Work Header

It's The Thought That Counts

Work Text:

Harold realizes just how horrible an idea it was to become roommates with Kumar when he finds a half-eaten burrito on his desk, right next to his laptop. He had to deal with Johnson's complete inability to file paperwork correctly all day, too. He sighs and bangs on Kumar's bedroom door.

"What the fuck is this?" he asks, when Kumar finally opens the door, his eyes red, his pupils dilated. Harold shoves the burrito into Kumar's face, just to make sure he can't play dumb about it.

Kumar rubs his eyes. "Dude, you really need to chill out. It was just a gesture, man. I thought you might be hungry, so I left it for you." He scratches his hair, and Harold can see the ink stains still on Kumar's fingers, because Kumar refuses to use anything besides the old fountain pen his dad brought with him from India while studying. Med school must be really getting to him.

"I have no fucking clue about what goes on in your head," Harold says before he shoves the rest of the burrito into Kumar's hands.

It's a few days later when Kumar hands Harold a stack of DVDs while Harold is in the kitchen fetching the granola bar that passes for breakfast these days. Harold's fully dressed and about to leave for work. Kumar is wearing a moth-eaten Metallica t-shirt with pajama bottoms and looks as though he just rolled out of bed. It's actually a little endearing to see, because usually, when Kumar first gets up, he doesn't have the mental acuity to make Harold's life a living hell.

Harold glances at the top DVD. The cover has a topless woman shoving her breasts towards the camera, and Harold winces as he turns away. "What the hell are these?" Harold asks through gritted teeth.

Kumar raises an eyebrow. "It's porn, 'Roldy. I figured you needed some help to unwind, especially since Maria left you."

Harold closes his eyes and counts to ten. "And this couldn't have waited until after I came home from work?"

"I was thinking of going to the movies with Rosenberg and Goldstein then," Kumar says with a shrug. "I figured I'd give it to you before I forgot." He glances at the ground, the way he sometimes does when he knows Harold is going to yell at him next, and all the anger leaves Harold all in one go. He has been wound extra tight since Maria said that she really wasn't ready for commitment just yet, and he's definitely been taking it out on Kumar.

"Okay, fine," Harold says. "Thanks, man." He puts the DVDs in his room before he leaves.

When he gets back to the apartment, Kumar isn't there, probably at the movies like he said. And after Harold goes through the DVDs by himself, he does have to admit that Kumar has some pretty decent taste in porn.

Harold gets called down the the receptionist's desk the next day. He has no idea what's going on, because he wasn't expecting any packages today.

Stacy, the really nice receptionist with the really nice smile, nudges the bouquet of flowers and box of chocolates in Harold's direction. "Looks like someone's got a secret admirer," she says, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Uh, I guess, thanks," Harold says. It's quality chocolate, even a little expensive, and the flowers do smell fresh and lovely, like spring.

"It's just weird, you know?" he says to Kumar while they're eating some semi-fresh Domino's pizza for dinner that night. "Who do I know who would do something like that?"

Kumar becomes really fascinated by the peppers on his pizza. "I dunno," he says, before taking a bite.

The next morning, Harold finds a bong mysteriously gift wrapped on their front doorstep. "Here," he says, throwing it at Kumar, who is conveniently sacked out on the couch face down with his nose in a medical textbook, "I think this is for you."

"Wha?" Kumar says as he gets hit in the ass. The bong lands harmlessly on the floor. He then picks it up. "Actually, I think that might be for you," he says, turning it over in his hands. "You haven't replaced your old one since like, high school or something."

Harold rolls his eyes. "Oh, great, now I have a stalker." He takes the bong from Kumar's hands. New and clean, made out of a tough plastic. It's true that he's wanted a new one for a while, but it's always been easier just to share with Kumar, because Kumar always has the most up-to-date equipment around.

Kumar says, "Hey, they don't actually have to be a stalker. Maybe they just know you really, really well." He looks almost thoughtful, an attractive look on his face, but Harold knows that just has to be a trick of the light.

"Whatever," he says.

It's Friday night, and Kumar has apparently started without Harold. He's sprawled in front of the TV, already high, and he's even using Harold's new bong.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Harold says, because while he knows Kumar's something of a selfish jackass, this is entirely out of character for him. He always waits for Harold to get off work.

Kumar blinks at Harold with the smug satisfaction of the pleasantly blissed out. "Hey, man. I had something to say to you. I mean, I could do this sober, but that would be way more awkward."

"What is it this time?" Harold asks, slumping down on the sofa next to Kumar. "Please don't tell me you peed in my sock drawer again." He braces himself for a revelation even more horrible than that one.

And then Kumar grabs his head with both hands and kisses him, messy and sloppy and more than a little wasted. There's a little too much tongue, but Kumar's mouth tastes like pot and Harold's really good chocolate, and Harold actually kind of likes it despite the strange, scratchy feeling of Kumar's stubble. Harold kisses back, sliding a hand onto the back of Kumar's neck. Kumar is warm and solid, and really familiar, and sometimes Harold has a hard time remembering what his life was like before he met Kumar.

He yanks himself away, his breath short. "Dude, what the fuck?" he says again, and then it all makes sense. "Holy crap, those were from you! Why the fuck didn't you just give me them yourself?"

"'Roldy, you had some pretty shitty reactions the first few times I tried," Kumar says. "You can't really blame me for not saying that I'm kind of gay for you." He actually looks a little annoyed. "And can we get back to the part where I'm getting laid tonight?"

Harold snorts. "Who said you were going to get laid?" But that's mostly token resistance to doing anything Kumar wants to do. It's a habit at this point.

"Dude, don't even lie about how you're totally into me," Kumar says, and he looks so earnest Harold kind of wants to kiss him again.

So he does, shoving Kumar back onto the sofa, so that they're both horizontal. Still fully clothed, and Harold has no idea how to actually have sex with a guy outside the generalities, but this feels good in a way totally different way than girls feel good.

Kumar licks his neck, right where that raccoon almost gave him rabies last year, and Harold shivers. He should probably be weirded out by the way Kumar's hard dick is pressed up against his hip and the way his own dick is pressed up against Kumar's thigh, but it's mostly kind of good feeling. Kumar's a lot better kisser now that they've gotten into it.

Kumar makes a hot little strangled noise when Harold bites down on his neck, and Harold wants to hear that again, so he bites down a little harder, and the sound Kumar makes is even louder.

It gets a little frantic after that. Harold's hands are tangled in Kumar's fly; his lips are right next to Kumar's left ear. Kumar has one of his hands down Harold's pants, the other one god knows where, and Harold kind of wants to laugh except Kumar is squeezing his dick, very lightly, like he's just trying it out, and the heat and friction is so good it makes Harold's hips jerk.

"Don't get too carried away here, 'Roldy," Kumar says, grinning.

"Fuck you," Harold says, and then he attacks Kumar's mouth as he presses the heel of his palm against the bulge in Kumar's jeans, the way Lily Cho did the first time they slept together.

"Shit," Kumar says, and he almost looks as happy as he did when Goldstein scored them some real high-quality weed.

Harold scrambles with the hem of Kumar's t-shirt, and then he needs to grab Kumar's hair, needs to press Kumar back against the couch again. And then Kumar licks the inside of Harold's mouth, squeezes Harold's balls, and that's it, Harold comes wet and messy in his pants and all over Kumar's hand.

"Dude, gross," Kumar says, but he still looks a little pleased with himself. Smug in that incredibly annoying way he gets when he doesn't have to do jack shit to be brilliant.

"Oh, shut up," Harold says, before nibbling on Kumar's chin. He presses his hand hard enough on Kumar's groin that Kumar groans, deep and wet and messy, his hips jerking up of their own accord before he shudders and comes himself, still in his pants.

They stay like that for a while, just breathing in and out, in and out, just staring at each other. This whole thing is so incredibly crazy, so incredibly weird, and Harold has no idea what's going to happen next. Kumar looks like he's about to fall asleep on him, his head listing to the side, his eyes drifting shut. And Kumar calls Harold gross.

"Hey..." Harold starts, though he has know idea what he's going to say.

He's interrupted by a loud rumble of Kumar's stomach. Kumar's eyes shoot open. "I've kinda got the munchies," he says, leaning forward to give Harold the sort of peck he used to give Vanessa before they broke up. "Hey, what do you think about White Castle?"

It's true that Harold hasn't eaten anything since lunch. "Sure," he says. "Just as long as we don't ever give Neil Patrick Harris a ride anywhere ever." He grins a little at Kumar and Kumar grins a little back, and for all of Kumar's macho posturing, he's totally as much of a dork as Harold is.

"I get to drive," Kumar says, reaching into Harold's pocket for his keys.

"Whatever," Harold says. "Just let me change first."

The next morning, Harold finds a half-eaten White Castle burger on his desk. Kumar is still passed out on the bed, face down, one arm hanging off the side.

Harold inspects the burger, just to make sure it doesn't have anything growing on it, and when he finds that there isn't, he heats it up in the microwave and eats it instead of his usual granola bar. It's not quite as good as it would be fresh off the grill, but it's still pretty tasty.

And then he sets Kumar's alarm two hours earlier -- only so he doesn't miss his morning anatomy class -- just to thank him.