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Broken Noses and Shared Beds

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"I can't fuckin' believe this," Dante's voice came out significantly nasally from clamping a hand over his heavily bleeding nose. He rested his head against the passenger side window of his own car as they left Stanhope behind, returning to Leonardo. The coolness of the window felt soothing against his temple. The dim, yellowy streetlights hardly did their job, not entirely unlike Randall.

"What, that you're letting me drive your car?" Randall briefly turned his head away from the road to peer at Dante through the darkness. All he could see was a mostly Dante-shaped shadow slumped against the door.

"Yeah, that and the fact that you broke my nose," he huffed and kept his eyes trained on the side mirror.

"Oh like it was on purpose! Jesus, Dante," Randall shook his head. "It's just a broken nose, it's not like it's the end of the world. Hell, it might not even be broken! It's probably just bleeding. You're such a baby sometimes, you know that?"

"You didn't even apologize!" Dante's voice was comically annoying with the added nasal pressure.

"Psh, as if the word 'sorry' is going to make your nose stop hurting. What are you going to ask for next? A kiss for your boo boo?"

"Fuck you," Dante grumbled. "Actually, why are you so sour? You didn't get hurt back there."

"Maybe not physically, but I have to admit I'm pretty emotionally sore. We left halfway through the Alice in Chains concert, and that definitely hurts me." Randall was miffed; he elected not to look in Dante's direction during their bitter exchange.

"You tried to convince me to stay longer!" There Dante went with his whine again.

"But nooo, we couldn't because you were getting blood on your clothes. What does that even matter? Blood washes out if you use cold water," Randall's scowl became audible in his words. Dante said nothing in reply. He let his eyes close, pillowing his head against the window with his arm. Randall considered turning the radio on for a short moment and decided against it.

The car remained quiet until they were on the edge of Leonardo, when Randall broke the silence. "Sorry, man."

"For what?"

"For breaking your nose, jackass."

"I thought apologies wouldn't stop the pain," Dante replied, but this time his voice lacked any trace of the bitterness it had when they first began the drive back home. Now he just sounded tired.

Randall pulled into Dante's driveway and shifted into park. Another moment, soundless save for the car's soft rumble, passed.

"I'll walk home, I don't really want to deal with bringing the car back to you in the morning," Randall sighed, cutting the engine. He started reaching for his door handle.

"Just sleep here," Dante muttered. Randall regarded him for a moment before climbing out of the car. Dante's slow bleeding had stopped, leaving a flaky copper red smear from his nostrils down. His shirt sleeve had some crusted blood on it, and the initial drops that landed on his shirt had dried.

"What, sleep with you in your bed full of crumbs?" Randall quipped, locking the car doors.

"I was thinking you could take the couch, but if you need someone to sleep with since you're not at your mom's house then I guess my door's open," Dante joked as best as he could. He was exhausted and wondered if maybe he wasn't totally joking. He shook that thought out of his head and yawned as he led Randall into the house. Randall hung back while Dante kept going in the direction of his bedroom. Dante stopped off at the bathroom to do a lazy job of brushing his teeth and cleaning the mess off of his face. He looked at the grey rings under his eyes and sighed before flicking the lights off in the bathroom and finishing the journey to his bedroom.

He tiredly changed out of his blood spotted clothes, trading his flannel and stained shirt for a ratty t shirt. He went without pants after a half assed attempt to find pajama bottoms. Dante crawled into his bed and under the blankets, where the weight of his exhaustion really set in. He was almost asleep when the bed dipped rapidly and creaked, and suddenly there was a solid weight next to him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dante groaned. Whether or not any part of him wanted this, he was going to act like it was a terrible burden.

"You said your door's open. No take backs," Randall was grinning, Dante was certain of it. "Besides, I'm not sleeping on your piece of shit couch."

"I'm sorry, what's wrong with my couch?" Dante flipped over to look at him and found that their faces were much closer than he had anticipated. Damn near nose to nose. He took a slow inhale and thanked whatever higher power existed for the darkness, because he could feel a warm blush creeping into his cheeks. Despite his discomfort, he didn't move away.

"It's literally falling apart, Dante. The legs keep coming off, it smells like fuckin' moth balls and old burritos, and the cushions are all threadbare. I don't think I would sleep there unless-" he stopped. Unless what?  Dante needed to know why he cut himself off and he needed to know why he cared to wonder. He felt... hopeful? This made him hopeful because...? He drew a blank. He could feel Randall's breath on his face, and it wasn't smelly or minty, it was just very Randall. He picked his speech back up. "You would have to pay me actual money to sleep on that. It's bad enough just sitting on it to watch Star Wars with you."

"You're so right, Randall, why don't I just go out tomorrow and buy a new fucking couch since I make so much money at the goddamn Quick Stop?"

"Speaking of the Quick Stop, I'm half surprised I didn't hop in bed with you and hear you say 'You're not even supposed to be here tonight!'" Randall inched his body closer, but his faced stayed where it was. Dante pretended not to notice, wondered if he was supposed to notice.

"Oh, shut the hell up!" Dante half bitched, half laughed.

"Make me," Randall teased; Dante tensed. Dante burned to move his face that last small distance. Shitshitshit. Dante hesitated. Maybe he was reading the situation wrong, maybe Randall wasn't the slightest bit interested in Dante or guys at all. Overthinking, overthinking. Damn it all to hell.

"Christ, do I have to do everything myself?" Randall snapped, exasperated. He closed that last bit of distance, pressing his lips to Dante's. To Randall's immense relief, Dante kissed back. He could feel the heat of Dante's cheeks radiating back at his own face and he smiled into the kiss. Dante's head was a fast spinning whir of confusion and euphoria with a side of panic. He was aware of his best friend's mouth against his and the burning spots his face had become, and he was glad that his lips had soldiered on and responded. Randall broke away. Dante's side of panic became a full fledged feeling at the forefront of his mind.

Randall laughed, tinged with nerves. His face was just as on fire as Dante's now. When Dante didn't demand to know what the fuck was going on or why the fuck that just happened, Randall declared "fuck it" and went back for more. Dante's panic decelerated and his nervousness only stemmed from the excitement of having hands against his ribs, legs increasingly tangled in his, and the heat of Randall's kissing.

His mouth fell open in surprise and want as one of Randall's hands slid from his torso to his boxers, allowing Randall to taste inside Dante's mouth. Dante's breath caught and his chest fluttered. He couldn't remember if he had ever felt this thrilled with Veronica or even Caitlin, and hardly anything had even happened yet. He giggled into Randall's mouth, laughing at himself for feeling and seeming so inexperienced. Not that he had ever done any of this with men before.

"Do you always act like 14 year old boy when you're getting ready to bang someone? How did Caitlin even put up with you?" Randall joked as he moved closer to being on top of Dante.

"I've only ever been with women! I wasn't even positive I wanted to do this until now," Dante defended himself, but the smile never left his face. He had thought about it for a long time, but never with anything real behind it. He wasn't sure it was a can of worms he wanted to open.

Randall sat just below Dante's hips and started feeling up underneath Dante's shirt.

"Your first time with a dude and you didn't even bother to dress up. How typical of Dante Hicks," Randall stopped feeling him up to poke his finger through a tear in the shirt. Before Dante could answer, Randall kissed him again and dragged his lips along Dante's jaw, trailing down to suck on the side of his neck, leaving a mark. He pressed a kiss on the small exposed bit of skin between Dante's collarbones before sneaking his fingers under the hem of Dante's shirt, rucking it up to spread his hands out and feel all over.

Randall scooted himself downwards, hands traveling lower, fingertips just beginning to brush the elastic band of Dante's boxers. Dante shivered and felt a brand new blush coming on. He strained against the fabric of his shorts.

"Wait," Randall quit what he was doing and sat upright. Dante huffed.

"What?" Dante tried unsuccessfully to keep the whine out of his voice.

"Please tell me you have condoms."

Dante nodded and turned the top half of his body towards his nightstand and dug around blindly in the drawer until he triumphantly pulled a box out. He tossed one foil packet to Randall and then left the box on the pillow Randall had been using minutes before.

"Perfect," Randall continued where he left off, fingers teasing at the edges of Dante's shorts, leaving hot kisses below his bellybutton. He flattened his palms against Dante's hips, forcing him not to let them spasm upwards. His squirming became more impatient until at last Randall pulled his shorts down and put the rubber on his dick. The contact was minimal, but it made Dante take a shaky breath. Randall propped himself up on his elbows and lowered his head, his bottom lip barely an inch above the crown of Dante's dick. Dante mumbled something that sounded like "please."

Randall took the base in his loose fist and swirled his tongue around the head, just enough to make Dante's pulse pick up. He dropped his mouth lower, his lip meeting the side of his fist before he hollowed his cheeks. Dante let out a quiet "oh" and his head rolled back. His hips kicked upwards, tentative and small jerks, hesitant as ever.

"Juth le' go" Randall murmured without removing himself from Dante's cock. Dante lost himself in the slip slide of his dick in and out of Randall's heated mouth and the lazy, slow up and down of his fist. His middle tightened and warmed, an orgasm steadily building. He whimpered and let his hips roll wildly, haphazardly apologizing when he made Randall gag, hands searching for something to grab. Randall slipped a finger from his unoccupied hand into his own mouth while Dante continued to fuck into his mouth with less and less restraint and grace. He inwardly grinned and brushed his fingertip against Dante's asshole, teasing, prodding, but never pushing inside. Dante moaned and lost it, back arching and more whimpers escaping his throat. "Fuck," he growled, hands finding Randall's hair and twisting into it.

Breathless and blissed out, he let go of Randall's hair and pulled his shorts back up.

Randall tossed the used condom on the floor and settled down with his head against Dante's chest.

"Did you just leave it on the floor?" Dante wrapped an arm around Randall.

"Yeah. What does it matter? Your room's a fuckin' wreck anyway."

"Thanks, mom. I'll be sure to clean it soon," Dante snarked. "Are you still completely dressed?"

Randall shifted away from him and tore his shirt and jeans off in no time. "No," he replied, draping himself over Dante again. His dick was gradually softening.

"Wait, should I," Dante let his question fade.

"What? Return the favor? S'alright, I'm tired anyway. We'll write up an IOU in the morning," Randall snuggled his head into the space between Dante's neck and chest.

"Works for me," Dante answered sleepily. He could hardly keep his eyes open, much less do anything to help Randall get his rocks off. With his arms wrapped around Randall, he dozed off.