Impractical Jokers: [Joker]x[Joker] Collection

Teach Me Respect (Joe/Sal)

        "I can't believe you joked about our first kiss!" Sal exclaims once they're on the tour bus. The other Jokers have hung behind on stage and they're getting a well-deserved breather. A break from all of the on-stage tension is proving good for them until one of them insists on breaking the quiet.

Joe turns, hands on his hips as he surveys the other. Honestly, he thought Sal would've forgotten about it; the clumsy slip of their lips that has gradually become flame as they'd sloppily mounted one another on the couch and kissed until they couldn't feel their lips - and then some more, just to force feeling back into them. The rocking of hormonal bodies; the build of sweat between them as they'd gravitated to the flesh on display; the stumble of hands as they'd smoothed down one another's forms; the breathless moans as they'd both come to terms with how badly they'd wanted this for so long. It hadn't remained a mere first kiss for very long. But since reuniting? They'd never done such a thing again - and to know that Sal even recalls it has Joe feeling fuzzy with warmth.

"C–C'mon, Sal–"

"How many of the people out there do you think thought we were joking?!" the man exclaims, watching as his best friend does up the final button of his pyjama shirt. He doesn't know when the others will be back but he finds himself not caring; to be able to voice his displeasure outwardly without fear of Murray earwigging or Q laughing has him emboldened.

Joe scowls, leaning back against the bunks. "Why do ya care so much? It happened anyhow, didn't it?!"

"That's not the point and you know it!" barks Sal, arms sticking out and slamming onto either side of Gatto's body, effectively trapping him against the beds. Joe's speech fumbles into nothingness, eyes widening slightly as Vulcano's anger displays itself. He can't help it: the way his eyes dip to his mouth as he continues on ranting, the urge to shut him up coursing through his veins like liquid fire. "Have a little respect, what the hell was I supposed to say out there? What, you found it funny that all I could do was laugh?! You–"

"Look, Jost asked, I was just answerin' the question. Ya wanna yell about 'respect', go take it up with him and the fact that he was WILLIN' to ask such a personal thing– even though it's no big deal!"

"No big–" Sal stops running his mouth, rears back the slightest bit, judgemental squint in place as he surveys Joe's face. The dip of his brow, the displeased clench of his jaw, the storminess of his eyes as he glares daggers into his lifelong friend. "Fuck you, Joe."

The man struggles at that, raises his arms and lowers Sal's, backing him up against the adjacent bunks. He's unafraid of course, knows Joe would never hit him, knows the most he'll do is slam him back and then storm off to simmer down. Maybe, if he's lucky he'll even weed an apology out of him later.

"Fuck ME? YOU'RE the one who's bein' unreasonable! Anybody's think ya were still hung up on th–"

"You don't get to talk about that! Y–You don't get to–"

"I get to do whatever, it was MY first kiss too!"

By now, they're both panting, cheeks flushed with anger. Sal's trembling lightly, frozen in place by Gatto's icy stare; and it isn't that the latter is unaffected, he's shaken by the other man's outburst, but he hides it considerably better. A breath is taken, a low rumble in Joe's throat before he speaks again, voice low.

"Bang out'a order, buddy."

"Say that again," Vulcano warns, voice poisonous. When Joe leans in, word by word, he knows he's lost control.