Comfortable Silence |Virgato|

Chapter 22

Chris's shoulder is brushing against Joel, and his bare forearm, and the side of his thigh, and Joel is thinking - he's really thinking - about how nice it would be to explore that further. Really press himself against Chris, letting their bodies meld together in any possible-

"Where the fuck are you going?"

"Shit," Joel mumbles under his breath, controller clacking loudly as he frantically backs his way out of a patch of sand and back towards the racetrack. "Got the screens mixed up," he lies. "Thought I was you."

"How do you get Bowser and Peach mixed up?"

"They're tiny up there!" Joel exclaims shrilly, tapping his foot impatiently as his car slowly fights its way out of the sand.

He feels more than he sees Chris turn to stare at him disbelievingly for a quick second before gluing his eyes back to the screen. "Not so tiny you can't tell that one is a giant spiky turtle monster, and the other is a tiny girl with a crown!"

"I was looking at the road, Chris. Like any good driver would! Anticipating banana peels!" Joel's tragically far behind the rest of the pack now, dead last by a long shot, and he grits his teeth as Waluigi blows past him on screen with an evil cackle, lapping him. How embarrassing.

Chris lets out an evil cackle of his own. "I thought you said you were good at MarioKart."

"I am," Joel insists, because he is. Very good, actually, if only he weren't distracted by Chris's general proximity. This isn't new. Chris is usually close. Sometimes it just really hits Joel that he can actually have Chris if he wants him, and then his brain goes fuzzy, and he can't focus on what he's doing as long as the possibility of fucking Chris is dangling in front of him. Or even just touching him. Being close. A nice, unhurried Sunday afternoon make-out would really be a treat. "I'm incredible at this game," he adds, defeated but stubbornly refusing to back down on the topic of his MarioKart skills.

Finally back on the track, Joel tosses a trail of banana peels behind him in desperation. He will not get lapped again. "Could've fooled me," Chris taunts, whooping as Daisy gets hit with a leader shell in front of him and he zooms past into the lead. "Guess this means I'm about to beat the MarioKart master, then."

Oh, he sounds so smug. Joel can hear the self-satisfied grin in his voice, can imagine the way his eyes are sparkling with mischief, knowing how easy it is to get Joel riled up over games he's not winning.

Joel doesn't have to take this disrespect. He's already last, he may as well take Chris down with him. Abandoning Peach at the side of the road, he sets down his controller and presses closer to Chris, sliding an arm across Chris's waist. "What are you-" Chris's protest is cut short when Joel's lips land on his jaw, and Joel watches his hands hesitate on the controller.

"This is sabotage!" Chris complains, recovering quickly, fingers tapping his way into a power slide around a tight corner of the track while Joel begins to suck a mark into the skin just behind his jaw. "Jesus," he mumbles, reflexively dropping his head to the side. "You're such a sore loser." His voice is much lower now, the specific mix of rough and soft that lets Joel know he's got Chris hooked.

"Wanna make out?" he asks coyly, nipping at Chris's earlobe the way Chris is always trying to do to him, hand working its way over Chris's stomach and chest, disrupting his grip on his controller.

"After this race," Chris insists, squirming under Joel's touch, but unable to do anything about it without sending Bowser flying off the racetrack. "I'll make out with you so hard after I win this fucking race." Despite his clear attempt to sound calm and collected, it comes out a little strangled, and Joel smirks.