will paint them later. He just don’t feel like moving right now. And saying no is his natural reaction any time a ho commands him to do shit.
But he secretly loves when Brock steals his style. So he always helps him pick out chains, vests, nose rings, bandanas, or whatever else the bitch decides he wants to try look as cute as Jose in. It makes him proud to inspire a ho who’s so inspirational his damn self.
This ho in particular needs all the help he can get. If you don’t watch him he can go left into Sunday School Chic real fast.
He checks insta and his tags are a mess.
"You said something about me on Live?"
"Hm?"
"I keep getting tagged in the same video," he turns the phone, his tagged grid a row of Brock's face.
"Oh. Then probably."
Jose makes an annoyed tsk sound. He don't wanna tell Brock to stop talking about him, cause why would he want that? But the tags get annoying. He don't want future boos going to check out his pics and finding whatever bullshit his ex got to say instead.
"Well, I know you said plenty about me last week, so..."
"Hm. You wish."
When was that? Sometimes he gets carried away, he don't even remember what he says on these things, and everybody takes it so serious.
Outta nowhere Brock yelps and throws his phone at Jose.
"Bitch, the fuck?" Jose gives him the stink eye and throws it back at him, harder than necessary for the inconvenience.
"One of my matches started talking to me," Brock mutters, horrified. He shudders.
Jose frowns at him.
"On Tinder."
Jose rolls his eyes and opens another email.
"If you don't wanna talk to them why you on there? Ain't that the point?"
"Ug, no," Brock shudders again deeply, right along his spine. "I can't do human interaction right now."
"...what am I, bitch? A pillow?" Jose raises an eyebrow over the top of his phone. Brock grins.
"The cutest pillow," he runs his hands all the way up Jose's leg, folding forward to lie on him, cheek resting on his thigh.
Jose tries not to look impressed at his flexibility or shaken by the hot breath near his crotch, cause Brock would enjoy both too much.
"Can you talk to him?" Brock holds out his phone hopefully. "Let me know when he's ready to go for dinner?"
"And what you gonna do when you show up and don't sound nothing like me?"
"Probably just make out with him?" Brock shrugs.
"I thought you wanted dick," Jose gives him an unimpressed look. "Bitch, there it is. Go fetch."
This is why you gotta be careful trusting a word that comes outta this ho's mouth. He thinks he means them in the moment, and he gets you thinking he do too cause he's real good. Real persuasive. But he changes his mind so much his fuckshit ain't worth shit once you know how he operates.
"Not just any dick. I'm selective," Brock smiles, stretching back up from his forward fold, rolling his shoulders and stretching above his head. Jose looks away quick so he don't accidentally see something he likes.
"I only have so much socializing in me per day," Brock yawns. "And it's not much. Why waste it on someone I don't even know if I like yet?" he says, like it's reasonable.
"You wasting it now running your mouth," Jose quips, but secretly he can't help feeling pleased Brock is spending so much of his limited patience for other people on him today.
"Get some dick or don't. You needa make up your mind."
“I mean I love being alone...” Brock says thoughtfully, manipulating Jose’s foot into a point and flex, point and flex, point and flex.
“You sure like it quiet.”
Of all his girls he asked Brock to hang ‘cause he wanted a chill day and Brock delivered on quiet, as usual. Most of the past two hours has been Jose talking to himself out loud while Brock sprawls on the couch with his head in Jose’s lap, occasionally pinching his leg or his ass and telling him to shut up if Jose gets bored enough to start making up a song.
Even while they watched that British drama Brock wanted him to see on Netflix. Cause Brock knows if he wants to watch a show without live running commentary Jose is not the one to watch with.
“I like my space but I also like dick,” Brock pronounces proudly like the ho he is, “and good conversation."
"Flirting."
"Potato potato," Brock grins. “It’s nice to have someone when I’m in the mood."
“Bitch, you always in the mood.”
Brock’s flirty ass don’t even try to deny it, he just smirks and shrugs down into the couch.
“Your problem is you gotta stay in the mood for the same man,” Jose tries not to sound too judgemental cause Brock and his ways ain’t his business no more.
"Do I though?" Brock looks doubtful.
"Or don't," Jose shrugs, as though he didn't spend months wishing Brock could. Every month since that memory hurts less. It gets easier to just read Brock for it like any other Judy.
"Then don't be whining about your lonely spinster ass if you ain't even gonna try pick one and commit. You needa work that shit out at some point on one of these hos."
“Mmm,” Brock hums, noncommittal, like the bitch ain’t declared he’s in love with three separate men already this week. He probably couldn’t tell you their names now. But days ago he was in Jose’s dms gushing about romantic weekends away and what kind of husbands they’d be.
And the bitch wonders why Jose ain’t tripping over himself to reply to his messages.
"I'm making up for lost time," Brock's late bloomer ass pouts. "There are too many beautiful men in the world."
"So date one of them," Jose mutters, unimpressed, typing a quick reply to Jason.
"I just haven't met someone I like in a while."
"What, a day?"
"Ooo, bitch, the shade," Brock giggles. He sighs, lost in whatever daydream is floating round his dumb pretty head. “But also, like, love’s nice. Right?”
“Sure, Shakespeare,” Jose deadpans for his unpoetic ass.
“You know what I mean,” Brock pulls Jose’s foot into a point and keeps stretching it, tryna make it look like a ballet point against the laws of nature. Jose tries to throw him a look but he don’t even realize he’s doing it.
“I don't just want a man. I want the man," Brock shrugs, smiling. "It would be cool to fall in love. Do all that.”
Jose's gut clenches, but it's so faint now he hardly notices.
“She says this week," he jokes.
"What does that mean?" Brock asks shadily, but by the look on his face he knows.
"By the time you find your next victim you gonna want space again.”
“You never know. The next one might be the one.” Brock’s eyes light up, teasing, but maybe also hopeful.
“Ain’t no magical man gonna make you feel any different than the rest. Ain't no real life Ryan Goslings. Bitch, I should know."
"Then why do you keep trying to date them?" Brock grins, delighted.
He kicks Brock's shady ass for that, but it don't do much cause Brock's already holding his foot.
"You ain't gonna be satisfied with a man til you accept everybody got their flaws, including you, and, bitch, it’s okay. That's when it'll feel right and you gonna find someone you wanna stay with.”
Sometimes a bitch is wise and hos needa hear it.
Mama Ru signs off with it end of every episode but there’s a difference between hearing wise shit and when that shit sinks in.
Brock won't get it for years, Jose can tell. He got issues buried too deep in how his brain works that he ain't dealt with yet. Perfectionism, rebellion, control issues, a bunch of leftover claustrophobia and hurt and self-hatred, feeling not enough and at the same time like he's too good for everybody, a bunch of resentment and swallowed anger, determination that nobody is ever gonna make him do something he don't wanna do again, still chasing the person he never got to be soon enough. Some of that shit Jose is only just starting to notice now they're real friends and Brock don't act as cute around him, lets him see more of the messy shit.
But even if Brock ain't getting it any time soon, Jose always gotta try to help his friends. If he can get Silky’s fucked up head right, Brock can’t be impossible.
“You’re talking to a ballerina,” Brock frowns at his pearls of wisdom.
“Bitch your ass ain’t been a ballerina in ten years.”
“It’s a mindset.”
“Right. That’s what I’m saying. Get outta your head. If you wanna make it last with these boys you gotta be yourself. Don’t just be all cute with them, let ‘em in. Bitch, the good, the bad and the ugly…”
Brock fake-gasps. "I’m never ugly,” he sniffs, spine straight. He’s joking but that right there is the problem.
“Your pussy don’t smell like roses. Bitch, don't nobody's. You wouldn’t get tired of the hos so fast if you didn't spend all that energy tryna Maid in Manhattan them. Got them boys thinking you easy, breezy, beautiful. You giving charming as fuck for the one night but then you needa be on your own, sending their calls to voicemail, so you can be your grumpy, stressy ass self. Dating shouldn’t be like clocking in for your shift. Bitch, you need a man you can be like this with.”
He gestures at the spot on his couch where Brock has barely moved or said anything for the last two hours since he took an edible.
Brock looks down at the bag of kale chips balanced in his belly button.
“Well no one’s gonna love this.”
He tries to throw a chip at Jose. It lands on his own titty cause it's made of flimsy ass kale.
"You put on an act for guys all the time. You still won’t let me come over until you’ve done your hair and we haven't been dating for years.”
Jose blushes. “We ain’t talking about me.”
“You draw on brows to work out."
"My trainer got a boyfriend! I don't want them bitches straggly for my damn self, not for no man."
"I've heard you scream through a closed door when you put too much Listerine up your ass."
Jose's nose wrinkles in indignation. "Why you listening to that...?"
"Gay men are more judgemental than ballerinas. So don’t pretend you don’t act cute for boys as much as I do, boo. It’s just...being considerate of the person you’re with.”
This motivational talk is going left.
“Baby, at least my asshole ain’t clenched shut.”
Brock makes an indignant noise. Shit. He’s going in now 'cause Brock got him feeling defensive.
“You needa get it in that TwinkleToe head, ain’t nothing wrong with wanting a dick in your ass. Even if Canadian hos in ugly cardigans said different when your brain was growing. A big dick hitting right where you need it? Baby that’s a religious experience."
Brock snorts surprised laughter but he looks pissed.
"I see your ass posting these thirsty selfies. You needa stop daydreaming about it and get you some dick up in that ass so we don't all gotta look at that shit."
Before Drag Race seeing Brock's naked body on his feed was a damn treat. Now it's a weird little caught-off-guard knife twist in an old mostly healed wound.
"Butts are for pooping!" Brock looks as pissed as Brock ever gets, which is still pretty calm but his eyes are going cold and closed off, turning into Miss Ice Queen. "That's not in my head. It's a fact of life. Maybe everyone else is weird and I'm normal."
In some distant part of his mind Jose knows he shoulda shut up already, but he's still feeling some type of way.
"Naw, butts is for doo doo. But, bitch, pussy is for dick. And, baby, you can grow a pussy any time you want. Open the legs, open the puss, open for business."
He been tryna enroll Brock in the Vanessa Vanjie School For Bottoms ever since they crossed the line into more friends than exes. Only reason he ain't tried harder is it's a damn shame to deprive the world of such a good top.
"You forget, my mom and sister are both nurses..." Brock argues moodily.
"Bitch, you keep saying. That ain't a thing. You think there ain't no bottom had a mama who's a nurse?"
"Maybe not if their moms spent their 20s forwarding articles on how much easier you catch HIV with anal fissures," Brock says coolly.
He looks real grumpy now and Jose feels bad. He really gotta learn when to not run his mouth. He always takes shit too far accidentally.
“What I need is to not be psychoanalyzed by somebody who thinks pizza rolls are a meal,” Brock sulks, haughty.
“Bitch, pizza rolls are delicious.”
“They’re basically negative nutrition,” Brock is acting superior, tryna take the attention off of him. “You should come look at supplements with me in Whole Foods, I’ll tell you what to get. You’ll thank me when youre my age.”
“What, a hundred?”
Brock huffs, not quite a laugh but almost. Jose gets the familiar itch that ain't gonna go away til he gets a real laugh.
"I take my Pure For Men every day, bitch. I got myself together."
"Nutrition isn't just about having a clean ass."
Jose almost laughs out loud and catches himself cause he don't wanna give Brock the satisfaction yet.
"If it was I'd be head nutritionist. Bitch, all them other hos be lining up for their consultations."
"You sure would, baby." Brock laughs, shaking his head, good humor back on his face with a loose, fond, easy smile. “Just trying to help, boo. Even though you’re not helping me find a man.”
“Bitch, what you want me to do? You think I got some secret stash of mens over there in the corner? Come on out, hos, Brock’s thirsty! This time might be love!” he yells at his closet, smirking, pleased, when it makes Brock snort laugh loudly. Relief melts through Jose at the delight back in Brock's eyes, basking in the warmth of his laughter.
While he's distracted, Jose takes the opportunity to snatch his foot back from them wandering hands.
“For real, I don’t know where the good men at no more than you do. And you know I actually want that shit. Settling down, all the romance…”
"No you don't."
Jose raises an eyebrow.
"Bitch, we met? Remind me why we ain't married with kitties right now, cause I know it ain't my fault."
Brock giggles and shakes his head, eyes alight like he got a bone.
"You think you want loyal and reliable but really you want to be kept on your toes. I know you, boo," Brock looks way too pleased with himself, eyes gleaming.
Jose hates that that smug gleam still makes his stomach swoop.
"Tell yourself whatever you want, but you get bored as fast as me if they're not interesting. You want somebody to challenge you."
"You real confident about what I want, hm?"
"Mmhm," Brock bobs his head proudly, warm and flirty. "I know what you like, young man," He winks at Jose, playing. "Remember?"
Jose laughs but he worries he might also be blushing. He wants to touch his face to see if it's hot but he don't wanna be obvious.
"I remember we ain't talking about me," Jose mutters back, self conscious at how Brock sees right through him, even to the parts he ain't proudest of.
It makes Brock a good best friend sometimes. Other times it makes Jose feel too vulnerable getting real with a ho who's seen him with his guard completely down, at his neediest and least cool, someone he's literally had inside him. He don't get that intimate with most of his friends. He's seen Brock be embarrassingly sincere too but Brock don't care about that shit as much, he's less self conscious. Or at least acts it well enough that Jose buys it.
“Anyway I said I might wanna settle down,” Brock sounds doubtful, “...if it was with the right guy.”
“Who? He don’t exist.”
Brock smiles self deprecatingly, and Jose knows he’s right, even if Brock ain’t ready to hear it.
“Baby, if you get bored with everybody, the problem is you,” he levels Brock with a look.
Brock scoffs in indignation.
“Don’t get mad!”
“Start running big guy,” Brock teases, making it playful, grabbing his leg and squeezing it. “Big guy with all this big talk.”
Jose grins, relieved it ain’t getting serious. Sometimes he gets in real fights with his friends without even realizing he’s doing it. He’s passionate like that.
It's even worse with strangers.
It helps that Brock is the hardest person in the world to get in fights with. He’ll ignore you for weeks but he does anything to avoid actual conflict.
“Thought you was a little guy. Little guys don’t make threats!” He yells as Brock half heartedly tickles up his leg to his waist with one hand just to be annoying, snapping the elastic of his shorts against his belly and making him gasp in outrage.
When Jose elbows him away, Brock melts before his eyes. “I’m the littlest guy,” Brock pouts, and suddenly all 6ft 3 of him do become dainty.
“I need a sweet strong daddy to treat me right,” Brock mock-swoons.
“I don’t needa hear about that,” Jose's face screws up in disgust, seriousness accidentally breaking through.
"Oooo,” Brock’s eyes light up, teasing, delighted. "Jealous, Papi?"
Of course the ho noticed. Jose rolls his eyes.
“Bitch, of what?”
Brock laughs out loud.
“Far as I can see I’m the only one who got time for your bullshit."
“Daddies love me,” Brock insists, looking like an oversize version of the pouty teenage twink he never got chance to be with his weird ass upbringing.
“Yeah? Where they at?”
“I mean, there’s dick if I want, we've established that,” Brock sighs, throwing his phone across the couch. “I don’t know. I want a man I’m sure about. Somebody I’m excited to fuck, but also, like, talk to. See all the time. Grow with. Forget about everybody else for and still feel butterflies..."
"...Not the butterflies!"
"...Is that so much to ask?”
“Apparently.”
Him and Brock might be different in some ways but he sure gets that.
“You’ll find him,” Jose looks down at his lap cause he’s about to get too honest to keep looking Brock in the eye. “You know you real cute, bitch. Even when you ain’t tryna be. You could get anyone.”
His cheeks flush with the sincerity, like they always do. He can’t help it.
“Oh really? How cute, Papi?” Brock is delighted. He gives him seduction eyes, shimmying his shoulders. "Tell me more. How cute am I?
Jose rolls his eyes so hard Brock can probably hear it. The hot embarrassment of being too honest is gone quicker than it hit.
“Bitch. You know you're gorgeous. Sometimes you even nice too.”
“Only sometimes,” Brock grins proudly.
He's quiet for a second. When Jose looks up, Brock is looking at him.
"Sometimes I wish I could fall in love like you though. Where I'd do anything for someone."
"No you don't," Jose says sharply. He swallows. "It ain't always a good thing."
Brock gives him a sympathetic smile.
"You know I'm giving gay Oprah, serving you motivational realness, food for thoughts and all, but you don't needa change yourself for real," Jose frowns, soft and serious. "When he's the right one, it'll be right. Bitch, you perfect. You know that. You just gotta meet a man who does it for you."
"Nope. I've accepted my fate. I don't mind ending up alone. If it wasn't you, I don't know how anyone else will keep my attention," Brock jokes, but he looks kinda sad and thoughtful.
Jose blushes.
"Well, we had other shit going on," he shrugs, feeling weirdly shy. "Don't judge your whole life off that."
"You were the only actual boyfriend I've ever had," Brock almost blushes. "First and only."
"We hardly even saw each other. That whole year was crazy."
Sometimes he forgets that what was admittedly one of his most intense but also one of his shortest relationships was the longest, the only relationship in Brock's whole life. Some real first love, high school boyfriend, lifelong special bond type shit.
It used to be comforting, when he had a lot of feelings about it, to know he'd always be monumentally important to Brock in some way, even if it wasn't the way he wanted.
Now he ain't so in his feelings, it feels like a big responsibility. One he won't take lightly, even though they only ever gonna be friends now.
"Mmm. Special circumstances," Brock nods.
"Right. And my ass is high maintenance. I ain't no training wheels boyfriend."
Brock snorts a little giggle.
"You're really not, boo," he looks at him softly. "But you deserve it. You deserve everything you want."
"Bitch, I know!" Jose gives him an indignant look and Brock giggles. "Why you think I broke up with your ass?"
Brock laughs harder so he milks it.
"I could see the iceberg coming! I wasn't about to sit my ass down and wait to be ghosted! The slow fade. Just cause your awkward Canadian ass tries to avoid fights so much you never woulda done it yourself."
Brock smiles guiltily. He's still quiet.
"Don't stay pressed about us, Twinkle Toes. You know if we was meant to be we woulda made it work. No matter what. So clearly I ain't the ho for you," Jose says, even though it feels kinda wrong to say that out loud.
"One day you gonna find some chickenhead who is. And you can still come kiki with me when his ass gets too boring," he smirks, trying to cheer Brock up.
Brock smiles but it's kinda forced. In what feels like another lifetime ago Jose woulda kissed his cheek to distract him.
He clenches his teeth, silently mad at his brain for thinking of it, still, after all this time. He can think it all he likes but he ain't gonna do it. Even if Brock would probably like it.
"You just ain't ready to settle down yet. One day you will be. You only in your teens in gay years."
He tries not to be too mad that he met Brock's repressed late bloomer ass too early. He's proud to be a big part of his journey. But he knows the ho is gonna be ready for something real one day, even if he don't believe it himself yet.
Jose just can't wait that long. By the time Brock's ready to settle down he's gonna be happily married with pets doing home renovations. If he lets himself think about it too much, it really bums him out that the timing just wasn't right.
Brock's still all quiet and thoughtful. Jose's foot bounces and he feels the itch to make shit light again.
“For real, right now LA is the problem. I’m looking too. I been open. Open heart, open legs, you know me. Baby, ain’t no good men left in LA. Shit. Right now we both terminally single.”
Actually Jose's been talking to a beautiful Italian man in Atlanta, Prince Eric down, and he might fly out there next week to see him. It could be the start of something special. But Brock don’t need to know that. He wouldn’t wanna know if it was Brock. Even though the bitch constantly tells him about these boys anyway.
“And you’re very cute too,” Brock blinks them striking eyes at him, making Jose's breath catch, pinning him to the spot, not realizing the power he has.
He pats the fat of Jose’s cheek affectionately, like he’s a kid. Jose fusses and shrugs him off. He hates when Brock does shit that reminds him exactly how unsexual he thinks of him now.
He hates even more the dumb tingles he still gets over Brock finding him any type of cute.
The bitch needs reminding it wasn’t that long ago the full force of his considerable thirstiness was set on dropping his panties for him.
Even though he ain’t his man no more, Jose is as much of a man as he was when Brock used to gasp "Papi" wide-eyed on his knees, choking on his dick. Not some little pet he can poke and prod, thank you very much, bitch.
Even if Jose secretly enjoys the petting as much as he hates it.
Jose gets a mischievous look and decides to fuck with Brock.
“I already told you I was the greatest good you was ever gonna get. You shoulda believed my ass back then, before I got sick of your ho ways.”
Brock snorts. “You did tell me.” He gives his phone an unenthusiastic glance. "Tinder sucks."
"Mmhm. In person is better. You can feel what they giving. Help you sort the freakshows from the good hos."
"Bitch, yes!" Brock rolls so his head is on Jose’s stomach, snuggling into his side, throwing a heavy arm over him, and looks up at him with pleading eyes. “Come out with me tonight? Help me not be alone forever?”
“You think I wanna drag my ass out to a bar to sit and watch you drool over hooligans?”
Brock splutters a laugh, warm air ghosting across Jose’s waist.
“Hooligans?”
“Mmhm,” Jose nods, trying to suppress his smile. “Fools and hos. You needa work on your taste.”
The last couple chickenheads he met that Brock was "dating" actually seemed nice. Very chill, easy going, a lot of the things Jose couldn’t be for him. All into different random shit but interesting enough in their own ways. All of them had that magnetic calm sweet type of charm that puts you at ease, like Brock got. But Jose’s allowed to be a little salty and irrational about anyone who comes after him. Exes rights.
They never last long enough to really annoy him anyway.
Physically a lot of them remind Jose of himself in different ways. Sometime he lets that go to his head, likes to imagine some part of Brock is always missing him, even if it's his subconscious. But on his more sensible days he knows it's probably just Brock's type.
“So come pick a guy for me. Quick, while I'm feeling social. We can drink, dance, meet hotties with cute bodies...” the fool does a hopeful little shimmy up against Jose’s leg.
“You can do all that yourself.”
“I can’t go on my own,” Brock whines. “Nobody will talk to me. They’ll think I’m a bitch,” he pouts sadly.
Jose cackles. It’s true, if you don’t know what a softie he is on the inside, Brock’s outer shell looks cold and mean as fuck. It’s funny when you find out how sweet he really is.
“Pleeease? I’m shyyyyy,” Brock groans into his abs, pressing his face into Jose’s vest like he’s hiding. Immediately he jerks back and gags, sticking his tongue out.
“Why do you taste like Tom Ford?”
“Why you licking my clothes?” Jose laughs at the face he’s pulling.
“Why are you spraying it on your clothes?” Brock argues back. “You really don’t need to use this much, you already smell nice.” Brock looks up at him.
“Right, cause I spray my shit,” Jose educates him. “Watch out, I’ll spray you next.”
“Am I your shit?” Brock grins warmly. Jose laughs loud, surprised, like he always is when Brock makes jokes. He should be used to how funny Brock can be. But he’s so quiet and he says shit with such a straight face it’s still surprising.
“You some bullshit, we know that much,” Jose grins back.
“Pleaaaaase?” Brock pouts up at him, already knowing Jose is gonna say yes. “You have to come help me talk to boys like a human. You’re my LA best friend. It’s, like, your job.”
“LA friend?” Jose wrinkles his nose in disgust, running a hand absentmindedly through Brock’s curls, scratching his scalp like he likes.
Brock sighs and snuggles closer, nudging Jose’s vest up and running fingers over his stomach looking for blackheads like a reflex.
“Bitch! Best friend period. I ain’t tryna take Steve’s spot, but I better be number two.”
“You did put my toes in your mouth. Not many friends can say that,” Brock grins at him mischievously, and that’s enough to make him shove Brock’s head off his hip.
“Thank God I saw the light. You lucky I don’t got post traumatic stress every time you up in here poking me with them claws.”
Brock giggles.
“Forcing me to paint them!”
Brock giggles harder.
“I’ma do them orange and you gonna like it.”
“Noooo! I want them white like yours,” Brock frowns, earnest.
“You wanna match?”
“Mmhm,” Brock bobs his head, pleased. “This white looks so cool.” He takes one of Jose's hands hostage and inspects his matching fingernails, stroking them.
“White on you won’t look like this,” Jose wiggles his fingers. “You’ll look like a snowman.”
He starts cackling.
“Bitch, Queen of the North Pole!”
Brock snickers. He’s giving him the you’re crazy look but it’s the you’re crazy and I like it one, not the bad one.
"Queen of the stripper pole," he grins.
"Hm," Jose pulls a face and decides. “I’ma do yours black.”
“Nooo! Do them white. I’ll get a tan.”
“Your pasty ass needs one.”
It don’t, he looks good, like always. The bitch glows. But reading each other is what they do.
“I’ma do them black. Little subdued tease. Bianca del Rio style. You love that old whore.”
Brock hums, satisfied. Brock's found what he thinks is a blackhead and he’s squeezing the skin so hard Jose has to smack him away cause it hurts.
“I want Thai food,” Brock rolls back to his own space on the couch and sighs dramatically.
“So order! Bitch, you know my Postmates password,” Jose picks up his Switch, ready to get to the Gym. “Get me something I’ll like. Not too spicy.” He glances at the clock and does mental math. “Nothing heavy if we going out.”
“I’m getting you shrimp Pad Thai,” Brock mutters, stretching for his phone and scrolling the menu. “And you can share my spring rolls.”
“Make sure they’re…”
“Veggie ones,” Brock raises a brow at him smugly. “See, I take good care of you. I’m a good friend.”
“I tidy your shit. Don’t be saying I don’t do shit for you when you can find every shirt in your wardrobe,” Jose mutters, eyes on his game.
“I’ll take you finding me a man over hanging my shirts.”
“Well, we don’t always get what we want,” Jose clicks his tongue, distracted as he runs into a pokemon he ain't got yet.
“You’re mean,” Brock pouts, playing it up, catching sight of himself in one of Jose’s mirrors and turning his head side to side, fixing his curls where Jose ruffled them.
“Steve would never abuse me like this. I’m moving to Chicago.”
“Bye,” Jose says breezily, inwardly grinning, knowing the reaction he’s gonna get even before Brock makes an indignant gasp and kicks him.
Them ballet toes are unnaturally strong, it ain’t right.
Brock knows he’s only playing but Jose is such a Libra he's sensitive to even the possibility of making somebody feel bad from a joke. Just in case, his next joke is a sweet one.
“If we still single when we’re 40, I’ll marry you myself, bitch,” Jose says, flicking his eyes up from the game and smirking. “Who your number one now? Steve would never.”
Brock looks surprised for a second, then grins warmly.
“You’d never put up with me that long. Not if you had to suck these toes.”
“I ain’t sucking shit. I didn’t say that.”
Brock raises an eyebrow at him, so he amends.
“I ain’t sucking no nasty shit. Don’t get pressed about what I’ll suck, you wouldn’t be complaining. You already know my ass can keep you satisfied.”
“True,” Brock sighs nostalgically, “We were very good at that. Too bad about everything else.”
“Right,” Jose smiles tightly but there’s almost no bitterness left now, for real.
“But would you trim my nose hairs?” Brock trolls, grinning.
“Mmhm,” Jose hums innocently and almost topples off the couch attempting to stick his finger up Brock’s nose.
Brock shoves him away, laughing in the way that means he thinks Jose is insane, even though he was asking for it.
“And your nipple beards,” Jose snickers, plucking at the dusting of hair around one of the pink puckers, because the ho is lounging on his couch half naked, of course.
“Ouch!” Brock grabs his tittes protectively like a lady, throwing an accusatory look, tearing up trying to hold back laughter.
“Nipple beards!” He wheezes, like nobody ever made up a word before.
He catches his breath with a big sigh and Jose finds a wild Jigglypuff.
Brock goes quiet and thoughtful.
"MAHHHHH," Jose yells. Brock's so used to his bullshit he don't even flinch. "MAHHHHH! MAHHHHH!"
"What?" Brock looks at him like he's crazy, a hint of a smile.
"Battling a Loudred," Jose mutters. "Look at this bitch. MAH. MAH. MAH," he shows Brock the pokemon and the way it's bopping around with it's mouth open he can't help making the sound effects.
"You're a Loudred," Brock laughs.
"Naw, bitch, I'm Pikachu." Before Brock can argue he yells, "Pika pika pika!!!" at a truly earsplitting pitch.
"Wow. See, how could I not wanna marry that?" Brock drawls sarcastically, teasing.
"Baby, you should be so lucky," Jose pouts.
“When you’re 40 or when I’m 40 though?” Brock asks, sounding thoughtful.
“Not when you are! Bitch ain’t that next week?”
Brock laughs through his outraged gasp, clutching his invisible pearls.
“So when you turn 40?” He presses, as though Jose thought it through at all before that shit came out his mouth.
“Sure. You know this is only a hypothetical, cause ain’t no way I’ma be single,” Jose puffs up proudly. “I’ma be married with two cats and a puppy and a house in Palm Springs. Chilling with the retired hos. If you put the effort into it, you could be too, boo.”
“Maybe,” Brock sighs. He’s quiet for a minute and when he speaks his voice is still teasing, but soft.
“But if we’re not, you’ll marry me?” he looks at Jose over his phone, eyes shining warmly. “Me and my nasty toes?”
Jose looks up and meets his bright eyes and gets a sharp tingle of excitement he ain’t got around Brock in a minute.
They always flirt and shit, just playing now, cause that’s how it’s always been between them. That’s what happens when you date first and become friends after.
When you’re as naturally flirty as they are it's impossible to stop every impulse to tease each other, so a lot of them get through. Especially when they both real single or they get reminiscing too much about the past.
But he ain’t felt the feels that strong from the way Brock looks at him in a long time.
It's so much better than it was but it's still hard sometimes being around Brock and having to remind himself he don't want him. When he lets himself flirt and it accidentally goes too far that always makes it harder.
He looks back at his game and pushes the weird feeling away cause he don’t needa get back into that mindset and make things weird with one of his best friends. Not when their friendship is finally going well. It took a long time to get outta that head space to where they are now after they dated.
Jose wasn’t sure about being friends at first. He wanted to block and delete and move on when he was in his feelings. When he told Brock they couldn't keep dating how things were cause it was gonna make him start hating Brock, Brock got all wide eyed and concerned and he gave the ho two options: Start acting right or break up. For a while after he felt conflicted about it. He knew it wasn't fair to be mad at Brock for taking one of the options he offered, and being perfectly respectful and sweet about it, all reverent about keeping their friendship. But he was mad, and hurt, achingly disappointed, because he obviously wanted him to pick the first one. Brock's oblivious ass didn't get it and it felt too petty to say out loud. He hinted at it enough, and probably annoyed the hell out of him, but Brock still wanted to stay friends anyway.
Now he’s glad Brock made him promise they’d stay friends no matter what, and held him to it when the fuckshit went down. Even if it was confusing as hell and took a while to really get there.
LA can be tough when you ain’t got good friends around you. Though he can be a shady asshole when he wants to be, Brock is the best when you really need him, surprisingly funny, sweet and loving the more you know him, and a genuine good person at heart, which is rare in LA, even among girls Jose considers good Judys. Brock gives great hugs and massages, and he’s helpful and motivating with a bunch of shit Jose ain’t good at. And so fucking talented. Brock inspires him every day. He's the type of friend Jose never woulda got this close with if they hadn't dated. Plus his asshole ways are mostly just funny now Jose don’t gotta date him. Loveable in his fucked up way.
So Jose just shrugs.
“Sure, bitch,” and evolves his Machoke into a Machamp.
He pauses. “Well. You, yes. The toes might have to go.”
He purses his lips for comedic effect. Brock snickers.
“Not the twinkle toes!” Brock beams at him, delighted.
“The twinkle toe can stay,” Jose plays with one hand to reach over and pet the lucky star tattooed on Brock’s toe.
“All the other toes gotta go. We’ll keep this one.”
He can see Brock’s dumb fond smile in the corner of his eye.
“You’ll be a one toe ho,” he grins, acting out a wobbly Brock walking around on one toe without getting up, making appropriate wobbly noises and yelling ballet music, while Brock sits there and stares at him like he’s possessed.
Then he gets a message from Team Rocket that takes his attention. It’s quiet for a minute while he reads, Brock’s toes wiggling under his hand.
“Wait,” he adds. "Hold up."
Brock’s head snaps up in anticipation, looking serious. Jose looks up from his game.
“Is Pad Thai the one with peanut sauce?”
Brock snorts and shakes his head at him.
“So cultured, big guy.”
///
Eleven years later...
Brock is acting real weird the closer it gets to Jose’s birthday.
He's unnaturally excited about it. For any best friend, but especially for Brock. It’s like he can’t wait, like his ancient ass is the one turning 40 again.
Jose hopes he ain’t planning him a surprise party cause he already made plans to go to The Abbey. Shanjie booked them an area.
It's been noticeable for a couple months. Brock keeps staring at him when he thinks Jose ain’t looking. As if Jose wouldn't feel it down his spine the second Brock's eyes are on him. Some instincts never fade.
Brock’s suddenly interested in hearing Jose's thoughts and feelings about some real random shit. What does he think about corner sofas? Is he ready to get another cat? What are his mom and step dad doing for Christmas? Does he want a big traditional wedding or to elope on a beach? Jose almost wishes Brock would tell him to shut up one time so he'd know his best friend is still in there somewhere.
The past couple weeks Brock is always texting him too. Asking how his day was for no reason. Leaving long voice notes about nothing when they're away at gigs. Sending him even more cute memes than usual. Keeping conversations going when Jose is used to sending the last text.
Anybody who knows Brock knows something is up if Brock is punctually returning your texts.
Last week Brock decided to make him dinner and nearly burned the kitchen down all excited about cooking red lentil pasta.
“A preview,” he called it.
“Of what, bitch? Fire safety?” Jose asked and Brock just laughed and pulled him down on the couch, cause lately Brock’s been real snuggly when they watch movies.
The past couple times they went out Brock insisted on staying at his place cause, “your bed is comfy.”
“Only cause you can’t find yours under all your shit.”
But Brock wasn't even listening, talking about how “it’s not long now anyway”, all poignantly.
One of those nights they were home by 11. In what world that ain’t long til morning he don’t know. Even with the bitch waking him up at the crack of dawn to go hiking. Smirking, “you better get used to it,” like he was already planning to invade Jose's peaceful bed with his moose snores again.
When he wasn’t waking up to Brock on his wellbeing shit, Jose was waking up with Brock plastered to his back, morning boner shoved up against his ass.
At first he thought he was dreaming. In all the times he’s shared a bed with Brock you usually can’t get near the bitch without getting kicked away.
He can appreciate Brock gets real cuddly when he’s in the mood for affection, but for the sake of their friendship he don’t need to be reminded what that feels like.
And he really don’t need Brock to tease him when he sees he’s awake and start kissing and sucking on his neck, massaging him over his sweats, grinding against his ass, giggling like it’s the most fun they ever had. He had to jump outta bed and pretend he wanted to go on a hike with him to distract the horny bitch, cause he didn’t wanna make a big thing about it.
Brock’s line for what’s cool between friends is a lot further than his. If Jose didn’t stop it at pecks, they’d be making out, like Brock does with everybody else, on the regular.
But despite the front he puts on, Brock is real sensitive. Jose don’t wanna call him out and upset him. Or freak him out thinking he’s getting feelings or some shit and make their friendship weird after all this time.
It really ain't fair after all these years he still gotta fight against himself to not just melt into whatever Brock's giving for as long as he wants to give it.
Ignoring it is best, cause he knows Brock ain’t giving it a second thought. After they woke up together and Jose dragged his ass up Runyon Canyon, Brock was asking if he wanted to get breakfast and making him film his pouty ass posing for his brand deals and push on his back for his stretches like everything was normal.
The weirdest thing was about a month ago when Brock made Jose let him measure his hand, wrapping the tape around his finger, and wouldn’t tell him what it was for.
“You’ll see boo,” he smirked, conspiratorial, like it was something Jose should be able to guess.
He’s half expecting some kinda surprise birthday costume that got gloves. Except there’s no show on his birthday and Brock hates costumes for anything that ain't drag so his best guess of forcing him into some costume Brock thinks is funny don’t seem likely.
///
The morning of his 40th birthday Brock shows up at his door with balloons and breakfast.
“Happy Birthday, old guy!” he beams, excited.
“YASSSS! Come on, balloons!!!” Jose yells so loud Brock winces, because it’s his birthday. If you can’t be loud as fuck on your birthday, when can you?
He's excited too. He wasn't expecting friends over til later. And he definitely wasn't expecting this much effort from Brock.
“You ain’t the mailman but, baby, I'll take the package!”
Brock don’t give his baffled quiet look or get shady about Jose being loud and annoying. He grins brightly, all 6ft 3 of him fond and entertained in his doorway.
“You staying?” Jose looks Brock up and down, tryna figure out if he’s stopping by on the morning hike or made the trip especially. Since Brock wears the same nasty old sweats every day no matter what, it’s impossible to tell.
Brock stretches lazily. His shirt rides up and Jose quickly looks away from the cut of his hips and the trail of hair leading to his panty line. Those sweats ain't secured for hiking. They're barely staying up.
"Mmhm. I can't believe today is finally here," Brock grins at him like it's Christmas morning.
"Bitch, I know!" Jose grins back, being careful to look no lower than Brock's face. His face can be tempting too if you look directly at it too long, like staring into the sun, but right now it's the safest option.
It's kinda weird how excited Brock is considering it's his day, but he'll take all the hype his friends wanna give.
“Is that Brock?” his mom calls from the kitchen.
Brock freezes in surprise, and his face falls.
Which is definitely weird, because he loves Jose’s mom.
“Yep. Hey Bell,” Brock calls back.
"Baby, get your fine ass inside!" Jose yells when Brock just stands there frozen, giving deer in headlights.
Brock slips in past Jose, distracted, brushing up close, not waiting for him to move.
Jose forces himself not to think about the press of abs, the rub of the bulge loose in his sweats, the fingertip touch of big hands moving his hips to pass.
It's irresponsible to go sliding up against your friends when you got a body like that.
“Hey Brockie! I'm making my omelette for the birthday boy. You wanna eat with us?” his mom calls.
“Sounds good,” Brock is shoving something in his pocket Jose can’t see past the takeaway bag and the “old pussy” cat balloon and “flirty 40” number balloon Brock hands him, looking sheepish.
“This is cute,” Jose tries to give the balloons a suspicious raised eyebrow but he can’t help smiling at them fondly.
It’s real cute. Way too cute for Brock. He cackles out loud when he reads the balloons. Brock ain’t loud about it but the bitch can be funny as hell when he wants to be.
“I...um...brought brunch. Huevos Rancheros and French Toast,” Brock holds up the takeaway bag awkwardly. “I guess that was dumb, you probably don’t want carbs on your birthday...”
He got spots of red on his cheeks.
“Okay, handsome, put it in the fridge, I’ll eat it later if he don’t want it,” his mom calls, oblivious that anything is weird. “I love me some carbs, any day of the week.”
“So why you here bright and early, bitch? Couldn't wait to bring me my present?” Jose smirks, eyes darting curiously to the shape he can half-see in Brock’s back pocket. It looks kinda small to be anything good, but he ain’t got no great expectations from Brock after years of well-intentioned but usually shitty presents.
He makes a move to grab for it and find out.
“No,” Brock’s eyes go wide and he steps back, alarmed. “Um. Nope. I forgot it.”
Jose raises an unimpressed eyebrow.
At the rudeness of being avoided, the weirdness of Brock suddenly acting like they have any sense of personal space between them, but most of all the indignation that he’d drag his ass all the way over and forget the present.
“Uh, oh. Someone in trouble,” his mom tuts, coming in from the kitchen.
“Brock, baby, your best friend only turns 40 once,” she points at him with her spoon.
“You remember he got you that embroidered jacket for yours? I helped him choose it. Don’t make me regret those two hours at Neiman Marcus.”
Brock smiles tightly but his mom ain’t done.
“...Don’t get me started on the week of ‘Ma, what you think about this for the inscription’. Every day...”
“Ma, leave him alone. I don’t care what he got me,” Jose rolls his eyes for Brock’s benefit. His mom’s being embarrassing. He shouldn't have to deal with this shit at 40, and he never wants her to make one of his friends feel uncomfortable. Even though he did kinda expect something thoughtful from Brock. Even if it was shitty. He expected him to at least try. He knows well enough by now how Jose feels about meaingful presents.
“I got you something you’ll like, boo,” Brock insists, smoldering with icy intensity. "I think you're gonna like it a lot."
Jose warms at Brock caring as much as he hoped, even as he seriously doubts Brock's confidence in his present choosing.
“It’s just... I’ll give it to you later,” Brock glances at his mom and gives him another intense look, like that’s supposed to mean something.
Jose just stands there, a confused 40 year old with his mom and his nonsensical best friend. This is his life.
“Happy Birthday big guy! Are you having a good morning?” Brock wraps him in a hug, like he needs to be touching him. At least it’s more like Brock to be cuddly than all weird and nervous around him.
He smacks Brock’s hand away when he stays curled around him like a cape and tries to pick at his shoulder. He can’t be a meditational human stress ball when he gotta look cute on his birthday. Brock allows himself to be shoved away but he smacks Jose's ass sharply, smirking when Jose gapes in surprise, mouth dropping open.
Where the fuck did that come from at eleven am?
His mom brings out the omelettes and asks Brock what’s new with him, if he got any special men in his life.
Brock throws him a panicked look, like he wants to know what to say.
As though Jose knows who he’s fucking these days. He stopped trying to keep up a long time ago.
Whatever his face does in response makes Brock even weirder. He gets real awkward, sitting down and immediately standing up again.
“I, um, have to go, sorry. I forgot I have a call…”
Brock's jumpy ass picks the omelette off the plate with his bare hand and stuffs half of it in his mouth in one wide bite.
‘Wow this is so good, Bell, thank you so much,” he chokes around a mouthful of egg, swallowing fast and finishing the rest in another giant bite.
“You welcome baby,” his mom looks at Brock like he gone crazy, not totally managing to hold back her laughter.
Jose tries not to stare at the stretch of Brock’s mouth and the movement of his throat, cause he don’t needa be thinking about his friend like that. Especially when his friend is in the middle of some sorta psychotic break. But it’s kinda mesmerizing.
He sure can fit a lot in that mouth.
But he already knew that.
Brock wipes his greasy hand in the side of his sweats, making Jose and his mom wince. Jose pushes past him to get the door so he ain’t leaving eggy handprints all over his pink walls on his way out, the animal.
"You want some alone time with that omelette?" Jose gives him a what the fuck look in the doorway.
Brock shakes his head, cringing, radiating anxiety.
"That was so awkward, I'm sorry. I didn't know what to say so I just ran!"
He's leaning in and talking quiet, glancing over at Jose's mom like he don't want her to hear.
"Bye baby!"
She's sat there watching them like a telenovela.
"I didn't know your mom would be here, I'm sorry."
"You can stay," Jose raises his eyebrows, cause since when has Brock been weird around his mom? Usually it's him tryna get the two of them to act more ladylike.
"After that?" Brock looks at him flatly. "No thanks. I'm gonna go overthink it for the next hour and take a Xanax."
He smiles self deprecatingly when Jose laughs at him.
“See you later though?” Brock leans even closer, reaching for his hip, looking like that’s supposed to mean something.
Jose don’t get why Brock is being so extra about his birthday drinks, and his mom is now in the middle of yelling a story about her friend at the mall, so he just smiles brightly and says, “Mmhm. Thanks for the balloons, bitch.”
He blinks, surprised, puckering on instinct, when Brock leans down and kisses his mouth. Just once, gentle.
Brock’s always kissy but it just feels...different than usual.
For one thing it’s the middle of the day and they’re both sober.
Not just that, the way Brock's looking at him makes him feel...
He shakes his head, wipes the egg grease off his lips, tries to shake the feeling of Brock’s lips pressing against them.
He forgets about it when he kikis with his mom, laughing at her shenanigans, looking through his birthday tags to repost, enjoying her home cooking as the omelette melts in his mouth, full of cheese, just how he likes it.
Except then Brock texts all day. Asking how he’s feeling, what he’s doing, what he got for his birthday, even wanting every detail of his mom’s stories about the Lancome girls.
It’s starting to freak him out. He hopes Brock ain’t working up to telling him his middle aged ass got months to live.
In the afternoon Brock calls and asks if he should come over, soft and breathy into the phone.
He already knows they got plans for pre-drinks with their best friends. Unless he forgot or wasn’t listening when Jose told him, which would at least be more like the Brock he knows and loves.
Jose don’t yell at him for forgetting, just says sure, hoping Brock won’t be acting weird by then. He tells Brock Shanjie, Heidi and Silky and their men are coming over at six.
So he’s real confused when Brock shows up at four with a bottle of champagne and a bouquet of roses.
“This my present?” he asks with raised eyebrows.
“Nope, silly,” Brock smiles fondly like it’s the cutest thing he ever said, handsome face crinkling in the couple spots that still move.
“Just a little treat for my birthday cutie. Don’t like flowers now, old guy?” He teases.
“No, I like ‘em.” Jose feels self conscious, cheeks flushing, brain stuck on the soft way Brock said my.
He don’t know why Brock is acting but he can’t help the pleased feeling that swoons through him when he takes the flowers. He’s always loved getting flowers from boys. Even if the boy in question is just Brock.
Brock who’s watching him smile at the roses like Jose is the most captivating thing he ever saw.
“You early,” he accuses, confused, looking for a vase.
“You told me to come,” Brock looks at him funny. “I thought you wanted to do it now.”
He comes up blank as to what the fuck that could be.
“Do what?”
“Are you drunk already, Papi?” Brock beams, tilting his head like Jose is the cutest again.
“No,” he says, softer than he meant to.
Brock ain’t called him that in years.
Jose’s stomach is swooping at the looks Brock keeps giving him. He don’t want it to but some shit is just biology.
Jose is used to it after over a decade. The thing that will always be between them, that they know they’ll never act on. That weird power Brock got over him and he got over Brock.
He can usually ignore it. Sometimes he forgets about it for a long time, even when they hang out every day.
But when he least expects, it can bloom up, so strong it surprises him. He has to summon all his willpower to kick it back. Remind himself all the reasons he banned himself from that fuckshit.
Him and Brock were never meant to be a couple, they know that now. They’re both hopeless romantics but in different ways. They were always supposed to be best friends. That’s why they felt so important to each other. They just didn’t know it back then, blinded by their dicks and the heady rush of summer romance.
But it worked out. They’re best friends now. That’s why they came into each other's' lives.
He just gotta remind himself sometimes because his dumb body thinks it feels so right being close to Brock, trying to make Brock’s eyes light up, the way Brock’s skin smells at the bottom of his neck when you hug him. Instinctively it’s so natural to him, to both of them. He knows Brock gets them moments too, he feels it from him sometimes and does his best to help keep things friendly til it passes.
Whatever he's feeling from Brock today, though, is some new shit. And he don’t like to tell the bitch often cause his ego don't need it but Brock is too cute. It’s a liability. He is one of the only bitches who's somehow managing to get more damn handsome the older they get. It’s annoying as hell.
At least Brock's always complimenting him too, so the feeling’s mutual.
So when Jose's stomach flips or his heart flutters over some look or touch or moment of dropping his guard his rational brain gotta remember how much it would fuck up their friendship if they ever let the flirting go too far. He don’t often use his rational side, but the bitch is up in there.
Brock flirts as natural as he breathes, so it’s mostly on Jose to shut it down when they push it to dangerous territory. Jose is a flirt too, easily encouragable, and both of them are worse when they're single. But Brock don’t even realize he’s doing it, how much it affects people. Brock would never take it far enough to fuck up a friendship, he's just playing. He just don't know what he does to you. He’s like them killer mermaids sitting pretty and drowning boats. Jose knows he don’t mean to. The sweet dumbass just gets over affectionate when he’s excited. Or horny. Or bored. Or sad. Or... all the time, pretty much, but it’s okay. Jose puts up with his flirty ass anyway cause he loves him.
It ain’t easy being the sensible one.
Like right now. The way Brock is acting is tempting as hell. And since he was a kid good behavior ain’t never been Jose’s strong suit.
“You look so good, baby,” Brock is all up in his personal space, fingering the hem of his shorts, fingertips grazing his thigh.
Jose raises his eyebrows.
“This ain’t what I’m wearing tonight. Bitch, this is just my gym shorts.”
Brock blushes and shrugs.
“Can’t I still think your ass looks very good in them?”
Brock’s big touchy hand slides around his hip, squeezing a hand full of ass like he got the right to.
“Bitch! You can think it…” Jose walks away fast, before his hips start rocking into Brock and he clings to his shoulders.
He gives Brock a what the fuck is up with you look over his shoulder as he goes to change.
Brock giggles and follows him into the bedroom.
“Enough with the fuckshit, baby, I gotta shower,” Jose grabs his shit and heads to the bathroom.
If Brock’s type A ass wants to be two hours early to the party, that’s his problem. It ain’t about to interrupt Jose's getting ready routine. Not when he wants to look fine as hell for his birthday.
“Want company?” Brock drapes his tall self against the bathroom door frame, smiling encouragingly.
Jose laughs loudly and shuts the door in his face.
He gotta give it to him, Brock got one hell of a straight face. He looked genuinely sincere for a second.
"Well, think of me in the shower," Brock calls loud enough to carry through the door.
It’s getting so over the top, maybe all the weirdness is Brock trying to be funny.
Jose forgets everything when the shower stream hits his shoulders, relaxing, ‘cause, bitch, he deserves it.
He does his full flavorsome douche routine, making sure his ass is extra fresh so he can be ready for birthday shenanigans.
He ain’t big on one night stands but he wants the option to be daring the first night of his 40s if it turns into a big night. You never know when you might meet the one. Even if he ain't washing his ass for his future husband, at a certain point, everybody needs a little dick now and then. He is long overdue for a healthy serving. He prefers meeting men at the club than on apps so he can feel out what they're giving, filter out the freakshows and the ones who ain't funny, plus he knows he’s gonna look real cute tonight. He won't force it unless it feels right though. Sex ain't worth it if it don't feel right, ain't even that good unless it's with the right person. A lot of nights he goes out ready for love and comes home by himself over going home with just anybody. But you gotta be open to it to find the one.
While he plucks and shaves and douches to perfection he sings along loudly to the Birthday Divas playlist Silky made for tonight. Distantly he hopes Brock ain’t messing up none of his shit or eating all his snacks.
He gets a surprise when he comes out with a towel around his waist to find Brock sprawling across his bed like a centerfold, watching him heatedly.
“You just been lying here? Listening to me wash my ass?” he blinks at him incredulously.
Brock smiles, placid and oblivious.
“And sing. I hope you’re not bringing out another single,” he smirks, enjoying the opportunity to tease him way too much. “Bitch, I knew you were loud, but that was a whole new level of pain for my delicate ears.”
He touches them gently. Jose scoffs an indignant noise.
“Ain’t shit about you that’s delicate.”
He knows that ain’t true even as he says it. Brock moves his shoulders in one of them graceful ballet type ways, smugly proving him wrong without saying a word.
“I don’t gotta take this abuse on my birthday,” Jose jokes, too flustered for a better comeback.
“Sorry baby,” Brock pouts, reaching for him. “Want me to make it up to you and your clean ass?”
His eyes shine with wickedness and Jose chokes on his tongue.
"Or did you want me to come in there with you like I used to? I remember how much you used to enjoy me in the shower..."
Jose splutters out loud.
This a lot, even for them. Brock probably don’t realize how sexy he’s being. Jose turns his back to him, looking for pants while he composes himself.
“Bitch…” he mutters, hoping that’s the end of it. "You such a Pieces. Love that water..." he tries to make this talk slightly less dangerous but he can't think of anything except him and Brock under the shower stream, chasing drops of water with their tongues.
He forcefully clears his brain and chooses his cutest short shorts. Just cause his ass is 40 don't mean he can't rock coochie cutters.
When he dares peek over his shoulder Brock don’t look sorry at all and he don’t look done. He’s still giving him a hungry look. Like he’s a snack and it’s snack time.
Jose turns and cocks his hip. He gives him a what the fuck are you doing look, scared to say more cause he don't know what Brock will say back. He don't trust that if Brock says another something sexy he can function enough to respond.
Brock beams like this a fun game they’re playing. He looks Jose in his towel over, waiting patiently.
If Jose says something he'll be the one making it weird. This ho obviously thinks it's funny.
Well. They’ve seen each other naked a hundred times. Not for real, in private, in a long time, but he ain't got time for no coy bullshit. He only got 45 minutes to get ready and he ain't even started on his mousse.
Jose shakes his head, tuts, and strips off in front of Brock, throwing the wet towel at his thirsty ass to break the tension.
Brock laughs when the towel smacks his face, but it don’t break shit.
Brock drops the towel on the ground and lies there looking Jose over, unnervingly quiet.
Jose’s cheeks flush. He ignores them and pretends they’re not.
“Oh,” Brock says pointedly, dragging his eyes all the way up Jose's body.
Jose’s stomach squirms and his cheeks get hotter. He ignores them even fiercer.
"It's been a while, Papi," Brock sounds warm and interested but he don't dare look at his face.
He feels Brock appraising every part of him and tries not to care how much weight he put on since the last time Brock got such a good look. Getting old fucks with a bitch’s metabolism. Ain’t fair the only ho who gets in better shape the older they get is judging him like a prize turkey.
“Cute jock,” Brock’s eyes linger on his ass as he watches Jose fumble to cover his dick before it starts twitching from all Brock's attention and this shit gets real embarrassing.
“The filling is good too,” Jose purses his lips, tryna make it less awkward by being funny.
He arches to show off, cause if he’s getting stared at he's gonna look his best no matter who's looking. At least middle age made his ass thick.
“All those cookies,” Brock grins, thirsty as fuck. On somebody less handsome, the unapologetic thirst would not be cute. But on Brock, like everything, it’s somehow alluring.
“Ready for someone to take a bite,” Jose tosses back automatically. A reflex, a habit.
“You like biting? That’s new,” Brock smirks and Jose loses the battle with playing it cool.
“Bitch,” he can hardly look at Brock, picking up the same three shirts and putting them down again cause his brain can't function when he knows Brock is watching him like this. “You feeling some type of way tonight hm?”
“I really, really am,” Brock smolders, delighted, spread all over the duvet like melted butter.
“Well your horny ass gonna help me choose a shirt or what?” Jose shakes himself, trying to clear the heavy, sexy feeling that oozes outta Brock and wraps around him, drawing him in. Tryna remind himself, remind them both, where the boundary of friend behavior is.
“White,” Brock stretches his arms above his head, making it look graceful. The movement makes his own leopard shirt ride up, revealing his snatched waist, and fall open, showing his chest.
Jose tries not to stare.
It’s Brock’s favorite shirt when he wants to look hot. It’s a hundred years old and probably only been washed about three times since the bitch got it. But Brock always looks dangerously good in that shirt. Probably cause it’s so ancient he used to wear it back when they dated so it reminds Jose how he used to feel about Brock then. That overwhelming awe.
If he’s wearing it tonight Brock must wanna find a man to play with when they go out. Maybe that’s why he’s acting so extra. Warming up for the unsuspecting hos at the club.
"White?" he raises an eyebrow. "That ain't a shirt."
“Any white one. You look handsome in white.” Brock smiles fondly at him.
“Yeah?” Jose looks down and frowns at himself. He don’t know what to say back. All the teasing fuckshit that usually rolls off his tongue ain’t coming. His brain is enjoying the attention too much. Stupid brain, listening to his dick instead of sense.
“Mmhm. My handsome guy,” Brock rests his head on his hand like a teenage girl in a picture, beaming with pride.
Before Jose can ask what the fuck that’s supposed to mean, Brock has crawled across the duvet like a leopard and is standing behind him, graceful fingers plucking at his buttons.
“Want me to do you up?”
He rests his chin on Jose’s shoulder, looking at them both in the mirror.
“You wanna do me?” He can’t help himself. Brock got him feeling some type of way.
Brock looks down and smiles to himself like a maniac. He looks up, so soft and pleased he almost seems shy, and does what he thinks is a wink at Jose.
“Always.”
His hips rock against Jose’s from behind, pressed up against him, one playful roll that makes Jose’s jaw drop.
“Do you remember how good I do you?”
Jose blinks in shock, mouth hanging open.
"You are being the most..." he manages, embarrassed how rough his voice sounds.
Brock grins another big soft smile to himself and buttons Jose's shirt carefully from the bottom, holding Jose’s eyes in the mirror, pasted to his back as though this a normal thing the two of them do. A wall of tempting muscle behind him.
"Wait. Stop," Jose says, mad at his voice for shaking.
Brock freezes in the mirror, shirt half buttoned, wide eyed, smooth confidence faltering. When he takes a step back Jose feels cold, worries he made Brock feel bad. Quickly he adds,
"You know I want my titties out for my birthday."
He smiles, soft and encouraging. Brock giggles and melts with relief. He's instantly pressed up against Jose again, holding his hip confidently.
"Of course," he shakes his head fondly. "Very sexy." He rubs the exposed skin of Jose's chest, tracing the swirls of his chest piece. It's wild to watch Brock's hands on him in the mirror. He's always loved Brock's hands. Jose feels electrocuted when he brushes a nipple. Shit. Why did he do that? He shoulda let him stop. Even if it was awkward.
Brock catches Jose's chin and turns his head. He dips his face close, smelling his neck, humming softly. As if he don’t know what Jose smells like. As if he ain’t borrowed his cologne any time Jose decides he needs more and spritzes his unwashed ass. The only bad thing about becoming Brock’s best friend is it puts you in the category of people he decides he don’t need to shower or put on deodorant for.
“You look so good, Papi,” big hands circle his waist. “Real sexy.”
“Mm...you are,” Jose swallows heavily, not even sure what’s happening anymore. He feels like he’s drowning in temptation.
He catches Brock’s eyes in the mirror and they’re so intense he wants to look away. They're that blue ice that leaves him speechless, like they used to be when they first met.
He feels a fast thump against his back that ain't his own heart, so it must be Brock’s.
Except Brock don't get nervous with him.
Then again he ain’t usually pulling this fuckshit.
Jose forces himself to focus on his own reflection. He don't know what the fuck is up with Brock today but he knows it's on him to make this normal. He tries to block out the nerve endings screaming everywhere Brock is touching him and assess his birthday look. He tilts his head side to side and frowns at the shirt and shorts combo.
"I dunno, bitch. You sure I ain't..."
"Your head is in perfect proportion," Brock hums, matter of fact, warm and reassuring.
It washes over Jose, with pleased surprise that Brock knew exactly what he was worried about. And Brock's shady ass don't lie. If he was looking like a bobblehead, Brock woulda told him.
Brock flicks his earring. “This is cute too,” he’s smiling so warm Jose can feel him glowing into his neck.
“Thank you,” Jose tries to say, but it comes out more like a stuttered sigh. Shit. He needs to move away and go get his mousse.
With no warning, Brock kisses the tattoo on the side of his neck, a firm press he feels down to his toes.
“I can’t believe you got this,” Brock murmurs fondly, lips hovering over it. “It’s so fucking stupid,” he whispers affectionately.
Jose chokes, wanting to argue, but he’s overwhelmed, all he can do is rock back into him and try not to melt into the floor.
"Papi, you're so sexy," Brock's lips trail across his throat to the top of his chest tattoo and he kisses there too. "I've been waiting to kiss these," he follows the swirls at the top of Jose's chest with soft lips. "I always did love a man with tattoos."
He sounds so sincere it's like Jose is dreaming. He strokes Jose's sides, almost squeezing. Jose breathes hard through his nose, concentrating with everything in him not to get hard cause Brock don't know what he's doing to him. If he did and Brock saw Brock would tease him so bad he wouldn't be able to look him in the eye for weeks.
"Stop biting your lip," Brock's thumb gently frees it from Jose's teeth, where they clamped down trying to control himself. Jose gasps an embarrassingly pleased noise and Brock looks delighted.
Brock knows he's trying to stop biting it. He been good lately but that shit went out the window along with his last brain cell a couple seconds ago.
Brock's fingers curl under his chin.
The pad of his thumb smooths the bite marks and Jose's whole ass heart flutters.
"Unless you really do like biting now," Brock smiles, wicked and tempting, eyes fixed on his mouth like he's about to try it and see.
It all feels so surreal Jose wonders if he slipped while he was douching and smacked his head on the bath and this really is a dream.
That train of thought gets cut off when Brock spins him around, hands on his waist. He's inches from a creamy muscled torso draped in leopard print and when he dares look up Brock is watching him, happy and enticing. He’s so damn handsome. Even old as fuck, he still looks so good. His shirt is falling open and Jose can feel the heat from his chest like he’s the sun.
"Want me to kiss it better?"
Jose can't remember words. He can't focus on anything that ain't Brock watching his mouth like he's about to pounce.
He looks like the world’s biggest snack. The only white ho with lips. Soft and patient, the worst type of temptation...
And then the doorbell rings.
“Damn,” Jose shakes himself like he’s coming up from hypnosis.
Getting caught up in this shit with Brock is dangerous. Feeling up his best friend might be a way for Brock to kill time til his horny ass gets to drink with trade but that shit felt too real for him to be cool about Brock’s little exploration of his body, the inspection nobody asked for.
It ain't Brock's fault. Jose's impulsive ass encourages it in the moment. But he gotta put his foot down. Gotta not get himself into situations he already knows are gonna fuck with his head. His 40 year old ass should know better.
Brock giggles and keeps a hand on his hip as they go let Heidi in.
“Good timing, bitch. We needed the interruption!” Jose announces loudly, trying to sage the weird juju, make sure it’s all a big joke so it don’t settle under his skin and bother him.
“Oooo what we miss? Don’t you worry, baby, the party is here! Make way for Mr and Mrs Gap,” Heidi and her man hug him enthusiastically, handing over a shiny gift bag because some of his friends know how to act right. Brock’s been early and touchy but Jose still ain’t seen no present from the bitch.
“Don’t worry, boo. We’ll do it later. We have all the time now,” Brock says warmly in his ear, nudging him while Heidi is hanging her jacket, giving him a conspiratorial smile.
The fuck does that mean? What he gotta try and avoid later?
Shangie and her boo are coming up the path behind Heidi so he don’t get to ask.
He don’t know what woulda happened if their friends didn’t interrupt. Since him and Brock became friends after the shenanigans, their flirting ain’t never serious. They always know at a certain point it’ll stop, no matter what. It never feels like that. Like something could happen for real.
Brock musta had a couple drinks before he came over. He’s a flirty touchy drunk. The bitch is bad enough sober. He usually ain’t like it til after midnight though. And it’s with whichever boy he found to play with, not his friends. Sometimes with exes. But never seriously with Jose. Not since Jose said they couldn't if they were really gonna be friends.
Silky’s ass shows up with her man and the girls settle in and get out the snacks and the gifts and Brock is still being real clingy and affectionate in front of them, even for Brock.
And there still ain’t no sign of his present, even as Jose opens everybody else's.
Jose’s mom gets back with all the alcohol and they mix drinks and kiki but they ain’t had enough shots for how Brock is acting.
At one point Brock tries to pull Jose down to sit in his lap. Jose looks around at their friends, waiting for somebody to ask what the fuck is going on but not one of the bitches notices.
Do they flirt that bad on the regular that nobody can tell how weird this ho is being?
Apparently.
The feeling of Brock’s hands firm on his hips flips Jose's crazy switch. He's already riled up. Before he can stop the impulse he’s pouting back at Brock over his shoulder.
“My ass look good at 40?”
He sees the thrill go through Brock. His pupils dilate. “Yes,” he breathes, hopeful.
Jose starts rolling his hips in time with the playlist.
“Y'all, I’m feeling my booty in these coochie cutters!” He announces to the room, but it’s all for Brock.
“Yes, bitch! Werq!” Shangie and Heidi start dancing too.
"Get into it! We salacious tonight, y'all!" He yells back, and he vogues and snaps so it ain’t so obvious but his little booty pops are pretty much massaging Brock’s dick through his jeans.
“Baby, you like my coochie cutters?” He teases over his shoulder.
Brock looks overwhelmed. Good. The bitch deserves it after the shit he just put him through.
“I love them,” Brock sounds rougher and more sincere than he was expecting. His lips brush the back of Jose's neck, his earlobe, breathing heavy in his ear.
One of Brock’s hands slides under his shirt, across his stomach, sure and possessive, and suddenly he ain’t in control, ain’t playing him. Suddenly some primal switch flips and Brock owns him. All he wants, all his natural instincts, are to bend over and get fucked. Suddenly he needs his legs over Brock’s shoulders and his ass full with that dick that hits everywhere, he needs it as much as he needs to breathe. Suddenly he's twenty seven again and Brock is the only man in world worth shit.
At the same time he feels two things: a muscle twinge that ain't right in his lower back and Brock hard against his ass.
He leaps away from him like the bitch is on fire.
“Who making me a drink?” He yells, power walking to the other side of the room, hiding behind the Solo cup his mom hands him.
He peeks over the rim at Brock and he’s looking flushed.
Jose clutches the cramp in his back and tries to block out the feeling of him and Brock moving together, how well he fits between Brock's legs, how intuitively Brock follows his lead, decade old memories of fucking him, most of the details hazy now other than how good they were at it, how right it felt…
“Y'all I needa ice my back!” He yells to distract himself. “Old pussy don’t pop like young puss. I need some Advil, bitch! Medic!”
The girls are laughing and nobody clocks how Brock keeps watching him across the room.
Jose can see the outline of him through his jeans, legs spread. The ho ain’t even trying to hide it. He looks delighted.
What new fuckshit did he just get himself into?
Whatever. Now they’re even. He just can't let it happen no more, no matter what mood Brock is in, cause this shit is playing with fire.
///
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY BITCH!" Jose's friends yell when they get to The Abbey, 70 of them in unison.
Shangie and his mom stopped by early and put up banners and balloons everywhere, it’s real cute. Their area is packed, it feels like every bitch he cares about in LA is out to celebrate with him. Alexis, Sebastian, Coco and Kahanna even flew in from Vegas.
He tries to hug and kiss everyone, make sure everybody gets to kiki with him and know how much he appreciates them coming out for him.
While he's in and out of conversations, Brock flits around him like a shadow.
It’s not that he don’t enjoy Brock’s attention. Lord knows he always has.
But it’s weird. It’s his 40th birthday. He wants to be a good host and have a good time and turn it out, and Brock is stuck to his side like a limpet.
And he’s being all...not like Brock.
He still makes a couple shady jokes about the club being crowded and too loud, still shakes his ass dancing with anybody nearby when there’s a song he likes.
But he also keeps grabbing Jose's hip, touching his butt, tucking his face into his neck to whisper in his ear shit he could easily say at a normal distance. Putting his arms around him, fawning and giggling all over him.
All the closeness is making Jose feel weird. Stirring up shit he don’t wanna think about ever again but definitely not on his birthday in front of everyone.
He shouldn’t have encouraged the ho.
All his dancers are there, from almost every tour over the years. It's a gag to kiki with them all together.
As much as he adores his fellow queens, Jose was a backup dancer before he was anything else. He's secretly always felt more comfortable with the dancers, like less of a fraud when he's kiking with them than turning it out as Vanjie, tryna keep up with all his crazy talented sisters.
Filip brought his new fiance to the party. Jose forces himself to keep smiling when Filip introduces him, even though inside he gets soft and wistful listening to them all excited about the wedding, showing him their rings.
"You have to be there, girl. Did you get our Save the Date? December 12th."
"We'd love if you can make it."
"Baby I don't know what the fuck is going on with my schedule, I gotta check, but you know I would love to be there with you guys," he gives them sincerity, serving sweet loving friend who ain't having an existential crisis inside wondering if he can make it through another wedding single.
He loves weddings, adores them, all the romance and beautiful aesthetics. It's been fun getting to go to so many of his friends' over the years. But if he don't go with a date, things have been known to go left. Sometimes he ends the night crying and it ain't from happiness.
"I can go," Brock says in his ear as Filip turns away. "I don't have anything on the 12th."
"Except you ain't invited..." Jose frowns up at him.
He knows Brock ain't dumb enough to think he is. Other than a couple conversations at bars with Jose, Brock don't know Filip at all.
"Don't you get a plus one?" Brock frowns back, looking genuinely confused.
He ain't gotta rub it in how single they both are. Being his date to a wedding is hardly the same as going out for drinks together cause all their other friends are at home loved up with their boos. Being somebody's date to a wedding is for husbands and boyfriends. Not best friends.
Before Jose can correct him, Brock adds,
"Our first wedding together, big guy." His eyes shine with excitement.
It's a real weird way to phrase it. And not something he woulda thought Brock would be happy about. Having to make small talk with a room of strangers and eat a bunch of shit that ain't in whatever Goop diet plan he's doing that month would usually be Brock's nightmare. When he's normal Brock, not whoever this ho who decided to serve extra with a side of extraness is tonight.
But it would be more fun to do the wedding with Brock shadily reading everyone's outfits in his ear and drunk dancing with him to 80s ballads than by himself getting existential over prosecco.
"I'ma pencil you in," Jose says, with a suspicious eyebrow. "Light pencil. If I don't get no better offers."
Brock giggles, like that's a hilarious joke, and tugs him close by the belt loops.
"I can be very persuasive, young man," Brock grins down at him, soft and enticing. "Old man," he corrects, smirking. He's all happy and silly, looking at Jose's mouth again, leaning down, right in the middle of the club...
"Happy birthday Gorg!!"
Mik appears next to them, saving him from Brock getting any more tempting in public.
"Thank you babe!"
Jose hopes he don't sound too shaken when he hugs him. Mik hands over a black gift bag with homemade silver shit stuck to it.
"So we went for this, like, shiny, metallic birthday artistry moment with the bag. Are you living?" Mik fluffs the silver trim.
"Baby this is so cute. You didn't have to do all that!"
"Gorgalintra, of course! It's literally nothing, oh my God, love you!"
Jose gives Brock a pointed look, for his continued lack of gift.
"It's fun! I love it," Brock smiles, obliviously. He kisses Mik's cheek and takes Jose's empty glass.
"Another drink, boo?"
Jose raises an eyebrow.
"You tryna get me drunk."
"No," Brock smiles to himself, hand slipping around Jose's waist as he leans in close.
"I can do everything I want with you better sober," he says soft and full of promise.
He gives Jose a look that should be illegal in public and turns gracefully, making the crowd part and leave a path to the bar with the Brooke Lynn energy he's giving. Jose's heart is pounding and he tells it to calm the fuck down.
After that they get pulled into different conversations. Everybody wants to see Jose and Brock drifts outside with the smokers.
He promised he’d quit when he turned 40. He mostly has except for special occasions.
Jose is so busy kiking he forgets to even feel relieved. Things feel normal with space between them. He forgets about Brock, so happy to see everyone and have fun. The only time he thinks of him is when he texts Brock and Silky to watch his mom cause she already wasted, tryna dance all up on people they don’t know.
Maybe Brock was just in a weird mood cause one of his youngest best friends turned 40.
It feels weird as hell to Jose too. His life don’t look nothing like he pictured.
But it’s a good life. He’s happy.
His career’s been strong since Drag Race, just like Brock’s, and most of their friends’. He gets to do fun shit every year, meet cool people, make good money, and he’s so loved by kids all over the world. It’s still a job. Sometimes it’s exhausting, and he can't throw himself around the stage like he used to, but not many people enjoy their job as much as he does. And he's been able to pay for everybody who crawled out the woodwork asking for help to get a house or a car or bail, whatever they needed, and still have enough to buy as much Gucci as he wants. He’s real lucky.
His love life is another story. Ain’t nobody in the picture. It’s a gag.
He was sure he’d be married to the love of his life well before 40. Picket fence and shit. Surer of that than anything.
There were boys over the years he thought might be the one, til they weren’t. He got married to one of them in his 30s, when it seemed right. He always been bad at saying no to boys and it's even harder when they all cute proposing.
But that shit didn't last either. No Cheaters shit or nothing. They treated each other real nice. He checked all the boxes on Jose's list. Handsome, funny, considerate, generous in bed, giving all the romance Jose coulda wanted.
Turns out that shit wears off. When it fades you get left with just schedules that don't match up unless you take turns giving up career opportunities, and trying not to eye roll when you hear the same jokes over and over cause you can't read him like your friends because he's too sweet for shadiness. Looking at his face while he's sleeping and realizing you're thinking more about how annoying it is that his eyebrows are uneven than how much you love him. Wondering if you can pluck them without waking him and looking up your high school boyfriend on Facebook next to him in the dark cause you can't sleep, worrying about the future in a way you don't wanna wake him up and talk about. Flirting back when you accidentally like a pic and the high school boyfriend shows up in your dms. Not enough to mean anything but more than you ever thought you would in a relationship. Rolling over for sex so you can shut your eyes and think about Ryan Gosling to change it up a little, wondering if this it really it for the rest of your life and everybody else is just settling for it.
It just didn't turn out like Jose thought marriage was supposed to, partners in crime, like his mom got with his stepdad. He wasn't expecting a perfect fairytale. He grew up a bit and realized romantic movies ain't reality. But he thought loving his husband shoulda made him easier to live with when he spilled juice on their fur rugs or burned Jose's favorite candles down to the wicks without asking or thought he might be allergic to cats which made Jose feel constantly guilty even though he "didn't mind" taking an antihistamine.
Maybe they didn't love each other enough. Jose put up with worse from Brock and Silky without getting annoyed. Even though they were old friends, he knew he shouldn't love his friends more than his husband.
Nothing big happened. Little things just added up til Jose realized they couldn't be meant for each other after all. Until even his husband doing cute shit like making him a meal felt claustrophobic. He learned marrying a man was a lot less about the secret Pinterest board he'd been making since his 20s under his mom's name and much more about making it work on the boring days, still being invested, year after year, breakfast after breakfast, conversation after conversation. And they weren't. The longer they stayed together the clearer it became they were not each other's special person. By the time they divorced nobody was mad but they weren't even very interested in each other anymore.
They still follow each other on Instagram, comment cute supportive things on each others' posts, but they ain’t spoken in years. Jose saw he got married again a couple years ago and tried not to feel too salty.
He don't want him back or nothing.
He just don't understand why when he wants it so much, he's the last one to find someone he can be happy with.
Brock was at his bachelor party, genuinely happy for him, and at his divorce party too, genuinely sympathetic. An even better shoulder to cry on than Silky, who was falling in love with the man she ended up marrying at the time. Brock cried at the wedding, when they were all getting ready in their suits, fixing their pocket squares. When Jose asked if he was okay he said he was just emotional. Smiled, gave him a kiss on the mouth that only lingered a little too long, and said "I hope you have such an amazing life together, boo. You deserve it."
If he’s honest with himself, it took a long time before he could date seriously after Brock. The reasons him and Brock couldn't work were obvious but their chemistry was so right it was hard not to compare the men who came after. Even though they were probably better for him. And maybe subconsciously some part of him was kinda waiting, giving Brock a couple years, just in case he decided to get his shit together.
It meant Jose threw himself more fully into work than he ever did before right off Drag Race, which gave him the career he loves, so it was for the best. It’s hard to date when you’re going all out on drag. You never in the same place long enough, always touring.
Then he did Dating Miss Vanjie for VH1. It ran a couple seasons until he tapped out and Kandy took over. He felt like he couldn’t really get serious with nobody while he was making it cause he needed to look single to the fans, which was fine with where his head was at the time. He ended up dating a couple of the chickenheads from the show, one of them for nearly a year, cause he ain't never been good at shutting his legs when the cameras shut off. Some of them treated him real nice, said all the shit he wanted to hear. But not one of them was as serious about him as they was about being on TV. It hurt every time he realized he shoulda known, each time made him a little more skeptical of men's motives.
The best relationships he had were with other creatives, not performers, who didn't wanna fight him for the spotlight. But a lot of them were quieter, and he'd feel responsible for making it fun, keeping conversations going, when really he wanted to be entertained and surprised. The couple times he dated men with more personality they got in fights a lot, were unreliable at best, damn rude at worst, once he saw past the charm.
Jose would never admit it but Brock was right when he read him all those years ago. It's hard to find a man who treats him right and keeps him interested. He's still looking.
Brock is the only ex he's friends with. He's cordial with everybody but they're friends because Brock begged him for a real friendship. For a ho that couldn’t commit he sure got real upset when Jose said he couldn’t see him or talk to him for a while when they broke up.
Jose mighta been the first ho who ever tried refusing him. Brock goes through life leaving a trail of exes half in love with him, collecting friends from his almost-relationships like it's an official part of the breakup. Brock says it's because he has such great taste in men. His exes are all awesome people he loves and wants to keep in his life.
Jose knows it's cause he likes them close enough to flirt with when he gets bored, needs an ego boost. Or has an existential crisis about wanting to fall in love for five minutes before he goes back to wanting to be on his own again.
Before Jose knew collecting exes is what the bitch does, it hurt his heart to see Brock tearing up, panicked, saying not being boyfriends was fine but he couldn’t bear not to have Jose in his life at all. It was just before Season 11 aired and Brock was freaking out like he always does when he gotta do shit he can't plan for. Getting all soft and persuasive about how much he needed Jose, how amazing he was, how they should go through it together. Jose couldn’t deny him when he thought it meant so much to him. Even though it was painful at first.
He's happy with how it worked out, even now he knows Brock pulls the same shit every time. Knowing Brock, the ho probably means it every time too.
When he found out Brock does that shit with every dick he sucked after too many shots, for a minute, Jose really tried not to be one of them. For the sake of his pride. He pulled back from their friendship, barely responded to texts, finally took the distance he needed.
But it’s too hard not to love the bitch.
That's always been the problem with him and Brock. There was nothing wrong with them together. It was when they were not together the problems started.
So Jose had to make himself get over him even though he didn't really wanna, and it never felt right. He tried being mad at Brock to make it easier but you can't stay mad at Brock for long. Everybody thinks his ass is endearing, they should try tryna hold a grudge against Brock. The ho is the sweetest, it ain't fair. He gets so worried if he ever thinks he upset somebody. He likes to act shady with people he don't know well but underneath, with the people he chooses, he's the biggest softie.
Especially once they saw each other so much, Jose could tell it was only a matter of time until he caved. It wasn't so bad when the ho was half a country away and Jose could tell himself whatever made it easier. But when he was with Brock all the time, they felt so together, like they always did.
The bitterness wore off eventually and he realized how much he still smiled around Brock, how seeing him made a regular day a good day. At a certain point it was just easier to make his peace with Brock being too damn loveable for his own good than keep tryna talk himself out of it.
Once Jose learned to separate Brock telling him how much loved him and what an amazing, special guy he was from thinking that meant Brock wanted to date him again, once he got his head right, and Brock moved to LA and they hung in the same friendship groups, he got a best friend he loves outta all the fuckshit. A ho so different than him, who he never woulda been that close with otherwise.
Maybe it's the unique experience they went through together. Maybe it's that he was Brock's only ever actual boyfriend. But it helps Jose's pride that him and Brock are closer than Brock's other almost-exes. The others are drinks and thirst comments when Brock's bored, weekends away when he wants cute company, but Brock is one of his very best friends.
He wouldn’t trade his friendship with Brock. But after he saged the worst of the feels, after he figured out giving in to temptation even a little bit only makes the feels come back with a vengeance, after he dragged himself back from the edge of heartbreak, always so much harder to talk yourself out of love than into it, so disappointed after selling himself so hard on the dream Brock never really was. It's so exciting when all you ever really wanted is to fall in love and you feel like you found the one. It takes a minute to process that he really ain't, even when the evidence is right there in front of you. You doubt yourself sometimes. So after all that, it probably never helped his dating life, his relationships, or even his marriage, that Brock was always there. Just his friend, but always around, unintentionally reminding him how it's supposed to feel when it's right with a man, when he's enough to be your match, enough to make your gullible ass think he's the one.
Jose was strong enough to never go back once he decided he wouldn't, smart enough to know the situation was hopeless. But not powerful enough to block that shit out completely. He’s only human. And Brock’s Brock. At a certain point no ho in the world can resist that shit. He'd like to see any ho try.
They stayed close through their 30s. Some years they didn’t see each other for months, that’s just how their lives are, how they are. But even then they texted each other cute animals and shit, left each other voice notes, read each other to filth, affectionately. As soon as they weren’t dating and just enjoyed other as friends, he learned how Brock's brain works, saw how sweet he is when you ain't expecting him to be something he's not. They can play fight and read each other all day but it ain't never serious, they always care about each other. Like family. Brock's lasted longer than a lot of his LA friends.
They got especially close the past couple years. They don’t travel as much, so they spend a lot of time together in LA. They still text a lot too, even though they don't need to. It became a habit to share little cute shit to brighten each others' day like Jose does with his mom. Or to share their random thoughts and musings. Sometimes they don't even respond to each other, just leave a series of unrelated voice notes about whatever's going through their head, kinda like talking to a journal.
And it’s nice to still have a good single Judy to hang with when all his other best friends are in couples.
No surprise Brock is still single too, in his mid 40s.
He dates a lot, as far as Jose knows. He ain't heard much about Brock's latest love interests but he ain't asked either cause that's how he likes it. He'll listen if he gotta but he ain't the one to bring it up unless Brock does.
When Brock became a judge on So You Think You Can Dance and Dancing With The Stars the trade started pouring in thick and fast. Even thicker and faster than usual, which is saying something. He was like a ho in a candy store. He worked through them one at a time, thought he was in love, for a couple days or weeks, til he wasn't.
Jose met a few of the chickenheads who stuck around a while. Tried not to be too judgemental.
None of them lasted. Brock can’t even articulate what goes wrong with these boys. Some of them were fine as hell, some were famous, they all seemed sweet enough, perfectly nice, though Jose would never say that to their faces. Brock would just say it “wasn’t right for him anymore”, it “started to feel weird” or he “got the itch”. The same self-centered bullshit he gave Jose all those years ago.
He often tells Brock it’s him who ain’t right in the head and Brock just laughs and cuddles him and jokes, “I don’t need a man, I have cats. And you. Give me attention.”
Jose tried to tell him he needs therapy. Brock falls in love with the idea of a man real hard and real fast. Jose gets it. He's the same way. What he don't get is how Brock still gets in his head soon as it gets real with someone, whether it's five minutes or three months.
One time Brock felt the fantasy so hard he got engaged. Then freaked out so bad he left for a last minute six month tour of Asia the week after. Jose had to call his irresponsible ass and make him break up with the fool when he started asking around Brock’s friends cause Brock wasn’t responding to any of his messages.
As shitty as Brock was when they dated by Jose's standards, if he woulda tried the shit he pulls with other hos on him, he woulda got his ass whooped. Seeing how Brock is with other men made Jose realize the fuckshit Brock pulled with him was Brock actually trying.
As a friend Brock ain’t shitty most of the time. Sometimes he's the sweetest. Generous and caring and Jose feels real lucky to have him. They always make each other laugh. The times he's a selfish asshole are easier to ignore and forgive cause Jose knows how his mind works now, all his mental health shit, and how big his heart is. How bad he feels when someone he cares about is mad at him.
He don't know if Brock ever did therapy. He's obviously worked through a lot of his shit over the years and he loves all his wellness jush. But Brock also hates things he ain't good at and his Canadian ass don't like talking about all his deep buried feelings so Jose can't imagine him being enthusiastic about it.
Brock flew back and broke up with the fiance ho after Jose Facetimed him in Singapore and talked him down from a two month panic attack.
"I don't think I really want this," the fool confessed, wound up tight and melancholy, all sudsy in a gorgeous bathtub in that cute hotel with the rooftop infinity pool. "If I was gonna marry anyone it would've been you."
Jose pretended not to hear that for both of their sanity and told Brock to get his ass back to LA and do the right thing.
Four months later when he got back from tour Brock started kinda seeing the ho again until he freaked out over some other shit and that ho finally realized his sanity was more important than the unpredictable high that is Brock's fickle attention.
Jose recognized the resigned look in his eyes, same one he used to have his own, when they all went for drinks. Another one of Brock's attempts to stay friendly. Jose spent the night loudly yelling reads at strangers cause he felt so awkward.
He knows Brock tried open relationships at one point but he didn't like them. As far as Jose knows it didn't work cause when they opened it up Brock kept falling for the new men instead. The ho is a one man typa romantic. He just got a real short attention span.
Lately Brock loves to complain about all the good men being taken, sighing and pouting like a martyr. Jose thinks it's funny. Brock ain't looking hard enough cause he's only a couple years younger and he finds trade. Nobody who changed his world or nothing, and some of the boys are a little on the young side, but he ain't giving up yet.
A couple years ago Brock started talking about moving to Chicago, getting a place near Steve. Jose got irrationally jealous. Even though Steve is always gonna be Brock's oldest best friend, he loves Steve too, and he learned a long time ago you can't own a piece of Brock unless the ho wants you to have it, so it ain't worth getting pressed about.
But for a while every time they spoke Jose worried Brock would tell him he was moving. Sometimes in the middle of doing random shit he'd get this fear that Brock wouldn't even tell him. He'd just mention all casual next time he texted that he moved already without telling no one.
Jose started making an effort to hang with him more, got him involved in fun shit with the girls, so Brock would see LA still had a lot to offer and Jose wouldn't lose one of his last close single friends. Eventually he stopped worrying about Chicago stealing his best friend. Brock didn't go. He ain't talked about it in years.
He sees Brock a lot now. Even taking into account how much of a loner Brock is, how he loves to avoid people unless he's in the mood, Jose is kind of excluded from being classed as "people", in the same category as Aurora and his cats. It's unusual if a week goes by and Jose don't see him. They always going for drinks, dinner, fabric shopping, to shows, clubs, pools, to be each others’ plus ones at industry shit. Their other friends bring partners. It’s better when Brock’s there so he don’t have to be the only one single, or it’s just the two of them and they don’t gotta watch everybody else loved up, they can just kiki. They’re experts at making each other laugh whispering shady reads about a room of couples without nobody guessing what they giggling about.
Now they old as fuck, sometimes they don't even go out. Sometimes it's more fun sitting at home watching whatever series Brock is tryna get him into with a bottle of wine than going out and getting shots.
He should probably be depressed he’s one of the last two hos left single in their friend group. Even Silky’s ass found a man before them. If Brock settled down before him too he really might lose it.
Good thing he don’t gotta worry about that since it’s Brock.
Jose got pressed about being single leading up to his 40th.
He knows it’s just a year, like the one before, and time don’t mean shit. But he couldn’t help thinking of it as a milestone. He didn’t like the idea of being old as fuck, officially, without figuring it out, finding his perfect man, the one he was meant to be with.
It led to a string of strained relationships the past couple years. He tried to make things more perfect than they were, rushing into shit, pushing to find out right away if a boy was gonna be something special so he didn’t waste time, which made him push men away when he didn’t mean to.
Then right before he turned 40 something in his bobble head flipped and he relaxed about it. It just hit him that it was happening. He couldn't do shit about it. Even though he ain't got his perfect life yet, he’s grateful for what he got. And, like his mom always says, he still got time. Everybody’s on their own schedule, it ain’t a race. Whatever happens next he knows he’ll be okay.
For as long as he can remember he thought he wanted somebody to love more than anything. But after his last couple relationships, after his divorce, he thinks it’s better to be on his own and still looking for what he really wants than with the wrong person just to be with somebody. Now he’s very open to love, still hopeful, cause he gotta be, it’s all he ever really wanted, the thing he wants most in the world. More than fame, more than money, more than anything. He hates feeling lonely and sometimes he gets scared, overwhelmed by how impossible it feels to find his person. But it don’t feel as urgent as it was. When it comes, it comes. He ain’t gonna force it no more.
So even though he’s officially ancient and alone and it seems like everybody else is happier with their person, he's doing his best to be patient. A lot of the time it works. Sometimes he feels better and more free than he has in years.
He probably been spending too much time with Brock. He should tell him he’s a bad influence. All his let go of what don’t serve you shit was a revelation at first. Jose needed to hear it with where his head was at a while back. But making space for the next thing is all good until ain’t no next thing waiting and you start wondering if what you had wasn’t so bad. Sometimes it feels like he been through every man on the West Coast. He don’t know that if he lets the next meh boy go, the one after him is gonna be any better. But at the same time he don't want another marriage like his first one. He ain't got no more time to waste at his age. If he settles down with a man again, he wants to be sure he's the right one.
As his birthday night goes on Jose’s luck might be starting to change.
He meets some real promising trade. Sexy, funny, polite, this man got him starting to get excited about love again, a little flutter kicking off in his stomach as they talk.
He's fine as hell. Tall dark and handsome with a jaw like Prince Eric, got him feeling like The Little Mermaid. He keeps buying Jose drinks since Shangie told him it’s his birthday. He’s a plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills so he got money money, but he ain’t superficial. He's seen Drag Race but he ain't weird about it. His eyes crinkle warmly when he smiles, he got good manners, and he actually makes Jose laugh out loud and spit out his drink. They dance, and them hips don’t lie, they feel real promising.
Maybe it’s birthday luck. It would be a hell of a story to tell their grandkids. Spending his 30s hopelessly looking for love, then meeting the love of his life on his 40th birthday, as soon as he lets go of finding him. It sounds like a movie he’d watch and Jose’s little flutters start blossoming into big ass butterflies.
When the guy goes to the bathroom Jose skips over to his friends, who retreated to give him space to do his thing.
“Y'all, I think I found the one,” he grins widely.
“Girl, get it! He’s cute!” Shangie throws an arm around him.
“Bitch! Yes!” Adore smacks him excitedly.
“Bitch, I’ma ride that dick so good tonight,” Jose body rolls enthusiastically. "Show him how we do it at 40."
“Common birthday dick!” Trixie calls, coming in from outside with Brock, who perks up at dick.
“Y’all know it’s about time,” Jose beams, digging his birthday poppers out of his pocket and taking a deep sniff. “The pussy is ready for love, y'all. He better watch out, baby, my tight ass coming for him.”
“What? Who?” Brock nudges into the group behind Trixie, frowning sharply, cold and smelling of cigarettes.
“Found me some birthday trade,” Jose smirks, pleased, head rushing as the poppers hit.
He made sure to bring them cause tonight is a party and it’s been a minute. The pussy gonna be tight. The more he can help it along, the less time he gotta spend with fingers in his ass pretending it feels like anything but awkward.
“You know me. Baby, I’m like Kanye. I want it Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger.”
He hopes he ain’t disappointed when he sees the dick. He already checked the man is a top. First thing he asked, like always. But you never know with these boys. Especially cause everything else about him seems too good to be true. If the moment comes and he ain’t packing something that’s gonna hit his sweet spot, Jose will have to top if he wants to feel something, and the poppers will be for nothing.
And that would be a real bad start to their love story.
Brock’s eyebrows go up incredulously, as though he ain’t watched Jose put poppers in his back pocket any time they go out looking for trade just in case. (Even though most nights all either of them get is a kiss and a number). As though Brock ain’t asked to borrow them any time he’s feeling like the only bottom.
“Getting me some birthday dick!” Jose yell-sings loudly. “Y'all, I'ma bless him with this mature 40 year old ass. Vintage, like good wine. Bitch, good pussy. You want that refined, experienced, oaky...” he jokes.
“Not oaky!” Trixie cackles.
“But we keep it tight! Hannah Montana, baby, best of both worlds.” He beams, enjoying the spotlight, as the girls laugh.
“Y'all when I’m a hundred and forty the pussy still gonna be tight!”
“Yes bitch, werq dat ass,” Adore cackles, smacking it, and Jose suddenly realizes how loud he’s yelling about his asshole in the club and gets shy.
“Girl he ain’t just birthday trade, that man is husband material,” Silky says, around a chicken wing.
“Don’t jinx it, ho!” Jose yells and smacks her. “Okay, watch this. I’ma get my man, bitches.”
He’s turning to look for the trade when he sees Brock’s weird expression.
“Who got you pressed? Some ho ain’t biting?” he asks, nudging Brock conspiratorially.
He remembers all too well how horny the bitch was acting so he knows Brock probably made half the club fall in love with him already. The ho works fast like that.
“What?” Brock startles, still frowning. “No, I’m...what? Who’s the guy? You just met him?”
“Look, look,” Jose nudges him, pointing to his handsome plastic surgeon coming out the bathroom, looking around the club all fine. He spots Jose and waves brightly, heading towards them.
Jose looks at Brock and grins proudly but the congratulatory teasing he’s expecting don’t come.
Brock got a weird look on his face.
“Baby, you good?” Jose drops the kiki, peering up at him soft and concerned.
Brock swallows heavily and bobs his head sharply.
“Mmhm. Have fun. I’m going for a cigarette,” he says tightly.
That’s some bullshit. He just came in from smoking. He don’t need another one.
He looks at the little bottle in Jose’s hand.
“You know you don’t need that to have good sex, by the way,” he gives him a withering judgemental look.
“I know,” Jose bristles, defensive over being attacked for nothing. “You know how I like it,” he adds more quietly and frowns at him.
Considering Brock got personal experience of pounding his ass for almost the entire Good Girl Gone Bad album, eleven inches deep, while he bounces on the dick and screams for Jesus, he don’t know why he’s acting like he don’t know how relaxed and sensitive it makes his asshole so he can take the type of dick that really opens his sesame.
“If the guy’s good enough, he can make it good for you anyway. Whether he’s in your butt or not,” Brock raises his eyebrow, challenging.
"Bitch, I know."
He don't know why he gotta make a big point about it. And it’s a nice thought but not everybody is working with the same moves and equipment as Brock.
“That’s what you gonna do tonight, then, hm? Found some hungry bottom? Or you wanna get topped? Vers for vers?” he nudges him, grinning.
“What?” Brock twitches, alarmed. “Are you…? Ew, no,” he looks deeply grossed out. "Are you serious?"
Okay, overreaction. Neither one of them go home with men they just met on the regular but it ain’t that weird. Especially cause for all Brock knows he’s only playing. They always tease each other, talking a big talk. If all Jose does tonight is get that trade’s number for a date next week he's still gonna be happy. But he’s gonna enjoy kiking with his friends about getting birthday dick whether it happens or not.
“Bitch, it ain’t that serious. It’s birthday sex,” he rolls his eyes at Brock. “So what if my 40 year old ass wanna get fucked so good I can’t walk tomorrow. What it gotta do with you?”
“Nothing, clearly,” Brock sounds disappointed.
By the time Jose opens his mouth to ask what the fuck is up with his confusing ass mood swings today, Brock is already pushing through the crowd, swift and graceful.
When the trade reaches him Jose puts a hand on his arm.
“Baby one second, I gotta check on my friend. He going cuckoo crazy, all upset about something. I’ll be back.”
“Oh, sure. Another drink for the birthday boy?” handsome plastic surgeon of his dreams says.
Jose looks at his stubble and pictures him on his couch in a robe on a Sunday morning, holding his arms out to snuggle and almost sighs out loud.
“Mmhm, Hennessey baby. Thank you. Don’t you go talking to nobody else while I’m gone. Baby, I got plans for you,” he winks at him, trying to fill it with enough promise to keep him interested while he makes sure his asshole best friend is okay.
“I like the sound of that,” Prince Eric of Beverley Hills smiles.
Jose leans in close and kisses him on the cheek as he leaves, cause he can't help himself.
The scratch of his stubble against Jose's cheek is delicious. But his cologne smells kinda weird up close. Or maybe it's his laundry detergent. Something about his smell is...not bad, just...a little off.
Whatever. Easy to fix if he's the one. Jose runs through colognes he could give him as a second date present on his way outside.
He wouldn't give it on the first date. That would be too much.
Brock looks like a thundercloud all alone leaning against the wall, freezing his titties off in his half open shirt, leather jacket wide open.
He ain’t just out on the terrace, he took his ass all the way outside the gates. Some of their friends are sat outside but he’s ignoring everyone. He ain’t even smoking. Just scrolling through his phone, pouting like a moody teenager.
“Bitch. What is up with you?” Jose crosses his arms in front of him, really not in the mood for this shit. On his birthday!
Brock's usually an affectionate drunk, not a moody ass one. Jose nearly sent Heidi out after him but it’s his party. And it’s Brock.
“Nothing. I’m fine,” Brock mutters shortly.
“Clearly not, bitch. Try again,” he cocks his head impatiently.
Brock sighs dramatically. Jose raises his eyebrows.
“I just thought we said…” Brock shakes his head. For a second he looks like he might start crying. It must be the street light. “...maybe it’s for the best anyway.”
He sounds all bitter and intense, like they're talking about something more serious than Jose can understand. He looks at Jose too long. His eyes look sad.
“I'm gonna go home.”
“Bitch! It’s my birthday!” Jose explodes so loud Brock winces. But you don’t leave a friend on their birthday before 2am. That’s just like, the rules of friendship.
“You ain’t even give me my present.”
“Do you even still want it?” Brock asks moodily, fiddling with his phone.
“What? Of course. What you talking about?” Jose frowns.
“Well you seem busy,” Brock’s eyes flash cold.
“Bitch, what you mean? It’s my birthday!” Jose is so confused it’s making it hard to even stay mad at him. “You want me to ignore everybody?”
“No. I don’t want you to ignore anybody,” Brock says, too intense to be sincere.
“Then what?”
“You're not even talking to your friends. You're busy with your new man,” Brock sulks quietly, punctuating it with a look.
“The birthday trade? You mad about that?” Jose’s brows shoot up in surprise. “Since when do you care?”
What is this, twelve years ago?
“Why are you being so…” Brock looks hurt and confused and then shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t.”
Brock shuts down, turning cold, like everybody thinks he is when they first meet him.
Jose don’t know what the fuck Brock wants from him. He been more than generous with his attention on his birthday when he gotta play host with all his other friends too.
This ain’t like Brock. He’s usually sweet and supportive. In all the years they been friends they sometimes joke about it and sometimes go home a little bummed and jealous and just deal with it, but they never try to fuck with each other’s game for real.
And he sure ain't about to start that childish shit in their 40s.
Jose realizes his leg is jiggling impatiently. Brock must see how frustrated he is because he sighs and softens, melting from moody bitch into the softie Jose recognises.
"It's fine, honestly. I'll get over it. Do what you want, big guy,” Brock smiles sadly. “Do whatever makes you happy.”
He sighs, big and tragic, like they out here discussing the meaning of life not some birthday trade.
“Well I ain’t gonna be happy if you leave,” Jose crosses his arms and stands in his way.
Brock looks touched and then even more hurt.
“We’re too old to play games now,” he says quietly, frowning.
“I ain’t playing no game. Bitch, I’m fucking serious!” Jose is at his wits end with the boy. He's freezing his ass off out here in coochie cutters in October and he is done with this shit.
“Jose, I’m tired,” Brock sounds flat, he looks his age. Their age.
“Just stay,” Jose says softly. “Please?” he tries to be cute. "For me?"
He can’t have one of his best friends leave his birthday this early. What if acquaintance hos take the cue and start leaving too?
Brock is his only single best friend, he should be Jose biggest wingman, down til the end of the night, like usual. The amount of shit he's sat through that he didn't want to for Brock and the bitch can’t just stay and be nice for his big 40th? He was so excited about it before. They been looking forward to tonight for months.
“I don't think I can. I really don’t feel like it now, sorry” Brock sighs, dramatic as fuck.
“Bitch, what about me? What I feel like? I want you to stay,” Jose crosses his arms petulantly.
Brock is stubbornly silent. It’s so weird. It's been a decade since they hated seeing each other with anybody else. So many nights since they been out looking for men together and it never got petty.
Though now he’s really thinking about it, Brock acted weird when he tried to tell him about the last guy he was dating. Jose put it down to work stuff stressing him out so he didn't have time to listen, but maybe it was whatever the fuck this is.
He still don’t get if Brock is jealous of the guy or of him or some other shit he probably won’t ever know cause getting Brock to talk about vulnerable feelings is mission impossible.
But even when the ho drives him crazy, it’s Brock. His best friend is more important than any man.
Even if the man could be his future husband.
“Come on, one more drink, bitch. We’ll have fun. I’m 40!” he squeezes Brock's hand and gives him his best pleading puppy dog eyes.
He smirks when they get Brock like always.
“Stop being so cute it’s not fair,” Brock grumbles. He gives Jose a reluctant little smile. “One. Old guy.”
Brock promises he’s right behind him. Jose gives him a wary look as he heads inside, warning him he better not sneak off and leave instead. He knows Brock too well. Just like Brock knows agreeing to one drink means he's staying for at least three.
Then Jose finds the handsome trade and tells him he can’t take the drink, and to have a good night cause it ain’t happening.
Prince Eric gives him his card, a real ass business card ‘cause he a real man with a good job who don't loose his shit over talking to a drag queen and made Jose laugh a lot already. Jose looks at his broad shoulders longingly as he watches him walk away.
Then he pastes on a smile for his friends.
If that really is his future husband, taking care of his friend one night will just be a cute detail in their love story. Probably cuter than starting off with a hook up anyway.
He schooches back towards his friends real impressed with his mature, sensible 40 year old self restraint over a boy. Especially with all the shots he's had already.
Brock glides over, parting the crowd, graceful as fuck even with two drinks in his hands. He gives Jose the Hennessey. He looks around, genuinely surprised.
“Where's the birthday trade?”
“Gone.”
“What?"
"It ain't happening. I shut that shit down," Jose looks at him, challenging.
"Why?” Brock looks startled again. He can’t keep up with this bitch.
“Because obviously you didn’t like it,” Joe tilts his head, daring Brock to try him.
“Really?” Brock breathes softly. He lights up, blooming with hope.
“Of course, bitch. You know you’re more important,” Jose rolls his eyes, thinking longingly of the poppers in his pocket and his chance of getting birthday fucked disappearing into the night.
Brock absolutely beams to himself, dopey happy. He leans in close, all up in Jose's space again, so fast he got whiplash.
“I am, huh?” he rubs Jose’s hip, thumb dipping beneath his shorts. “The most important?”
He sounds so pleased with himself Jose almost wants to say no to fuck with him, but he’s too mesmerized by the energy Brock’s serving, from zero to intoxicating. His eyes trace Jose’s face like a caress, watching his reactions carefully.
It’s way more of Brock's attention than he's used to, he ain't ready for it. It's super intimate, even by Brock levels of touchy. So far from the mood Brock was in outside. He can’t keep up.
“Of course. You know you are,” Jose tries to roll his eyes but it’s hard to be flippant with Brock all focussed on him.
“I do, boo,” Brock brims with something intense. "You know you are to me too. The very most important." He's being all soft and cute.
"Bitch, I better be!" Jose tries to joke but it comes out softer than he meant it. He means they're best friends, of course they are, but why is Brock looking at him like it means something else?
Brock's hand leaves his hip and slides down his arm. He tangles their fingers together and leans close.
"Should we g..."
“Bitch, let’s dance!” Jose says at the same time, forcing himself to break the tension.
He learned his lesson earlier. Accidentally letting Brock get him all hot and bothered in the privacy of his own home is bad enough. He'd never live it down if he lets half the homos in LA see it.
He missed what Brock was starting to say. Brock don't repeat himself, just smiles brightly.
"Okay," he swings their hands happily. "Whatever you want, Birthday Guy," he massages circles into Jose's palm with his thumb.
Jose leads them over to the rest of the group where he can put space between them so he can get his head right. Brock follows dutifully.
He tries to take his hand back but Brock keeps their fingers threaded together, rubbing his palm. It makes him feel tingly shit he ain’t supposed to feel with Brock.
He snatches his hand back as soon as they reach the group and tries to put people between them when they dance for safety.
Brock don’t flirt with nobody all night, so at least he ain’t a hypocrite.
When trade comes by he barely looks at them. He stays close, croons into Jose’s ear badly to all their favorite songs when Jose lets him get close enough, tries to body roll up against him if he lets him get too close. Brock's jacket ends up draped over Mik and his shirt is hanging off one shoulder, revealing more of the body that gets more toned every year.
Silky clears the floor, getting everybody in a circle to watch her breakdance. Shangie, Alexis and Uncle Coco are yelling shit. It feels like the whole club is kiking with them. They dance their asses off and keep drinking. Brock don’t mention going home again. The rest of the night he's all smiles.
Jose drinks the shots his friends buy, forgets about his future husband, and just has fun. He mostly avoids getting flustered by dancey Brock except once when Brock bends over and backs his ass right up into him. He holds his hips instinctively, shocked by the familiarity of the rhythm, then plays it off as a joke, grabbing a menu off a table and smacking him with it.
Jose has amazing friends, he loves to drink and dance, and he pulls his poppers out, passing them around cause he should at least get some fun outta them. Smiling wide with all his friends around him, 40 feels good.
///
Their old asses can’t party like they used to. By 1am most of his friends are gone or starting to leave.
The ride or die group goes to Heidi’s for a lazy after party, picking up food and tequila on the way.
Brock slides in next to Jose on Heidi’s couch, feeding him fries, giggling like crazy at every random birthday thought that comes out of Jose’s mouth like it's the funniest sentence ever created.
Adore and Chris Crocker are smoking a bowl on the other couch, filming Lives. Silky, Heidi and their men are arguing over dividing up the food, Silky insisting she ordered an extra burrito they can’t find.
"I needa cool it on these fries, baby," Jose mutters, doing no such thing. "You know everything I eat after midnight goes straight to my ass."
"And that's a problem why?" Brock smiles indulgently at him. "Looking tasty from here, boo," his eyes sparkle.
"Not tasty!" Jose almost chokes, potato coming up in the back of his mouth.
"You know I do that now, right?" Brock is looking at him all serious. "Apparently I'm very good." He shrugs a defined creamy shoulder, playing at modesty.
"I bet you are." Jose tsks and jokes to try break the mood. "Bitch, as if you bad at anything."
"But I only do it for guys I really, really like," Brock smiles slow and tempting.
Jose shakes his head to clear it, scooting a safe lil distance across the couch.
"Mmhm. I gotta keep it cute for the children anyway. They ain't as generous as your thirsty ass. If I go out in drag looking like shit, they gonna read my ass. No ifs ands or booties."
Brock giggles, and scoots right after him, curling into his shoulder.
"Nope. Everybody loves you," Brock hums warm and adoring. "You could do anything. You'll always be a star, boo."
Brock's praise trickles pleasantly down his spine like always.
Jose is tipsy and Brock keeps looking at him like he's waiting for something. He's been tempting Jose's impulsiveness all night, and he made him send away the trade who coulda scratched his itch for real. So after Brock feeds him a fry, Jose feels like fucking with him some more. He catches Brock's wrist and sucks the salt off his fingers.
Brock’s breath catches. His sexy as hell energy swells around them.
Jose hums and sucks deeper, looking him in the eye, his mouth reacting automatically while his mind wonders what the hell he’s doing.
“Baby,” Brock sighs softly, and shifts closer, pressing right up against him.
Heidi is laughing, throwing fries into Silky’s mouth across the room. Adore is dozing on Chris’ shoulder. It feels like everybody fades away, like it’s just him and Brock. They could do anything and nobody would know.
Something heavy settles over them, wrapping them in their own little bubble. He takes Brock's fingers out of his mouth and it don't feel like playing no more. Now nothing is more important than whatever this is.
Brock strokes under his chin, softly, like it’s a decade ago.
Jose thought it was cute as hell back then. Now it snaps him back to his senses.
“Why you acting?”
“What do you mean, boo?” Brock's all innocent and amused, as though this is normal behavior, as though Jose shoulda expected it.
“Don’t play. Touching me like this. Bitch, all pressed, getting your panties in a bunch, over the trade."
Brock smiles.
"You didn't like seeing me with him."
Brock shakes his head softly.
"Why?”
Brock’s quiet ass just smirks and blinks charismatically, fixated on Jose's mouth again like he can't help himself. Maybe Brock is drunker than he thought.
He feels dizzy the way Brock's looking at him but it ain't from the alcohol. Jose touches his cheek. Brock turns his face into Jose's palm, affectionate.
"Tell me," he says softly, tracing Brock’s jaw, smoothing his bushy ass eyebrows, awed by the beauty up close and still under his hand.
He feels kinda nervous but he don't know why. It's just Brock.
Brock glows, welcoming and patient, eyes shining at him, and don't say shit. Just leans into being petted like a cat.
Jose swallows and gathers the courage to say what’s starting to eat at him.
“What?” His voice cracks. He's really saying it out loud. He blames the shots. “...you want me with you instead?”
Brock don’t tease, don't play. He just nods his head yes, smiling, soft and encouraging, like it’s thirteen years ago. He sighs happily and leans in for Jose's mouth, as though that cleared up everything and this is clearly what they do next.
Jose’s head is spinning but he’s only human. Brock is stroking his cheek, coming closer and closer, smelling like a man, expensive cologne and Brock, one of his favorite smells in the world, even when the bitch ain't showered and Jose pretends to read him for it. Feeling like the trade of all trade pressed firm up against him, giving seduction at a 10. At a certain point Brock is a magnet. Ain't no ho in the world can resist that shit. By the time Brock’s lips touch his, Jose is rising to meet them, pressing up into him hungrily, just as eager.
Brock’s mouth is more gentle against his than he expected.
It ain’t drunk and sloppy. Brock holds his jaw and kisses him careful and tender, like he’s the most precious thing in the world.
His stomach flips and he already knows this is a bad idea. This is why he don’t let himself do this with Brock, even if they’re both single and horny, even though they’re good at it. Because then he starts feeling like this again.
His tipsy mind races to catch up, take control, give back as good as he’s getting. He scrapes his nails against Brock's scalp, tugging on his curls, giving him full pillowy pout.
Brock sighs, "Mmm, Papi. I missed this," and those damn tingles race through him like sparklers. Brock curls against him like a kitten, kissing him playful and thorough. He tastes like Brock, familiar and comfortable and right.
It don’t even feel as weird as it should to kiss his best friend.
Even though for twelve years he was Brock, the ho Jose wouldn't go near with a ten foot pole cause he ain’t stupid. Now he’s being kissed like this, careful and full of worship, he’s suddenly the Brock Jose had all the hopes and dreams about back when he shoulda known better, the Brock that made his knees weak, made him forget his damn name.
“Wanna do this at my place?” Brock murmurs, against his mouth, sure and warm, between brushes of his tongue, and every fiber of Jose's being says fuck yes so he don’t stop his mouth when it says it out loud.
Fuck it. He only turns 40 once. You're allowed to make a bad decision half drunk with your best friend once a decade, right?
He just hopes it won’t take him til his next birthday to get over it.
It ain't gotta be a big deal. Brock seems perfectly happy about it. Jose is mature enough now to not get hung up on a boy with no chance of a future. Especially this boy. Brock ain't his dream man no more, he's his shady best friend. He knows every disappointing thing about Brock. He shouldn't have a problem waking up and being just friends again in the morning. This time he already knows ain't nothing gonna come from it except the two of them.
He also knows he'll come good with Brock. The universe went and blessed him with birthday dick after all.
With Brock he ain't gotta worry if it's gonna hit the spot. He already knows that dick will hit so damn right. He never said the bitch ain’t talented. He remembers what that dick, Brock's mouth, them hands, can do to him. If he lets himself remember it, which he never does, he can get hard just thinking about how Brock used to hold his waist when they fucked.
He hopes Brock is feeling giving. Brock knows the mood he's in tonight, saw how ready he is to be dicked down, knows how clean his ass is. The bitch ain't give him no gift yet - he don't mind taking that dick as his present.
While he's feeling his fantasy Brock is grabbing his jacket and Jose's bag and shoving the last of their fries in his mouth in one giant handful of smushed potato.
This is the man he's already half hard for. Jose shakes his head.
“Um. We’re going. Bye,” Brock giggles to the room at large, curling into Jose's side, carrying his bag, being real fucking obvious.
Jose tries not to see the knowing smiles and pointed looks as the girls say goodnight and wish him happy birthday.
There were no whoops or reads when they kissed so Jose was hoping somehow none of these hos noticed.
Or maybe they were all screaming and getting their life and he was so far gone over Brock he didn’t even hear it.
He tries not to blush. He don’t wanna think about what the bitches will say once they’re out the door. He’s gonna need to get in first tomorrow, make sure they know it ain't nothing serious before Brock can be the one to seem more over it.
He tries not to think about after and what a bad idea this is for so many reasons. If he does he might not go through with it. Now they started this fuckshit, now he can taste Brock in his mouth, and feel the warmth of Brock’s hand on his ass, he really wants to at least do it all the way if he’s gonna regret it anyway.
Apparently big birthdays make him crazy.
He just focuses on how good it feels to let Brock wrap around him, hand under his shirt, mouth on his jaw, sucking on his pulse. How freeing it is to not resist it for once, as they stumble out to the kerb. To not have tell his heart to sit the fuck down when Brock breathes, "You're so sexy," in his ear and it flutters. To lean in to how right they feel together, the luxury he never allows himself.
“I don’t wanna fuck up our friendship though,” he tugs on Brock's hair until he looks at him, trying real hard not to undermine his point by sucking on Brock's bottom lip cause he looks so cute when he’s all earnest.
“Never, boo,” Brock’s eyes are wide and sincere. Jose is gratified to see he looks just as horrified at the thought. “We won't. It’s because of our friendship it’s gonna work.”
He don’t know what that’s supposed to mean. They fucked just fine before they were friends.
But their Lyft arrives and Brock’s hand is on his ass patting it and nudging him towards the car while he really wants to be backing right up into the smacks, so he don’t get to ask.
In the car Brock don’t act as drunk or horny as Jose expected. He sits respectful and quiet, drawing patterns on the inside of Jose’s knee and giving him looks that make him want to be naked.
It feels so surreal they really doing this, after years of avoiding it. Jose's mind is all quiet and hyper aware like it’s a dream.
Brock clears his throat awkwardly. He looks nervous.
“Um, so. I’m thinking we shouldn’t just do this because we said we would,” he says, soft and serious, hand wrapping possessively around Jose's thigh.
As though Jose had shit in mind when he agreed other than fuck yes, more please from the second their mouths touched.
“I think we should go all in. Do it for real.”
...Jose really hopes that means anal.
“You can go in all night, baby, you already know my ass is ready. Question is: you up to the mission?”
“Boo, I’m serious!” Brock giggles, squeezing his thigh.
So is he. Seriously confused.
“Bitch, me too!”
“Really, baby, I mean it. We should give ourselves a real chance,” Brock blinks at him sincerely.
“…at what?” Jose frowns.
Brock don’t seem to realize he don’t needa talk him into shit. He’s already sold. His asshole is so ready it's practically yelling at Brock on its own behalf, hungry for good dick.
“Intimacy,” Brock squeezes his knee again. “Kissing and sex and, you know, connecting...all the...love and stuff,” he says shyly. His fingertips trail up Jose's inner thigh, damn distracting. “I would really like that. Not just doing it for the companionship or whatever.”
Is Brock still talking about tonight? Cause they passed the point of just going back to Brock's to watch Netflix and order pizza about half an hour ago.
So...Brock wants the boyfriend experience? That’s dangerous.
But it’s not like he could do it any other way with Brock if they’re being real. So why not?
Brock is still looking at him in that intense way that makes him wanna unzip his shorts right there in the Lyft. The hand on his thigh is at the edge of his coochie cutters, teasing the hem, making his brain fuzzy.
“Sounds good,” he shrugs, voice rough with want.
Brock relaxes in relief, like that was the answer he wanted.
If only Jose knew the fucking question.
When they get to Brock’s, after kissing him breathless against the door, Brock opens it, turns over one shoulder and says,
“One second, baby.”
He scoots inside and shuts the door in Jose’s face.
Jose blinks at it, trying to act as sober as Brock.
He wonders if this has all been some kinda birthday prank to fuck with him. The annoying fucker probably would do some asshole shit like that and think he was funny.
Maybe Brock went to finally get his fucking present. Whatever shitty thing he got can’t be worth the anticipation.
He is not expecting when Brock opens the door and says,
“Okay, ready,” with a nervous smile on his face.
He takes Jose’s hands gently and leads him in.
There is a trail of rose petals and lit candles leading to the bedroom, like something out of a movie.
His jaw drops and Brock smirks at him proudly.
Ain’t no way the bitch laid it all out that fast.
So all the extraness earlier was...for real? But... why?
“Bitch, you planned this?” he gapes at Brock. “What?”
Brock’s shoulders raise smugly, pleased with his reaction.
“Just for you, boo,” he says sweetly, leading him by the hands to the bedroom, walking backwards and beaming at him. “Only the best for my guy.”
“Your who now?” Jose's eyebrows shoot sky high and Brock just giggles and tugs him forward.
Brock’s messy ass room is as neat as if Jose tidied it himself. Except his bed, which is covered in rose petals.
“Wait. I should probably put those other ones out. I don’t want Oliver and Henry the Second to, like, catch fire or something.”
Brock floats over and blows out the candles in the hall, leaving just the bedroom glowing like something out of a fucking romcom.
Brock swipes on his phone and a playlist kicks in soft from a speaker. The opening notes of Sam Smith’s How Will I Know float around them.
It’s too much. Jose starts to tear up, more out of frustration than anything. It feels like Brock is making fun of him but he can’t work out how.
“The fuck is all this?” he sniffs, rubbing his eyes furiously.
“Aw, baby,” Brock glides over. “Do you like it?” He pulls Jose's hands away and holds them, smooths thumbs under his eyes to catch his tears.
“What are you doing?” Jose pleads.
Looking at Brock’s hopeful, handsome face, he’s terrified how easy it could be to fall for the bitch again like the past thirteen years never happened.
He didn’t know how ready it was if he stopped pushing it back, still right there, and with Brock treating him so sweet, so eager to please him...it’s scary.
Even after all the years of being over it, even knowing what an asshole Brock can be, how annoying he can be, how he’s a great friend when he wants to be, loving and sweet and funny, even loyal in his way, but hard work sometimes, selfish mostly. And proud of it. Nothing like the perfect man Jose hoped for when they dated. Even knowing he’ll never be that - wouldn't want to be, would never try to be and couldn’t come close. Even seeing how he treats people without meaning to, with his heart in the right place and the best of intentions, and knowing that's not what he wants for himself. Still, with all his faults, nobody ever had this dangerous power over his common sense like Brock. He can't control it and it terrifies him.
“I’ve never loved anyone like I love you,” Brock says, low and quiet.
Jose feels electrocuted. He wants to smack him or kiss him, he can't tell which. His fists clench until he realizes he's holding Brock's hands and tries to unclench them, twitching.
“I’ve been trying all day to do this,” Brock laughs at himself nervously. “So, I’ve got, like, kind of a speech. It’s more like an outline of important points than a speech, speech. But I'm trying to give you all the romance," he gestures self consciously around the room, "So..."
Jose makes a noise, too confused for words.
“I know you thought it would never come to this, but I’m not mad about it. It wasn’t your first choice, but for me it’s...I mean, I know with how things turned out between us the first time…well, didn’t ...and I know, like, it’s me, but I…” Brock flaps his hands, flustered, and stares at the ceiling. He takes a breath and looks Jose in the eyes.
“You probably think I'm going to be so bad at it. I can’t promise I won't. But I promise I’ll try very very hard.”
Brock looks all earnest. The fuck does that mean? Jose knows they can fuck. He knows they’re good at it. He doubts Brock ever had bad sex in his life from what he remembers, and it's not like he woulda got worse with time.
So why the fuck is the quietest man in LA all chatty, making speeches, lighting candles, making him cry? Smoldering at him nervously in the dim light like Jose is supposed to get it.
Right when he needs to be shutting the fuck up and using that pretty mouth to kiss Jose. He didn't just potentially ruin a decade long friendship to not get fucked so good he forgets his own name. To end up crying instead over some damn rose petals.
“I can do loyalty. I really think I can. I know how important that is for you,” Brock blinks sincerely. “But can you maybe, like, not get more intense about it than we need to be?”
“You know I’m joking when I call you a ho. Bitch, you a romantic same as me. You just got a fucked up way of showing it,” Jose answers automatically, even though he still don’t know what they talking about. Brock was the one getting possessive at the club. He ain't been obvious with his jealousy in years.
But he always snaps back when loyalty comes up, because that’s a sore subject for them.
“Okay, good. Great,” Brock sounds relieved, encouraged. He smiles sheepishly.
“And maybe, like, at some point down the line, we could try group?” he rushes out, barely audible, “If you’re comfortable!" He adds quickly. "It’s not, like, a dealbreaker for me. You should talk to Steve, though. I think you'd like it, boo. You could be in control of everything. You love that.”
“Damn right I...Wait. What?”
Brock wants to invite some guy named Steve to join? Tonight?? This is going left real fast.
He narrows his eyes at Brock. The bitch don’t look drunk at all. He’s stumbling over his words but only cause he's nervous. This is starting to feel like a set up.
“And, realistically I probably won’t tidy my shit very much. I know you really hate that. But if you wanna keep things neat I wouldn’t be mad about it?” Brock says hopefully, and Jose is so confused.
He sure as fuck ain’t wiping up no come stains on his birthday, if that’s what Brock is asking.
"You know I'm vers now..."
Thanks to the Vanessa Vanjie School for Bottoms. Cut the check, bitch.
"...but I'll fuck you as much as you want..."
Now he's talking. Bitch, finally.
"...as long as you do the same for me too?"
Hold up, all that tonight is ambitious, even for Brock.
But, look. If Jose gotta serve top right now to get the talking over and get his birthday sex going then you gotta do what you gotta do. He can give Brock top, down.
"Of course," he strokes up Brock's arms, catching Brock's chin confidently, giving masc trade. "Baby you gonna look so pretty on my dick."
He smacks Brock's ass, hard as he can.
Brock gasps and swoons into him, arms resting delicate on his shoulders.
"Fuck," Brock breathes, so visibly turned on Jose is half hard. "Papi," he sounds dreamy and devoted.
Jose leans in, chasing his mouth, ready to kiss like a top.
"Not now," the ho leans away, dazed but teasing, a happy look in his eyes. "Or I'll never get all this out." Brock is blushing. "But, believe me, Papi, we need to come back to this. Like, regularly."
He giggles and pecks Jose's mouth, soft and promising, leaning back when Jose tries to kiss deeper, hands playing with the hair at the back of Jose's neck.
“Also, remember, I’m very good at eating butts now. I've had glowing reviews," he grins. "And I’m open to notes,” Brock blinks, all sincere, like he at a job interview.
“...what the fuck are you…”
"I won’t even make you shower first...Unless you, like, just pooped…”
Jose steps back, hands on hips. Brock blinks, surprised, extra soft since Jose's little top moment.
“Bitch, my ass is fresh as a breath mint. Twenty four seven, three sixty five.”
How dare he? Don’t he know him at all?
He wasn’t expecting his ass ate tonight anyway. If he was he wouldn’t have gone home with Brock. The only ho in the world who made him feel guilty for having a human butthole at the same time he was turning his legs to jelly with his tongue.
“Yes, I know,” Brock smiles happily. “It’s one of the many things I love about you.”
What…
...what?
“I promise to always support you and respect you, and to always listen to you…” Brock says very sincerely. “I mean, unless you’re being too loud or saying something stupid,” he adds, smirking softly.
Jose makes an offended noise.
“And I promise to do my best to never get ugly.”
“You could never,” Jose mutters automatically. “Your ass gets sexier with age, it’s damn annoying.”
“Thanks baby,” Brock grins, pleased. "I do have more nose hairs though."
"Bitch I know. They out of control."
Brock giggles. "I think I'm starting to get ear hair too. It's very depressing."
"Why the fuck you think I care about the hair in your ears?" Jose feels like he's losing his mind. His fists clench and unclench as he tries real hard not to start yelling and ruin the night. Don't help that he ain't exactly sober. "Long as it ain't so long it's wrapped around your dick so you can't fuck me, bitch why we gotta talk about it now?"
Brock hesitates, looking awkward.
“Okay... I’ll kill you if you tell anybody this, but, actually, like, twice this summer my dick didn’t…” he gestures. “I mean it kind of did but not enough to...It just wasn't happening. I switched to Zoloft, though, and it’s fine now!" he adds quickly. "I was also stressed. I still want sex. Well, like, most of the time. Sometimes I’m old and tired and I just want cuddles...”
“Wait…”
Is Brock trying to tell him he brought him all the way back here, did this whole production, and now he don’t wanna hook up?
And if he don't, why is he looking at him like that? It's a more intense version of how he been looking at him lately, all soft and significant.
“And don’t expect romance like this every day, boo," Brock grins. "If you want to do nice things for me I won’t be mad,” he smiles to himself. “But you know that's not me at all. Special occasions only, okay? And I’ll still need, like, alone time. A lot.”
...So Brock's asking him to leave now? He can’t keep up with this bitch.
“...but I can compromise on spending time with you too. I mean, I like it, it's not a compromise. I see you most days anyway...so it won’t really be different." He smiles to himself again. “...And I’ve already seen your morning mullet, so that's good,” Brock smiles warmly.
“Who you telling about the mullet?” Jose points a suspicious finger at him.
That shit is serious.
Brock, Silky and his mom are the only people alive who’ve seen it without any product and they're sworn to secrecy. Even when he was married Jose used to get up an hour before his husband so he could style his hair and sneak back to bed before his husband got a look at what he really committed to.
“Nobody, baby,” Brock giggles fondly. “I’m saying there's no way we'll get tired of pretending to be cute for each other, because we literally don't."
This better not be Brock’s way of letting him know he’s gonna be an asshole tomorrow if Jose wakes up in his feelings.
Assuming they get to fucking. At this rate it’ll be morning by the time Brock’s done talking. It might be the most he ever heard Brock speak.
Jose starts unbuttoning his coochie cutters himself. If Brock ain't gonna do it, he's taking the initiative. He fumbles with the button with his tipsy fingers. Brock frowns at him.
"Wait. Are you drunk?"
"Bitch, of course! You ain't?"
"How drunk?"
"It's my birthday," he says, because the answer's obvious. He's ain't as wasted as he could be but he drank a lotta shots.
Brock frowns deeper.
"I don't want to do this while you're drunk, boo."
Jose blinks at him, mystified. They wouldn't be doing it at all if he wasn't.
"I ain't that drunk," he frowns. He's drunk enough to give in to to his impulses but sober enough to know what he wants.
Now he's thinking about it he's a whole lot clearer than he felt an hour ago from trying to concentrate on all this fuckshit. Practically sober if he ain't gotta undo a tiny button.
"I'm sober enough," he insists, pressing against Brock.
"Oh. Enough for what?" Brock looks so amused Jose kinda wants to smack him. He's supposed to be turned on not laughing at him.
"To know how much I want you," he says as seductively as he can and pulls at Brock's shirt.
"That's very nice," Brock smiles, soft and pleased. "But I would like you to remember it, sorry."
"You confident it's gonna be good," Jose raises his eyebrows, ready to tease Brock into throwing him down on any kinda surface.
"You know it'll be good," Brock grins back. He wraps his arms around Jose smothering him in a disappointingly chaste hug.
"It's not a big deal. Let's just sleep, boo. I'll do it for you in the morning. Bright and early and sober," he squeezes Jose's sides and kisses his cheek.
Then the bitch goes to brush his teeth.
Jose follows him to the bathroom, mouth hanging open in shock and when he gets there Brock is really putting on Creme de la Mer like he ain't just got Jose all worked up and then shut him down on his birthday.
"Want a toothbrush?" he says around a mouthful of toothpaste. He gets one out of the bathroom cabinet, fully wrapped, looking proud of himself. There ain't no way he got that for him so Jose don't wanna know what kinda AirBnB revolving door dick he been giving that he keeps new toothbrushes for the trade. He wonders if Brock pulls this shit with them too.
"You serious?" he gives him a look.
"Nobody wants cavities," Brock spits and grins.
"This some catfish shit, bitch. You got me here under false pretenses!"
Brock giggles like he's joking. He ain't.
"Patience, Papi. We waited this long. What's a couple more hours?"
Brock takes a toothbrush holder outta the cabinet and places it next to his own with a flourish.
That's a little much for the trade.
"There's space for your Fenty Beauty here if you want," Brock looks shy and pleased as he sweeps all his lotions and potions a couple inches over.
Jose just looks at him, confused. He don't bring his full skincare range out to the club. And even if he did (which, if any ho did, that's fair, he would be that ho) why is Brock disturbing all his stuff for him to put it there for one night?
"It's crazy, right?" Brock smiles, like they in on this together.
"Bitch, mmhm," Jose says vehemently, because crazy is the word for it and he feels like the only sane one.
"It's very nice to know you can't wait either," Brock grins conspiratorially and drapes his arms over Jose's shoulders delicately. "Since it's your birthday, I'll let you cuddle. But only tonight. And maybe a little in the morning since we'll be celebrating," he grins.
"But..."
"Nope. Sorry. You know I need my space," he smirks and presses a minty kiss to Jose's lips.
Only tonight is what Jose is tryna do. Brock is the one drawing shit out longer than it needs to be.
So Jose finds himself wrapped up in Brock's arms, thoroughly confused and sexually frustrated, being snuggled within an inch of his life, and exchanging lazy kisses. Brock keeps working him up til he's grinding against his thigh and pulling back so they can't go further. Can't even come. Gently holding his hips, not squeezing his ass like Jose wants. Brock seems perfectly content to keep this shit up forever, so peaceful he could fall asleep any minute, making breathy moans into his mouth.
"Why you playing?" Jose growls. "Stop." He grabs Brock's ass and forces their dicks together, gasping when he feels how hard Brock is. Their pants are off so he feels everything but Brock made them keep their jocks on.
"Nope," Brock smiles against his lips, tilting his hips back. "I'm not taking advantage of a drunk."
"Bitch..."
"Even though he's a very cute drunk," Brock kisses him softly.
"You ain't taking advantage," Jose chases his mouth. "Baby I want you to fuck me." He hates how desperate he sounds. "I want you so bad. Brock. Please," he kisses his neck, growling in his ear. "Fuck me. Please."
He closes his eyes cause it's damn embarrassing but he's so far gone he can't help it. He shouldn't have ate those fries neither. This is a night of questionable decisions and begging his best friend to fuck him is just one of them.
He can feel Brock's heart rate kick up, pounding against his chest, and Brock's eyes go dark.
But Brock just smiles dreamily at him, looking so pleased with himself.
"We have our whole lives for that."
The fuck does that mean? Brock is on some shit if he thinks Jose is gonna let him play him like this for any length of time.
He wouldn't even be here if the ho wasn't so irresistible. He should wear a hazard warning.
Brock rolls them over, kissing his shoulder and snuggling him tight. It's only because his guard is down remembering how good it feels to be held by Brock and not have to pretend he don't want him that Jose tolerates it and before he knows it, begrudgingly slips off to sleep.
///
"Morning sunshine," he wakes up to Brock handing him a water and an Advil at a time that is technically still last night.
"Bitch, why you think my old ass wanna be up at the ass crack of dawn?"
"Bitch, I couldn't sleep. I was too excited," Brock grins like it's Christmas morning.
That's...cute. If he's about to give passionate morning sex, yesterday's clownery could be forgiven.
It should maybe worry Jose that he wants to fuck Brock just as bad completely sober as he did last night. He tries not to think about it. He's already in this shit now. May as well make it worth it.
He takes the Advil. Even though he wasn't that drunk he got a little headache starting cause he went in on the shots and alcohol is a bitch when you're old.
"I thought maybe we could go watch the sunrise up at Runyon," Brock looks hopeful, already dressed in sweats and hiking shoes.
"...you joking?"
Jose stares at him, unimpressed, and Brock laughs.
"We don't have to if you don't feel like it," Brock comes to sit on the bed and strokes under his chin, sweet and focussed on him, and it's more intimate than he was ready for with no warning.
"It's just...a nice place to do something special," Brock grins like he got a secret. "It's really pretty."
"Baby it could look like RuPaul had a baby with motherfucking Rihanna, I ain't dragging my ass up no mountain before it's even light out. That ain't how we starting my 40s."
"It's technically a canyon."
"No means no."
He ain't against getting a little naughty outdoors in public as a rule but Brock is on some shit if he thinks they going to fuck on top of a canyon at this time of the morning.
"Okay. Back to Plan B," Brock smiles affectionately at his grumpy yawn and kisses him on the mouth.
"Mmm. You taste like ass. Brush your teeth," he grins.
Jose makes an offended noise. "As if you know what ass tastes like."
"Bitch!"
Jose goes to brush his teeth with Brock's outraged gasp laugh behind him.
He don't like being told what to do but he don't wanna sit there knowing he got bad breath. He pulls on his clothes from last night on the way cause he ain't about to prance around his friend's living room in just his jock. He ain't Brock.
When he walks back in the bedroom, Brock lit the damn candles again, looking magical in the soft light of dawn. He's fussing with the rose petals they swept off to sleep, scooping them back onto the duvet.
Jose raises an eyebrow at him, cocking his hip. Wondering what shenanigans he got in store and why he thinks he gotta impress him when Jose knows exactly how romantic he ain't and don't care.
It might be presumptuous assuming Brock still wants to hook up. Sober, with Jose's pre-styling pillow-mussed mullet on full display.
Brock grins nervously and starts his little playlist again. Nat King Cole kicks in with L-O-V-E. Jose's breath catches.
Maybe not so presumptuous.
Brock comes over, takes his hand and twirls him around the room. He pulls him close and sways them together, smiling softly down at him. Jose swallows a lump in his throat. He wants to ask what the fuck Brock thinks he's doing but he's dangerously close to crying. The asshole knows exactly how to push his buttons and he's being real cute about it.
"Do you mind if we do it now before breakfast? I really can't wait," Brock sounds nervous.
Jose nods yes, not trusting his voice. He gotta not get sucked into Brock making him feel like the only ho in the world. That's what Brock does and it never ends good if you let yourself get carried away with his cute ass. The second you get comfortable you wish you didn't.
Brock releases him next to the bed and turns around. He already misses being close to him.
“Okay, so…”
Jose watches with a puzzled frown as Brock glides over to his dresser and picks up a little velvet box.
"...ready for your present?" Brock spins back around giddy, anxious, brimming over with extraness.
"Yes..."
Jose's mind kind of detaches from his body and it seems like Brock is moving in slow motion as he watches him open the box, walk back over to him and kneel, holding up a ring.
“You’re amazing,” Brock looks up at him tenderly. “You’re the coolest, sweetest guy. You're so sexy and so kind and...fucking crazy too, but I love it, boo. I love you. I’m so lucky to know you, and love you, and I’m so happy we said we’d do this because there's no one I'd be happier to spend the rest of my life with. Not even Jason Momoa,” he giggles, like he’s being cute.
“You’d have to fight my mom,” Jose mutters numbly, dazed.
“So, will you do me the honor of letting me try not to be your shitty husband?” Brock’s mouth twists in a self-deprecating, but proud, smile.
Jose is frozen with shock.
He pinches the back of his own hand to make sure he ain't dreaming.
His first impulse is still that Brock musta been fucking with him this whole time, cause how could it be real? He almost laughs and shoves him.
But Brock is so painfully sincere and hopeful on one knee, waiting for Jose's answer. That ring looks very real, and it would explain all the weird shit...
A memory creeps in, slipping down Jose's spine like a chill. The two of them on his couch, over a decade ago, joking if they were both single at 40…
But they never mentioned it again. Jose forgot all about it. Brock couldn’t...
“You didn't...Shit...You thought I was serious?” he breathes incredulously.
Brock’s face falls.
He did.
“We was kikiing. Bitch, you know that was a joke. Ain’t no way you really thought just cause I’m turning 40…”
“I…uh...mm..." Brock looks lost, caught between shocked and distraught.
It hurts Jose's heart to see the crumpling look on his favorite face.
"Baby, I thought you just wanted to fuck."
"Well, I don't not want to fuck...." Brock mumbles, shrugging.
“Wait, wait, wait. How long you been planning this?” Jose looks at the stunning, very expensive looking ring. Brock snaps the box shut and drops it like it’s on fire, blinking fast and stumbling to stand, face clouded with disappointment.
“Nuh uh,” Jose presses on Brock's shoulders to keep him there. “How long?” He fixes him with a glare Brock don’t dare ignore, even though he’s embarrassed and wants to escape.
“I don’t know. Like, a couple months…” Brock mutters, fragile, in shock.
“You been wanting to marry me for months?” Jose is amazed.
“No. Longer than that,” Brock scoffs automatically, and then bites his tongue looking annoyed with himself.
“How long?”
“Forget it. This was stupid.”
Brock twists under his hands, upset, trying to get away. So Jose wraps his arms around Brock’s shoulders and straddles his lap so he can’t escape answering.
“Brock. How long?”
Trapping him with his body is usually Brock’s move but the fucker owes him answers after all these shenanigans.
“I don’t know, like, forever? Since I met you?” Brock sighs, annoyed. He looks away, blinking against tears.
“Not like, constantly,” Brock sniffs thickly. “Just, you’re the only guy I ever would. Or, I mean, I don’t even know if I can. So, you're right, it's just a joke." He inhales a shaky breath and starts crying for real, shoulders shaking.
"It was dumb." He shakes his head, wiping his eyes, looking mad at himself. "Very dumb."
"Baby," Jose's hands are in his hair, stroking his face, catching his tears. "Baby, no. I ain't saying marrying you is a joke. You know I wouldn't say that," Jose's voice is so gentle he hardly recognizes it. "I was joking when I said it, that's all. I thought we both was. Any ho would be lucky to marry your fine ass. You know that."
"Right. Cause I'm pretty," Brock sniffs, looking miserable. Jose rolls his eyes.
"You sexy as hell but you know you're more than that."
Brock got his crying under control and looks at him with soft eyes.
"Don't make me sit here and compliment you, bitch, your ego don't need it."
Jose is pleased when that gets a laugh outta Brock.
"It might need it a little bit right now," Brock says quietly.
"Well you already know what I think of you." Jose promised himself he'd stop saying all the sweet sentimental shit he thinks about Brock to him years ago when it didn't make no difference to them getting back together. He compliments him like a friend but he ain't said the deep shit since then and he should keep it that way, since they still gotta be friends after this. He looks Brock in the eyes and tries to will him to know it without words.
Brock sighs and wipes his face dry.
"This was so stupid. I'm sorry. I just...thought it was real. I guess I wanted it to be."
"What, back then?"
That was over a decade ago. He knows this bitch ain't been pining over him for a decade. He's seen the other men, Mary.
"Well, yes. The whole time, obviously," Brock looks annoyed.
"But you...what?...Why?" Jose is dumbfounded.
"I don't know...I thought it made sense! Why not? You’re the only person I might not hate being around all the time for the rest of my life," Brock shrugs. "And also very much like to kiss."
Adele starts singing Make You Feel My Love and Jose sits there on top of him trying to process this information.
It does make sense in a way. He’s always secretly been viciously proud of their friendship. Whenever he got intimidated by how close Brock was to his latest boo, it was never as close as Brock was with him. When Brock would glow with happiness and start wearing a whole new style of clothes so he knew he had some new ho he was looking up to, he also knew Brock would get bored with the new man eventually. But Brock never got bored of being his best friend.
Even ten years, countless men, and one brief ex-fiance later, he's still the only real boyfriend Brock ever had.
This is just not something he ever thought, in his wildest dreams, he’d hear from Brock.
Brock shifts, awkward, under his arms.
“...I’ve only been waiting to do it, like, a few years.”
“Years?” Jose chokes.
“Well, yeah,” Brock shrugs, all sniffly and cute. As though he ain't the ho who considers a 3 month relationship without putting any labels on it a good long run.
Jose blinks at him incredulously, aggressively, until he gets that he needs to explain himself.
“Um. I just thought about the deal a lot over the years. Like if ever I started feeling weird about being single. Or when I'd date great guys and think this is it, he's perfect, he could be the one, but it always wore off. I'd always feel trapped again. No one felt as easy and nice as just hanging out with you."
Jose involuntarily glows with pride.
"And it was hard enough when I was dating amazing guys. But get ready, bitch, because I'm telling you, the good men are harder to find this side of 40. It's a problem!" He insists when Jose laughs.
"Every guy lately is jailbait or, like, old old, or married and looking for a third. Which I'm not against, but like, it's not very romantic... Or you can tell why they're still single and they're just meh… It's depressing! So it was comforting to think, like, at least our pact is coming up if Jose's still single too. I started thinking about it, like, a lot. Sat at bars realizing I was becoming one of the lecherous old gays. Although at that point I still thought it was real...” Brock gives him a jokingly cold look.
Jose runs his hands through Brock’s hair, scratching his scalp. Brock leans into the scrape of Jose's blunt nails gratefully. Soothed by being petted, he looks less distraught. He looks in Jose's eyes and it's so much Jose can't look away.
"I know we don't talk about it, but, like, it's always still been there, right?"
Jose's breath catches.
It's taboo to say that out loud. They danced around it without saying it for over a decade.
"Right," he breathes, feeling surrounded by the way Brock's looking at him. Ain't no point in lying. They both know what they're talking about.
"I guess that's why too. It would be nice to get a do-over," he looks away sheepishly.
“You know for a long time I really hated the thought of marriage," he confesses softly. "It was this trap. This super Christian thing," he frowns. "Everything I was supposed to be one day and didn't wanna have to be and this oppressive institution this whole life sentence that felt, like, so not for me. And seeing my parents just stuck making each other miserable. I didn't see anything good about it. I never wanted to have to go through that. It was all...I always thought I'd never get to have it with a man anyway. So if I ever got married it was gonna be to a woman, and I'd hate it and be stuck and miserable like my mom and I'd always have this thing inside that was wrong, and it could never be...I could never marry a man I loved," he swallows, "So what was the point of it?" He's real choked up, and Jose's heart breaks for him.
He forgets, sometimes, how different their childhoods were. He had people who didn't like him acting gay, but the difference was the one person in his corner to protect him from all that, letting him be who he wanted, loving him exactly as he was...he's so grateful for his mom.
"I mean I know it's not a big deal now. We can marry whoever we want, like, woohoo," Brock says sarcastically, sniffing. "And I know plenty of people who are very happily married now. But marriage still used to remind me of all that. Which was a really dark time for me," he grimaces.
"That's why you never liked dating?" Jose asks softly, stroking the back of Brock's neck.
"No," Brock shrugs. "I mean I'm sure it probably had something to do with it. I've kind of been on my own since I moved out when I was eighteen. I mean, I wasn't like, thrown out, but I didn't really feel welcome as myself, so I guess I just got used to mostly being on my own. That became comfortable and, like, normal to me." He shrugs.
"But, not really, no. There's no big mystery why I don't love dating. I just get bored easily," a glint of mischief glows in his eyes. "But you're my best friend, so," he smiles softly. "I don't get bored of you," the smile becomes a grin.
"Now, annoyed, oh yes, but..." Brock smirks and Jose allows it cause all the sass means he’s getting his confidence back, how he should be.
"And you're very sexy. That's a nice bonus," he looks playful.
"But even if you were a thumb," Jose tuts at the very idea, "I don't mind spending, like, most days with you. Or making a deal to love each other and take care of each other. Or, like, having a plan for getting old. So we're not on our own. We'd have fun together. I've been thinking more about that lately than the bad stuff. I decided that's all marriage really is."
Jose thinks about his old Pinterest board full of mason jars and barns covered in bunting and DIY place settings. He thinks about his first marriage. His first divorce.
Brock's right. That's what marriage is. When the cute party's over and you got the rest of your life left.
"I thought... as long as it was with you, a lifetime commitment might not be so bad. Like, it could even be… nice,” Brock trails off softly, uncertain.
Jose's heart is beating so hard he can hear it in his ears.
“You’re probably my favorite person.”
Jose swallows around a lump in his throat. He don’t wanna interrupt any more nice shit Brock wants to say about him by bursting out crying.
“Well, like, top five,” Brock smirks and Jose smacks him affectionately.
“We're comfortable with each other. You get me. Like, you know when I want alone time without me having to say. And if you don't I can tell you to fuck off for a while," he says affectionately. Jose don't know why the fuck he finds that cute but he does.
"I never have to worry what you’re thinking. Sometimes I wish I did because you won't shut up," Brock smirks, "But I like that you're always honest, and you don’t care about offending me or telling me if I offend you…”
“Cause you shady, boo, and I am too. If we took the shit we say personally we wouldn't make it through one conversation.”
“Right. And that’s like, romantic for me.” Brock blushes. “Like, isn’t that the dream? Somebody who knows all your shadiness and loves you anyway?”
Jose feels flushed. He hopes his cheeks ain't all red, even though it's just Brock. He feels like he's smiling like a dumbass.
"Somebody who knows how selfish you are and can deal with it."
"Don't be dramatic, bitch, most of the time you ain't. Ain't nobody perfect, anyway. You put up with my loud ass and you hate that."
"The beauty of compromise..." Brock smiles like Jose is making his point.
Brock's fingertips are tracing patterns lightly across Jose's thighs. He don't think Brock knows he's doing it but it's making the heat in Jose's cheeks worse, and he don't wanna let Brock clock it in case he is doing it on purpose.
"...Somebody who still thinks you're hot when they've seen you at your most ugly."
"Bitch, as if you ever been ugly," Jose rolls his eyes. Even depressed in week old sweats the ho is cute. Brock is one of the most handsome men Jose's ever seen in real life. And he met Justin Timberlake once at the VMAs.
Brock smiles, soft and pleased, and his eyes light up.
“I mean, I’m not saying you’re not annoying. You’re very fucking annoying.”
“...this still a proposal?” Jose raises an eyebrow.
“But I already know the things that will annoy me. And I still think you’re the best," Brock smirks. "And you really do have the cleanest ass,” he pronounces gleefully.
Jose splutters. “Damn right."
"Why wouldn't I wanna marry you?" Brock shrugs. "Why wouldn't I think it's real? I mean...it's us. Who else would I marry? I thought you thought so too. I thought that's why we made the deal...that I now know we didn't actually make..."
When he puts it like that, Jose almost feels stupid for thinking it was a joke.
"I also...this is embarrassing...but I guess not more embarrassing than the guy you propose to thinking your proposal is a joke..." Brock mutters to himself. "...I kind of like the thought of having someone to be old with. It's not like I need it. I could keep having full conversations with my cats, being everybody's single friend, like, I could totally be happy ending up on my own. But I realized I could be even happier with a husband." Brock smiles shyly. "If the husband was you."
"So all this..." Jose gestures at the candles and flowers and the speaker that's now playing I Shall Believe.
"Well I was hoping this would be the last proposal you'd ever have, so I wanted to make it nice," Brock blushes.
"Baby, it's cute as hell. But why all the extraness if you already thought I was saying yes?"
"I hoped you'd say yes. But it's been, like, over ten years since we talked about it. You never know where someone else's head is at for sure...Or at all, apparently," he winces again. "You're not as easy to read as you used to be, boo."
That ain't a stretch cause he used to be an open fucking book when it came to Brock. Anything would be less than how extra he used to be.
"Though I never guessed you completely forgot it..."
"You never gonna let me get away with that, hm?" Jose rolls his eyes smiling.
Brock looks serious and shrugs.
"I mean, depends what happens now."
Shit. It hits him there ain't no going back from this. Brock is not just his best friend acting weird, or an ex he might hook up with. Brock's proposing to him.
"So she pulled out all the stops," he tries to keep it light. "All day, too, with the flowers and balloons, you wasn't playing."
"As if you'd accept a proposal that wasn't romantic, boo," Brock laughs. "And, I guess it sounds lame, but I wanted to make you happy. I wanted it to be nice for you," he looks embarrassed. "I like making you smile. It's nice," he blushes. "I meant what I said. I'd rather be in love with my husband, and I know you would too, and it wouldn't be hard for us to be in love with each other," he shrugs, self conscious. "So I was trying to start off on the right foot."
Jose pretends to peel the skin off next to his ears.
"What are you doing?" Brock gives him a teary-eyed version of the you're crazy look.
"Checking it's really you."
Brock laughs self deprecatingly and shakes his head. "Shut up." He squeezes Jose's thighs that are still wrapped around him to stop him running away.
Jose slides his hands down Brock's arms. Brock takes his hands in their laps and threads their fingers together, playing with Jose's rings.
"I guess I never really thought there was, but now I know there’s no perfect person who’s gonna show up and make it easy. Being with someone would always be work. Even with you. Maybe especially with you. I know I’d think you’re super annoying a lot of the time and have to talk myself out of, like, running away to Mexico…”
“Bitch you said annoying like three times...this supposed to be cute?” Jose raises his eyebrow. Brock giggles.
“Boo, you give yourself headaches. If I didn't say you can be annoying you'd think I was lying about the nice things too."
That's...Jose can't actually argue with that. But it don't mean he gotta think it's cute.
"Your ass can be annoying too," Jose pouts.
"Right. That's what I mean, boo," Brock grins at him, too damn handsome and charming for his own good. "We love each other anyway," Brock is starting to look way too smug for a ho whose proposal just got shot down.
"I don't know how to say this without sounding shady but I'm very confident I can make you fall in love with me."
"Bitch, really?"
"I did it once before," Brock shrugs innocently.
Jose wants to protest for the sake of his pride but he can't argue with that.
"What if I changed? That was a long time ago," he sniffs, doing his best to be aloof.
"You haven't changed that much. I know what you like. I'm your best friend," Brock is real sure of himself for a ho that was crying from embarrassment a minute ago.
"And you gonna give that?" Jose looks doubtful. "What you think I like?"
"Yep. And we can see if I'm right," Brock blinks enticingly at him. "Well, if you say yes."
This ho thinks he's slick. Jose's stomach squirms against his will, enjoying way too much that Brock is fighting for him.
"I see what you doing."
"I'm not trying to be subtle, bitch, I'm literally proposing," Brock laughs. "And since when do you like subtle? I love how unsubtle you are. Don't start now," he smiles fondly.
"I mean, real tea," Brock holds his hands and looks at him intensely. "Did we even stop loving each other anyway? I don't think I did. I mean, I love you as a friend but I also..." Brock shrugs. "...you know?"
Jose is so shocked he can't even answer. They don't say that shit out loud. They both know it's true but they don't say it. Ain't no good ever come from it. He manages to move his head up and down in a shocked nod that makes Brock smile shyly.
"Mmhnf," he says, eloquently.
All that time he spent being mad at Brock for picking the wrong option when he gave him an ultimatum he never really considered that maybe neither of them actually wanted to break up. They just wanted different things outta those next couple years.
"Maybe that's why I was bad at dating. Maybe I didn't really wanna be dating anyone else..."
This ho is slick, he knows exactly what he's doing. And even though Jose knows it, can see what he's doing, he can feel himself falling for it anyway.
Damn. He hates it when Brock is right.
"You know, sometimes you're not annoying at all," Brock ramps it up, serving serious seduction. Jose feels it wash over him like an electric current. "Sometimes you're the sweetest, sexiest guy," Brock squeezes his thigh, smiling warmly at him. "Sometimes I think about how lucky I am to have you."
Jose feels like he's getting hot flushes.
"How amazing you are."
He don't wanna let Brock know how good he's doing at this. It's embarassing how easy the bitch can push his buttons.
"If what we get is worth it, I don't mind trying to do the work. You're worth it to me. Maybe I should have said that before too. But whatever. I'm saying it now.”
“Shit. I see what you doing.”
"What?" Brock blinks innocently at him. "What if you were the right guy all along? What if it was just the wrong time?"
Brock looks up through his lashes at him, sincere and gorgeous, twisting the ring on Jose's finger like it's his to play with, and he can’t breathe.
"Don't play no more. You serious?"
"Very serious," Brock drops the seduction, he feels the energy change, and blinks at him softly.
“I know we said it as a fallback... and apparently you didn’t even mean it,” Brock frowns. “I should probably just pretend this never happened so we can never speak of it again, because it's very fucking embarrassing," he swallows heavily. "But, yeah, it’s kind of like, very real for me. So I think I have to fight for you, sorry.”
He holds Jose's eyes, embarrassed but determined. Jose traces his jaw because he's amazing.
“It's been hard for me, like, waiting," he breathes. "A lot of the time it’s just the two of us now anyway. We’re basically already married, boo."
Are they? They're best friends. Of course they love each other and do things together. Obviously he likes spending time with Brock more than anyone else.
It don't mean they're basically married. It's just cause he's Brock. Brock gets you feeling like that. He's always felt like that about Brock. Since the kisses in vans.
"If it's really a joke to you and I have to watch you marry somebody else one day, I'll be so happy for you, but I also might die little a bit. It would really, um, break my heart.”
For a bitch who barely tries to be, Brock can get real fucking romantic. He ain't even pulling his fuckshit now, as far as Jose can tell, that was real.
“So, there. You always want me to talk more about my feelings. Those are all my feelings,” Brock shrugs and won’t look at him.
“Bitch, you actually, for real, wanna marry me...?"
“Mmhm,” Brock breathes, glancing up at him warily.
“Like romantically?"
"Mmhm."
"Like walk down the aisle, rest of our lives shit, for real? Not just cause of some joke when we was babies.”
"I told you, I didn't think it was a jo..."
"Right, right but you was okay with that?"
"Yep."
"YOU?"
Brock smiles self deprecatingly "Bitch, yes."
"One ho for the rest of your life?"
"Mhmm."
"...and it's me?"
"Yep. It's you. If it was anyone else I'd stay an old spinster."
"But, for real, you really wanna?
“Yeah,” Brock shrugs gently. “Like, don’t you think... it could be nice?” he looks cautiously hopeful.
“...but you waited years to propose?” Jose knows he’s yelling now but he can’t believe it. "You decide you wanna spend the rest of your life falling in love with my annoying ass and you just...waited?"
Brock winces at his volume. “Well...yeah…”
“Brock. You shoulda said something,” Jose is mystified, voice cracking with wonder.
He thinks of all those meh relationships the past couple years, how desperate he was to find someone to love, pushing, making things not feel right, his mystical idea of true love and the dread of being single at 40 looming.
All that time he coulda been married to this asshole.
“Well we said when you turn 40. So…” Brock shrugs, looking lost again.
“For a smart ho, you are dumb as shit,” Jose pronounces decisively.
Brock frowns and opens his mouth to argue.
Jose kisses it.
He pulls Brock's hair and kisses him aggressively, grabbing his jaw, pressing as close to him as he can get.
Brock makes a surprised noise and yields, soft and welcoming, opening to his tongue, humming pleased.
Brock kisses so good. He should cause the ho gets enough practice but he forgot how good Brock is at kissing. It's even better sober. He can feel every stroke of his tongue and brush of his lips clear and thrilling.
Brock’s hands slide up his thighs, holding his hips, squeezing his ass, kissing him hungrily. Jose wraps arms tight around his neck, pressed up against him, kissing him thoroughly, an admonishment but also a promise.
When they need to breathe, he kisses Brock’s forehead. Brock blinks at him soft and hopeful. Jose traces his jaw.
Savage Garden comes on the playlist.
Brock really curated this shit.
He's amazed Brock even remembers. He remembers. He remembers everything. But Brock is full of surprises.
"Was that a good kiss? Or a no thank you kiss?" Brock has a cautious little smile.
“Ask me again,” Jose says, excitement shooting through him.
He bites his lip cause he wants to scream. He thinks of Brock tugging his bitten lip yesterday. How he tried all day to find the moment to propose, how nervous he musta been, and his heart swoops with affection.
He moans at the cramps in his legs when he stands.
"Too much kneeling, old man," Brock grins at him. His broad hands slide up Jose's legs, squeezing, releasing the muscles, and Jose thinks happily about a lifetime of Brock massages. He gets them as his friend but he could make him do a whole lot more as his husband.
Husband. He can't even process it right now.
Brock stretches his own legs out and smiles, cautious, but hopeful.
Jose jumps up on the bed, leaning back in the rose petals to enjoy the show, now he finally understands what the fuck is going on, even though it still don’t feel real.
Brock picks up the ring box from where he dropped it, gets back on one knee, dutifully. Jose takes a mental picture of him all cute. This boy who never stayed with a man longer than eight months, never called anyone else his boyfriend, who been waiting to marry him for years.
“Um, I love you very much,” Brock blinks, tearing up immediately. “You're very special to me. And I still think you’re hot. And fun. Which is, like, a lot more than some people get. I will try to be less shitty at it than you probably think. I think it could be nice. So will you please marry me?”
The way Brock's looking at him makes him wanna run up to the roof and scream. Jose knows every line, every inch of filler, on that face as well as his own.
“You’re fucking crazy,” Jose says, just for the record, cause it's rare he gets to be the one to say it. Then his face softens.
“I love you too," he don't know why he feels shy about it after all this but he do. Even though he ain’t had years to think about it, he knows his answer in his bones.
It swells in his throat, blooming like flowers. He distantly registers that this is it, his movie moment. Bitch, this was his great love story after all.
“Yes,” his voice is dreamy. “I’ll marry your ass. Baby, why not?”
Brock’s smile at his answer is so beautiful.
"You will?" he sounds so happy.
"Yeah. No joking. This for real now."
Shit. That smile is all his now. His man. He can’t believe it.
The pieces of love he chipped apart, pushed away, forced into the shape of a friendship when he thought it couldn't work with Brock are lighting up inside him, slotting back together. He feels full with it already, dizzy with freedom sinking into how right it feels with Brock, not having to push anything back. He ain't felt like this in years. Like things are how they should be. He shoulda known all along why it never felt completely right with nobody else after Brock.
His fingertips trace the definition of Brock's shoulders. They really doing it. This can all be his now.
He feels like his heart is stuck in his throat. He can hardly talk around it.
“You already know I was always yours if you wanted right?” he says, raw, around the love choking him.
His cheeks burn with the honesty, the vulnerability. It's scary. But he don’t care. He can be brave for love.
Brock did it, and he ain't gonna let Brock out do him.
“King of the World, baby. You know what you are to me,” Jose strokes his cheek.
Brock's eyes shine bright with affection. He swallows.
"Cool," he says.
Jose gives him a dangerous look.
“I’m kidding,” Brock giggles, the look in his eyes much warmer and deeper than the bullshit coming out his mouth.
“Boo, you have to let me be a little shady, otherwise I’m seriously gonna cry all over you again and that’s really not cute.”
“Everything you do is cute,” Jose holds his eyes, challenging his self doubt to go fuck itself.
Brock looks down and smiles uncontrollably.
“Stop it. Seriously, I’ve cried so much already,” he looks away, wiping his eyes.
“I mean it," Jose catches his jaw and makes Brock look at him. "King of the World. You always was for me. You know that. All you had to do was put a ring on it.”
“Took me a minute, huh?” Brock teases gently, eyes wet.
Jose gives him a look but there's no heat behind it, he’s too happy.
"Took my time but I got here," Brock sounds so content.
Jose's vision blurs. He’s crying too.
“Look at us,” he sniffs, shaking his head, and Brock wipes his own tears and grins at him.
“We’re so gay,” Brock says dryly. A laugh bursts out of Jose.
“Anyway who else gonna put up with my ass forever? You the only ho for the job.”
“I might go crazy but I’ll never be bored,” Brock smiles fondly.
“Baby, come here,” Jose holds his arms out, making grabby hands.
Brock is on the bed with him before he can blink, sliding the ring carefully onto Jose’s finger. They watch it go on in awe.
It fits. He’s surprised how well chosen it is for his taste while still being very Brock. The style is a little of them both.
He screams. Yells out loud. He’s so happy and excited.
Brock winces and grabs his ears.
“Oh shit. Can I take it back?” Brock’s shady ass deadpans, but he can’t keep the happy smile off his face either, and he’s crying again.
“Bitch, I’ll buy you earplugs.”
“Okay,” Brock swoons happily, kissing his shoulder. He really must be in love if that’s all he got to say about his favorite complaint, Jose’s loudness.
"Wanna take a picture with it?" Brock grins.
Jose shakes his head no vehemently.
"Right now? You seen my hair? It's a miracle you proposing."
"I think you look cute," Brock beams, ruffling Jose's hair the way he wouldn't dare if it was styled.
"I ain't even put on blush, did my brows or nothing."
"You don't have to have your head in it."
"I would still know," Jose says darkly.
Brock shakes his head at him.
"Well. Your fiance thinks you look sexy," Brock smiles, so proud and delighted. Jose is not prepared for what hearing that does to him.
“Kiss me.”
Jose grabs him, not gentle, and pulls Brock back on the bed with him. Brock giggles and comes eagerly, settling between his legs, a delicious weight on top of him.
Brock keeps murmuring, “Fiance,” and giggling happily against his mouth. Jose gets all hot each time he says it.
“It’s not even weird.”
“Hm?”
“Kissing you. This feels, like, normal, right?” Brock breathes between searing kisses.
“Mmhm,” Jose hums back, although normal don’t do it justice.
"It feels correct," Brock smiles against his mouth, clearly thinking along the same lines.
Brock is throwing his shirt off soon as he gets the chance, cause Lord knows, his boo loves to be naked. He undoes Jose’s, placing kisses on his chest between each button, taking his time kissing everything with soft lips. Then Brock’s hands are all over him. Framing his ribs, tracing his waist, holding his throat, his jaw.
“Baby, yes,” he sighs, feeling like he's floating.
It’s like they never stopped. Twelve years of friendship were intermission before they could pick up where they belong. With Brock pulling him closer by handfuls of ass, Brock's hips rocking into his, Brock kissing him everywhere, heady with gentle, devoted affection.
Kissing Brock is a revelation. He puts his whole focus into it, like it’s the main event. Not just a detour before other shit.
It's a good thing he ain’t gotta get over this. He already knows he’s so fucked, remembers under his skin why Brock was so hard to get over. Having Brock’s full attention on you is like heroin. Nothing else feels as good after.
He runs a hand down Brock’s perfect chest, the long creamy muscles that are basically his now, both of them looking at the ring.
"You gonna freak out tomorrow?" Jose looks up at him, trying his best to stay soft and not accusative so he don't spook him.
"No," Brock shakes his head, smiling softly. He tries to keep kissing and Jose stops him with a hand in the middle of his chest.
"Next week?"
Brock shakes his head more enthusiastically.
"I remember the last time you got engaged," Jose gives him a look, warning him not to pull some bullshit.
"This is completely different," Brock frowns. He sounds sincere enough but Jose has known his flighty ass thirteen years.
"Just text me if you run away so my ass ain't worried about you. And if you going, do it before we tell people or it'll be embarrassing and I'ma be mad, for real."
His younger self would smack some sense into him for being so chill about his new fiance potentially abandoning him.
He knows Brock so well now, though, he knows how deeply it ain't personal. The fact Brock even proposed is huge for Brock. That he thought about it for so long is very promising. That alone is already longer than he lasted with anybody else. They just gotta hope the reality lives up to what he been waiting for.
The reality of Brock is not what Jose thought he was waiting for, though, so you never know when things could work out. Julia Roberts wouldn't have gotten nowhere in none of her movies if she never took a chance on a man who loved her.
"I'm not running anywhere, boo," Brock strokes his cheek, looking at him soft and adoring.
"Sure you ain't," Jose's eyes flutter as they roll. "But you gotta text me if you do. So I can send someone to kick your ass."
"I promise," Brock says giving him a look that makes him melt. "And I also promise I won't need to."
Jose got butterflies in his stomach like he's fifteen again.
"So when we get up this morning this still gonna be real?" He asks, accidentally sounding vulnerable.
"Mmhm," Brock gives him a soft kiss, looking dreamy with dawn breaking across his face. "I thought maybe we could get breakfast with your mom."
Shit. That's so cute and familial he don't know what to do with himself. He's so pleased he blushes.
"She thinks you crazy after you deep throated her omelette."
Brock shakes with laughter between his legs.
"Oh shit. That was so awkward! I didn't know what to say so I ran away! I didn't know if you told her!" Brock shakes his head, visibly cringing, hiding in Jose's neck.
"We definitely need a do over. I want my mother in law to think I'm cool," Brock pouts and fireworks go off inside Jose at the words mother in law from Brock's mouth. "She's so cool. I don't want her to think I'm crazy."
"She's crazy. She loves you though. You know that."
Brock looks pleased with himself.
“You sure though?” Jose asks, tracing Brock's muscles. It feels so good he can't accept there ain't a catch. He's falling real hard and real fast and he needs to know if he gotta be prepared to land smack on his face and get bruises.
“Trying to back out already, Papi?” Brock grins warmly, rolling his hips into him, as if Jose needs more encouragement.
“No!” he smacks Brock's chest and they watch his engagement ring sparkle as it moves. His ADD ass can’t stop looking at it. He wonders how much Brock paid for it, how long he took to choose it, if he talked to anyone about it, what he said about him. If he called him his boyfriend to the person at the store.
Although, knowing Brock, he probably told the whole bet situation without even being asked.
“Good, because I’ve never been happier about a decision, boo,” Brock smiles, steady and certain between his legs and Jose's heart throbs.
“Baby, you giving me the fantasy, I live,” Jose scoops up rose petals and sprinkles them over Brock. Brock tosses his head like a princess as they fall on him and, oh, he loves him so much.
“You was waiting for the fantasy too, though. The romance. That's what you wanted.”
This proposal is everything but Brock deserves someone doing all this for him, too.
“You're what I wanted,” Brock smiles dreamily, dropping rose petals on his chest and spreading them across his skin, tickling.
"So you don't wanna be swept off your feet?"
"Hm?" Brock kisses the corner of his mouth. “Oh. Yep. I still do,” he says close to Jose's lips. “Feel free to start sweeping me any time.”
He smirks at him, a challenge.
Well, okay. Jose can do that. Everybody knows he can do romantic.
He could buy Brock a house. That’d be very Notebook. He sure ain’t no Patrick Brewer but Brock likes to think he’s David Rose, made him watch Schitt’s Creek enough times - it’d be very that.
Or a kitten. He could buy him a kitten and say they gotta go pick it up and when they get to the house it’s their house…
And it could be in Palm Springs, like they always said they wanted to be in their 40s...
His ADD mind races with cute ideas, determined not to be outdone, thrilling at the opportunity to get all romantic...
“But right now I really, really want something else...” Brock breathes, hot against his throat.
“What?” he wants to give it to him, whatever it is. Brock deserves it today.
“I want to suck my fiance’s dick,” Brock says in his ear, pressing him into the bed, smiling against his neck when he feels it jump against his stomach.
That might be the sexiest sentence anybody ever said. Jose's heart throbs in time with his dick.
“Do you know how annoying it is to spend years waiting to suck your dick?” Brock murmurs, kissing down his belly, opening his shorts before Jose even realizes and massaging him through his jock, laying his head on Jose’s stomach.
“Just waiting to make you mine,” Brock says to his skin.
Jose squirms with nervous energy, delight zinging through him and Brock has to hold his hips still.
“Having to fucking look at you all the time and just be patient.”
"Fuck. Yes," Jose breathes.
"You do?" Brock looks up, a curious smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
Jose swallows. Fuck it. Can't be more embarrassing than the other shit he said.
"Bitch every time you ever came near me, every time you touched me, since the day I met you, I had to stop myself kissing on you like I wanted. Riding you til we pass out."
Brock grins and slides up his body to kiss him deeply. "What a beautiful friendship," he hums against Jose's lips. They laugh at themselves.
"Every time you touched me it felt right," he sighs into Brock's mouth.
"I know," Brock runs a hand up his stomach.
Jose lifts his hips, a command for Brock to tug off his shorts. Brock kisses slowly down his body again and takes his jock off with his teeth, cause the ho is dramatic. He starts giggling when Jose rolls his eyes at him, but Jose's dick likes it, springing out like it missed him.
And then he’s naked in front of Brock for the first time since…
Well, hours ago. But if he felt exposed after his shower it was nothing compared to this. Brock looks him over hungrily and this time he lets himself be looked at, lets himself blush and burn under the attention.
“You got so chubby,” Brock sounds delighted, smiling at his middle aged belly.
Jose makes an indignant noise and pulls his hair for revenge, cause it ain’t like Brock’s body got flaws he can read. Brock sighs happily, enjoying the hair pull way too much.
“Remind me why I said I'd marry your shady ass?”
“Nooo, baby, I love it,” Brock smiles, running his hands over him. Jose forces himself not to suck in even though he wants to, cause it would be obvious and Brock would tease him more.
“It's sexy. Especially right here,” Brock rolls him over by the hip and smacks his ass, a sweet sting that makes him gasp into the pillow.
“It suits your butt. Makes it even juicier,” he can hear the smile in Brock's voice.
Brock rubs circles over where he smacked. He squeezes both cheeks, pushing them together and rolling his hips against them, hard against Jose's ass, the fabric of his jock between them.
"Baby, you have such a great ass."
"Fuck," Jose gasps, melting into the bed, so ready to get fucked out of his mind. It's gonna be even better than he ever imagined. It ain't just birthday sex. It's fiance sex. Sex with love. The hottest kind. Jose feels blindly around the bed for his shorts with the poppers. Brock catches his wrist and leans across his back, kissing the back of his neck.
"When you danced in my lap last night I wanted to bend you over in front of all our friends, young man," Brock murmurs in his ear, so soft and sweet it's a shock he's talking dirty. Jose gasps, impossibly hard against the bed.
"Don't tease," he whines as Brock rocks against him, brushing kisses along Jose's shoulder, rubbing the eleven inches he remembers between his cheeks without taking off his jock. "Do it now, baby, please."
Shit. Two seconds on his stomach and he's begging. His cheeks burn and he hides his face in the pillow. Brock might be his fiance now but he's also his shady best friend who loves to tease him.
"What about saving ourselves for our wedding night?" Brock says in his ear, a smile in his voice.
"Too long," Jose gasps, sticking his ass up as much as he can with Brock holding him down. "Unless we eloping right this second."
He don't even care how desperate he looks, he wants Brock in him so bad. Wants to see if he feels as good as he remembers. Wants to look in his eyes while he fucks him and see his favorite person and think about how this is his forever now. Wants to know what it feels like to have his fiance come in his ass, to remember what Brock's face looks like when he comes, to come so deep and right he feels it in his toes and get to look at Brock across the pillow after and tell him how much he loves him.
But Brock kisses the middle of his back, smacks his ass again and rolls him back over.
Jose stares at him, feeling like he missed a step.
"You ain't gonna fuck me?"
He tries to keep his eyes on Brock's face, not the dick straining against Brock's jock, but they keep flicking down and Brock sees and smirks at him.
"Oh, baby. I'll make you come so hard you see stars," Brock purrs, smiling proudly to himself, running a finger along Jose's twitching dick.
"And again after breakfast. Birthday boy," he smiles down at him, looking like a Greek God in the dawn light.
"But, nope. I shall not fuck you like that."
His eyes flash defiantly.
"Shit. Wait," Jose's eyes go wide. He scoots up on his elbows. "I thought you liked it now?"
For one second his whole life flashes before his eyes and Jose decides he's still gonna marry Brock even if it means a lifetime of coming on his back.
That is a worrying amount to love a ho.
"Oh no, I do. I like it a lot more than I used to."
That's what he thought. They kikied about it a lot over the years, the Re-education of Brock Hayhoe. When they first dated Brock was just beginning to find himself. He's grown a lot. Got all enlightened and enthusiastic about gay shit that used to scare him.
"But I still don't like rushing straight to butt stuff."
Brock scoots back to take off his jock. The dick is just as beautiful, long and thick as Jose remembers. His mouth practically waters.
"Baby, twelve years ain't no rush."
Brock laughs. He crawls back to him and spreads Jose’s legs with the carelessness of a dancer. Jose lets Brock stretch him wider than it burns, his 40 year old thighs not at all flexible at the ass crack of dawn, but he wants to impress Brock.
"I like to take my time." Brock brushes kisses against Jose's ankle, trailing them along his calf, up the inside of his thigh. "The build up is part of the fun," Brock smiles, enjoying what his soft little kisses are doing to Jose, who is trying very hard not to lose his shit.
He can't even keep his eyes open. Brock is too sexy. They keep squeezing shut when he tries to look at him.
"Since this will be my last first time with somebody ever," Jose's heart flutters, “I would like us to savor it.” Brock prounounces. He reaches the top of Jose's thigh and kisses the crease and Jose is so turned on. Brock mouths around his dick, sucking everywhere but where Jose wants him most.
"Okay," Jose pants, already so far gone for him. He's in his spell, helpless, wants to make it the best sex Brock ever had so he never stops wanting him like this. "You're so sexy. Fuck. Do whatever you want." He clenches sheets and rose petals in his fists.
"Whatever I want?" Brock sounds delighted. He pulls himself up to grin in Jose's face. He tweaks his nipple.
Jose gasps and nods his head yes, overwhelmed.
"Did I finally find a way to make you be quiet?" Brock smirks. "This could be very useful in married life," he looks so pleased with himself.
"Bitch, shut up and suck my dick," Jose's eyes roll.
Brock beams, like it's an endearment. "Yes, baby."
He pecks him on the lips and settles back between Jose's thighs, one hand squeezing himself. Jose has to close his eyes again cause he's so worked up he could come just from watching that.
Brock wraps a hand around his dick and licks the length of it eagerly, humming, "Mmmmm." Jose makes a helpless noise and Brock beams proudly.
“Fuck, baby, I missed your mouth. Suck it please,” Jose's bossy praise and commands start tumbling out.
Brock sucks on the tip indulgently, eyes dancing at him.
“Yes. Deeper, baby, please.”
Brock slides down further, mouth so wet, throat completely relaxed, a perfect dick sucking mouth, like he's perfect at everything, looking up at him, eyes dancing...
...and Jose’s hands shoot out and push Brock off him violently.
“Wait. The fuck was that last night about group?” He suddenly remembers.
Brock splutters laughter, choking on spit and precum.
“That’s what you would like to talk about right now?” He asks, politely amused. He laps at the tip of Jose's dick, moaning softly, to make a point. Jose clenches his whole body not to come in his mouth.
“Of my wonderful proposal, that’s that part you remember?” Brock is smiling like he’s delightful but he ain’t being cute, he wants to know what the fuck it was.
His dick twitches, smacking against Brock’s waiting tongue impatiently. It don’t get they gotta talk serious.
Jose purses his lips and gives Brock and his dick a look that says they better both behave.
“I said only if you want to,” Brock shrugs innocently, scooting his horny mouth up next to him on the pillow to explain himself like a respectable fiance.
Jose gives him a piercing look. “Baby. What do you think?”
"Not, like group group. Just, like, another person. Or two. Sometimes?"
Jose looks supremely unimpressed.
“Will you talk to Steve and Jon about it before you decide?” Brock runs a thumb over the cat on Jose's chest, real interested in avoiding his eyes. “If you still don’t want to, it's fine, we never have to.”
When Brock dares peek up, Jose gives him a skeptical look.
But he don’t feel burning rage like he woulda thirteen years ago. He's even a little bit curious. At least Steve means advice from their friend Steve, not some random ho Brock’s planning to invite for a candlelit threesome on his birthday.
It’s kinda hard to be too mad about anything the day he got engaged to the man he suspects might be the love of his life after all.
Steve and Jon are one of the most in love couples he knows and they been married nearly fifteen years. If works for them there could be something to it.
His love for Brock is different than thirteen years ago, too. Settled, deep, affectionate, playful from their friendship. Not the dreamy, passionate, possessive, hot headed, irrational thing it used to be when he was still getting to know him, caught in that big old crush where he convinced himself Brock was perfect and let Brock drive him crazy when he wasn't.
He can feel how it could get more romantic now than before. The chemistry is still there and now they know each other inside out from eleven years of closeness. He knows for sure Brock ain’t nowhere near perfect. But he also knows it ain't as bad as he thought before he really knew Brock. He got years of seeing what Brock does when he ain’t texting boys back, so he knows it’s almost always watching some British period drama, dyeing a wig or leaving his phone behind on a hike. Not cheating.
The ho used to have an offensively short attention span, distracted by anything with a beating heart and a dick, when they dated. But he just waited years to propose. He never woulda done that before. He deserves a chance to see if the rest is different too.
Brock is a shitty communicator and a big flirt but a good person.
“It's like you said at the club, you’re the most important. So I would never push us to do something that would make you sad,” Brock gives him wide sincere eyes.
“I don’t even know if I'd like it. I've never done it before. Could very possibly be too much effort,” his old ass laughs.
“I just think the idea seems cool. It could be nice to try things together,” Brock traces the flowers around the cat with one finger, following the swirls down his sternum. “I'm trying to be proactive."
"That code for ho?" Jose frowns.
"No," Brock winces. "You know commitment has...not been easy for me. I don't want that to happen one day with you."
"You think it's gonna?" Jose raises his eyebrows.
Here comes the bullshit. Where was this in the proposal?
"No," Brock says firmly. "Well. I mean, I don't know. It's not like I can control it. I don't want it to," he adds, worryingly fast. "That's why I'm planning so it won't," he says proudly. "So I can have the best chance of sticking with it."
"It?" Jose wrinkles his nose. "I ain't a juice cleanse, bitch, I'm a person," Jose feels vulnerable now, spread out naked with this ho. His heart is already in his hands, and, too late, he's starting in on this shit.
"No, I know you are," Brock is flustered. "I mean without it getting scary."
"Bitch, I ain't scary!" Jose yells, a sharp sting of hurt in his chest.
He shoulda known. Fuck. You only remember the good shit. You forget about how this part feels.
"Loving me ain't scary! You should be so lucky, ho."
"I know, I know," Brock fusses over him like he's putting out a flame, catching his hands so he can't turn away. "Papi, of course. Baby. I am so lucky. You're a person. The best person. The most important person," Brock kisses him, keeps kissing him until Jose unclenches.
"You know what I mean. I'm bad at talking about feelings." Brock smiles sheepishly, so obviously in love it's hard to stay mad at him.
“I really don't want to upset you," he frowns, looking kinda sad himself, and Jose's heart goes out to him. "I’m being honest because I want us to have the best chance.”
Jose nods, accepting that at least. "Continue."
"You know I would never cheat on you, don't you?"
Jose reluctantly nods his head yes. Brock knows in great detail what he thinks about cheating. How he defines it. He's listened to Jose wax lyrical enough over the years. So weirdly, even though it's Brock, the least reliable ho he ever dated, he ain’t never felt safer or more comfortable with a man. After twelve years of friendship he trusts Brock would never do something he knows would hurt him, in a way he couldn’t when they only knew each other a couple months.
"So it's not that. I wouldn't ask you to marry me if I still wanted that kind of freedom more than I wanted this," Brock is so serious he almost sounds cold.
"I just thought it could be a way to feel kind of, like, butterflies," he mumbles, self conscious.
Jose looks unimpressed. "Butterflies?"
Brock pouts. "Butterflies. You know, like, the will-they, won't-they, what's gonna happen feeling. That's the thing I'm scared I'll miss. So if I could have that, but you'd be there too...Like, I thought...we could feel it together?"
Jose don't hate it. The logic is kinda cute, in Brock's fucked up way. But he don't love the idea.
When he frowns and says nothing, Brock gets self conscious and backtracks.
“But being with you, becoming cranky old men together, making each other happy...like, that's obviously more important. So if you hate it, it was just an idea, it doesn't matter. All that matters is us,” Brock shrugs, all cute and worried and hopeful. His finger glides over and bops Jose’s nipple like punctuation.
So Jose twists his nipple in retaliation. Brock raises an eyebrow, eyes alight cause he likes it. So Jose has to flick it, harder, cause that's a challenge. Brock runs hands up his ribs, turned on, and kisses him deeply.
“That’s nice,” he says, putting Jose’s hand back on his nipple.
Jose plays with it for a minute cause the kiss Brock is giving, his soft breathy noises, drive him out of his mind. He runs his nails through the happy trail he ain't allowed himself to look directly at in years, sucking on Brock's bottom lip, and wraps his fist around Brock’s dick before he even realizes what he's doing. He been thinking about it too long, he had to touch it, feel it hot in his hand again. He pulls up and twists, just to check if that's still how he likes it. Brock gasps into his mouth, and he realizes he got carried away.
“Wait, wait, wait,” he pushes Brock away by the shoulders, mind on the cock hard in his hand, thumb swirling around the top and tracing the edge while he thinks about what Brock said before the nipple distracted him.
That was Brock trying. Trying to give him what he wants but get something he wants too. After 40 years hoping for more romance from men he liked, trying to make it work with the ones who served what he wanted and finding they couldn’t hold his attention, couldn’t keep up in conversation... maybe he ain’t crazy if he thinks coming from Brock that's a cute offer.
Even if his younger self would whoop his own ass. Brock ain't the only ho more open minded in old age.
It's kinda fair, if he gets all of Brock, all the time, in a way he never dreamed he could have him, to try and give Brock the only thing he's asking for. He ain't about to force shit, he might hate it in the moment and that would be a different story, but picturing it right now...he could try it.
Brock is watching him, turned on and confused, as Jose plays with his dick, tracing the old familiar veins, while he thinks it over.
It ain’t a Disney movie, but it’s enough. He ain't his younger self no more. He’s 40 and from where he’s lying, underneath 180lbs of sexy, hopeful, eager Canadian, it ain't a bad deal.
“Maybe on the group shit. I ain’t saying more than that,” he decides, skeptical.
Brock beams like it’s the greatest gift. He rolls fully on top of him, crushing him, and kisses him tenderly, like a promise.
“Maybe is great. Thanks, Papi,” he purrs between kisses.
“I love your lips,” he murmurs. Jose puckers, indulging him in pillowy kisses.
Jose pushes up and rolls them to get on top. He pins Brock's wrists to the pillow and Brock goes wide eyed and soft beneath him, blissfully happy. Jose straddles him and looks down at him stretched out, gorgeous and trusting and eager beneath him.
That's his man. As long as he can do it, he wants to give him whatever makes him happy.
Brock looks up at him, soft and affectionate. Jose rolls his hips and their dicks slide together.
"I knew from the minute I saw you I wanted you."
"At the pageants?" Brock smiles up at him.
"Mmhm," Jose rolls his hips again. "You was all mine. You just didn't know it yet."
"Thank you for letting me know, boo," Brock smiles like an idiot, happy to be held there while Jose rubs up against him.
"You all mine now?" He flushes a little asking, but Brock knows how much this shit does it for him. He can see the twinkle of it in Brock's eyes.
"Yes," Brock says, beautifully sincerely. "Are you all mine too, baby?" he asks, because he can tell Jose wants him too, a flash of delight in his eyes.
"Yes," Jose flushes hotter, feeling shy. “Mmm,” he sighs, every part of his body feeling so good. “Baby.”
“Papi, you’re so sexy,” Brock smolders up at him, breathless and delighted.
He tries to reach for Jose's waist and Jose holds his wrists tighter. Brock thrusts up instead, rubbing against him.
Jose leans forward to kiss him, and Brock uses the momentum to roll back on top of him, pinning the only wrist he can reach to the pillow next to Jose's head, a playful gleam in his eyes.
"Thought you was sucking dick?" Jose raises an eyebrow at him.
"Mmm. That's breakfast."
Brock smiles happily, pecks his lips and rolls their hips together, thrusting, a steady rhythm that makes them both sigh.
"So what's this?"
"This is more fun now."
Jose makes a noise of agreement, feeling pleasantly surrounded. He gets one hand in Brock's hair and one on his ass and rocks against him in the rhythm he wants. Brock follows eagerly, letting himself be directed, sighing in his ear.
Jose’s phone buzzes in his shorts.
Jose takes his hand off Brock’s ass and gropes for it, still panting into Brock’s mouth until Brock realizes what he's doing and his hips still.
“Seriously?” He pulls back to stare incredulously at the side of Jose's face. “If I tried that you’d divorce me.”
“You keep up this attitude, I still might.” Jose kisses him so he knows that was a joke and stretches, fingers closing around the phone.
“It’s my mom,” he shows Brock.
He holds it between them, answering on speaker. She’s staying at his place so she didn’t have to drive back and he didn't see her after about 11 last night so he better check she okay. He won’t be able to enjoy making his new fiance come if he don’t find out what she gone and done to his house.
Brock’s hand is still on his ass and he can’t stop looking at Brock’s collarbone, thinking about biting it, but he says,
“Ma?” when the call connects.
“Baby, you gonna eat this Huevos or I can have it? I drank too much tequila, I gotta eat,” his mom half-yells, the sounds in the background making it clear she is rooting through his kitchen. “Ooo, french toast!”
They both crack up laughing.
“You can eat it,” he says, fixated on how handsome Brock’s smile is as his eyes dance at him with amusement.
It’s always been that handsome but now he’s allowed to think it as much as he wants, because now Brock wants to marry him.
There's the sound of his mom dropping something, and he thinks he can hear music in the background.
"You just get home?"
"I met some girls outside the club! They were so nice. We went to a party in the Hills."
Technically it was partly Brock's job to stop that shit happening. But since he knows what Brock was doing instead he ain't mad. Silky's ass, however, should know better.
"Ooooo, it was a night. Baby, I thought I lost my phone, walk all the way home, get in like a hour ago, you never guess: the phone was in my bra."
"Ma, you too much," so much for getting breakfast. He rolls his eyes at Brock, who looks scandalized and impressed.
"Did you have a good night?"
"Of course, baby, you know it! Only once my special son turns 40."
Jose pulls a face at Brock and he giggles.
“You still out?” his mom asks, when she hears laughter.
“Naw, just with Brock,” Jose grins at Brock conspiratorially, feeling suddenly shy. Brock squeezes his ass and grins back.
“Why he bring you this food anyway? Something up with that boy today. He had a weird energy. And, you know, last time I was here too. I know you ain’t gonna wanna hear this but I think he likes you baby.”
“Uh, ma…” Jose smiles, watching Brock silently snicker, but she talks over him.
“A mother know these things! I know he ain’t perfect, you got some history, but baby, no offense, at your age, who don’t? You ain’t getting younger. You want what I got for yourself, you could do a lot worse than Brock.”
Brock nods his head proudly, all cute, and buries his face in Jose’s neck, smirking, but his mom ain’t done.
“He got a lot to offer. He's so handsome, got that nice bank account, you both doing good in your careers, you’re friends, you know, you can talk to each other. He listens to you. You can tell him if he’s being a dumbass. He might not do nothing about it but you know he gonna listen.”
“Mmmhm,” Brock hums in his ear and kisses his jaw. Jose pulls his hair to shut him up and Brock practically purrs.
“Baby that’s important in a man. I know girls who got pregnant for less. I ain’t saying walk him down the aisle, but you should find out where that boy’s head is at. If he single. Maybe he ready to settle down now with a good man. People change when they get older. I think if you two try again you could make it this time. You could have something real good there, baby.”
Brock is laughing so hard Jose has to stuff his face into the pillow to shut him up.
“Who that laughing? Brock? Jose, am I on speaker? Baby, don’t do me dirty. Who there?” his mom demands. He hears her turn on his blender. He don't even wanna know what the fuck she blending.
Brock peeks an eye out from the pillow and Jose winks brightly at him, happiness rushing through him.
“Uh, actually, ma, we got something to tell you…”