just friends ; jalex

3

alex doen't knock when he enters jack's house; that was dropped a good six years ago. he even has a copy of the house key, but since the front door's unlocked basically 90% of the time, he keeps it lying somewhere in his room. (by that, he means he lost it. a long, long time ago.)

jack's mother smiles at him when he walks in. "jack's in his room," she says, "it's good to see you."

"you too!" alex responds, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he kicks his shoes off. "how's the day?"

"it's good," she starts as alex heads to the kitchen for a soda. "very quiet these days, you know, except for when you boys are up to it again." she shakes her head. "i don't even know if i miss the quiet, really. it's good you come over."

alex grins and pops the tab on his soda. "don't know how you guys tolerate me," he laughs, "but i won't question it. what's for dinner?"

"i'll order pizza around seven," she promises, and alex smiles broadly. "now shoo, i need to finish up sewing."

he complies quickly, zooming up the stairs. jack's room is first on the right, complete with a sign from 8-year-old jack hanging on it that says, in messy handwriting: jack's room / keep OUT!

jack barely looks up when alex karate kicks the door open and jumps in, slamming it shut behind him. "what's up," he yells, taking a sip of his coke and setting it down on the dresser. "jack, come on, we have shit to do."

"like what," jack yawns, casting aside his laptop and sprawling out on his bed. "name one thing."

"explore!" alex says this as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "it's so warm today, come on, i'm itching to fucking go somewhere."

"cool it, cowboy," jack sits up and brushes his hair away. "we're not going anywhere. my bike's broken."

in an instant, alex's face falls and he sinks down onto the bed, deeply troubled. "well... okay. i guess we'll just play xbox like always."

jack extends his hand and wiggles his fingers, an expectant look on his face, to which alex sighs and hauls his backpack on the bed. the clinking of bottles brings a smile to both of their mouths. 

"what's it today?" jack asks. "i'm guessing... hm, a lot of shitty beer and a handle of whiskey."

before he clears his backpack, alex locks the door. "i always bring the same thing, shut up," he frowns, and empties the bag out. "fucking love whiskey, dude."

"i would've guessed by now," says jack, getting a shove for that, "i mean, dude."

"good point," alex groans, "but it's cheap and i like it, so shut up." he arranges the bottle and cans on jack's bedside table. "after pizza."

jack frowns. "that's in three hours."

"sucks," alex informs him, concentrating on loading up call of duty. (he wants nothing more than to push jack down and fucking kiss him— no, come on, shut up.) 

pouting, jack wraps his arms around his knees and sighs deeply. "looks like i'll just have to kick your ass in call of duty, then." he reaches over alex, practically in his lap, stretching for the controller.

(alex freezes and holds his breath, his heart missing a beat and starting to pound. ah... it's your best friend, alex, why can't you act normal, jesus...)

"you can try," he responds when jack has sat up, grinning. "try being the key word here."

jack shoves him. "shut up, dude. you suck ass at cod."

alex grins back at his best friend. "as if you're any better."