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Joe knew something was up, that he'd done something really wrong, but he didn't have any idea what.
Everybody was cold-shouldering him all of a sudden -- just because he'd had a date last Friday and hadn't gone to Jun's latest get-together at the Snack.
Great, so Jun was mad at him. She often was, over one thing or another. And since when was it any hardship to do without Ryu and Jinpei yammering on quoting comedy sketches? Nah, if anything, Joe would have liked for them to be offended more often.
As long as Ken was still talking to him, Joe didn't care what the others thought.
And Ken was still talking to him, Joe found when he went to Ken's house. He didn't act mad, either. But there was a cautious, mopey vibe about him that Joe didn't much like either, and so he realized that whatever it was he'd done, Ken was mad about it too -- but in that I'm-disappointed-in-you way that particularly drove a guy nuts.
Baffled, annoyed, Joe drove off and went to a bar. His spirits were lifting as he smooth-talked the cute dumb blonde, but when he got her outside, Jun stepped out from behind his car.
"I wanna talk to you, Joe."
"Hey, now, honey," said Joe's blonde, startled, gripping Joe's arm hard.
"Jun," said Joe warningly.
"You know this girl?" demanded the blonde.
Jun crossed her arms and leaned against the car. (Where had he seen that before?) "Now, Joe."
She sounded tough; he had to give her that. She sounded it because she was tough.
In contrast, the bar blonde next to him sounded shrill and scared. "Hey, I don't want no trouble... you didn't tell me you had a stalker, Joey... count me out!"
After reluctantly parting with his catch, releasing her to swim back into the river of the bar, Joe turned and barked at Jun. "What the hell! What've you got against -- "
She cut him off. "Get in the car, Joe. You're gonna drive, and I'm gonna talk."
Joe complained even as they got in and he started the engine. "How come in my car? How come we can't do this at the J?" Why did you have to stop me getting laid?
"Because I don't want to have to look at your face," she snarled.
This took him aback. Jun, sisterly upbeat Jun, not just angry with him but livid.
"Are you gonna tell me what I did?" he muttered, gripping the steering wheel in self-defense.
"I'm gonna sit here," Jun said grimly, "till you figure it out."
"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Guessing games! That was all he needed!
Jun sighed loudly through her nose.
"Look," said Joe, "I know you were having one of your parties, I'm sorry I couldn't make it, all right -- "
"Do you know what day it was?" she said, coldly furious.
"Yeah. It was Friday." A night for going out on dates, not for spending at the Snack J with the team, when he spent so much goddamn time with them anyway.
"Yes..." she said slowly. "Go on. Friday the..."
"Fourth," he said sullenly, hating her tone.
"Of..." she prompted further.
"April!" What else would she ask him, the year in Roman numerals? "What the hell are you so bent up about? It's not like it was your birthday, I know that isn't till M --"
Joe's voice skidded to a halt.
Fourth... of April. Had an uncomfortably familiar ring all of a sudden, didn't it.
Jun sighed and leaned back in her seat, folding her hands in her lap. All she had to do was wait.
"Oh -- aw, shit. I forgot Ken's birthday..."
"Yes. His twentieth birthday," Jun drove the nails home. "You know. The big 2-0. His coming of age day. So there was a party. With beer. And cake. And everyone in his life who cares about him was supposed to be there. You wanna know why I'm mad at you? Why we're all so mad at you we could spit you? You hurt his feelings, you big dumb jerk! He was really disappointed. It ruined the whole party for everybody. But especially for him."
Joe felt himself dwindling in his seat, on his way down to six inches tall.
He cleared his throat and tried valiantly to stop shrinking. "Listen, don't girl me with that girl talk. Me and Ken are guys. We don't have feelings."
He was quoting from a cartoon, trying to make her laugh, but she wasn't going for it.
"You are so full of shit." She paused. "Or maybe you don't have feelings. I'm starting to think it wouldn't surprise me in the least. But it was really shitty of you not to be there for him, Joe Asakura, and if you don't make it up to him somehow... I will kill you."
She meant it, she fucking well meant it.
"I'll -- talk to him," he said in a strangled tone.
That was how he came to be at Ken's house at one in the morning, with a six pack under one arm, and trepidation in his stomach.
This is stupid. It's too late now. Now I'm only waking him up and being an even bigger prick than I already am.
But Ken must already have heard the car approaching the house. Going away again would mean having woken him up for no reason, and then there was always the Wrath of Jun.
It turned out that Ken was still awake -- though just barely. Great minds had thought alike, it seemed -- there were five empty cans sprawled over the kitchen table. In the midst of these slumped Ken, one elbow on the table and one hand wrapped around the sixth beer.
Ken was resting his chin in his other hand, gazing at Joe without any trace of surprise. He looked a little glazed maybe, but wide awake.
"Hey," said Joe.
"Hey," said Ken.
"Um, your birthday," said Joe, diving straight in: "I forgot it. Sorry."
Ken shrugged. "It's no big deal." He lifted his beer to his mouth, and took a swallow. Joe watched his throat move, then pulled his gaze back to Ken's face.
"Well, good. That's what I told Jun."
Ken put the empty can down with a loud aluminum snap, and lifted his eyebrows. "So Jun told you to come here." Not angry. And not a question. He looked now at the bag under Joe's arm.
"Well uh. Yeah. I mean, I really forgot, Ken, I didn't just blow it off. She came to yell at me about it, and said I better make it up to you." He put the bag down on the table amongst the empty cans. "I feel bad. So let me make it up to you."
Ken looked from Joe to the bag, then back to Joe. "You want to make it up to me?"
"That's what I said."
Ken leaned both elbows on the table. "OK. Drink that six pack. Go on. Right now."
"What -- all of it?"
"Well, I drank all of mine while I was sitting here waiting for you; so hurry up, so you can catch up with me."
Well. That sort of made sense. Except for the part about Ken waiting for him. Shrugging, Joe opened the bag, pulled out the first beer, and opened it. He was pretty thirsty; chugging it down was no particular hardship. The second one, not too bad, but the third was slower going. It wasn't like he couldn't drink this much, but so fast...
"C'mon Joe... you said you 'felt bad'... have some more beer, that'll make you feel better. We've got about..." glancing to the kitchen wall clock, "thirty-seven minutes to get up onto the roof."
"The roof...?"
"Yes. Drink."
In the end, after a much-needed leak, Ken let Joe carry his last beer up to the roof of the house. Joe was surprised to have more of a buzz on than he'd really expected; getting up here was a little more effort than it really ought to be for a ninja. But once up, the gentle slope of the roof turned out to be surprisingly comfortable under Joe's back, a nice incline so that he didn't have to sit all the way up to drink.
"So what's up here? Are we UFO watching?" Joe felt lazy now, taking his time on the sixth beer. The sky was clean and dark, blazing with stars; the moon had just set.
"Nah. Shouldn't be any aliens," said Ken, in the dark beside him. He didn't have a beer, so he had his arms up pillowing his head. His voice was lazy too, relaxed.
"What then?"
"Just wait."
"But what for -- hey!"
The word was drawn out in breathless amazement.
An impossibly bright line etched itself across the sky. A spark from the heart of heaven, clawing a quick streak of white against the blackness as it fell.
Joe's lips were forming the 'wuh' of 'wow' when another white arrow flashed and was gone. Then another.
They radiated out from one general area, near the Northern Cross. Some were little and quick, making thin straight lines that swiftly disappeared from view. Some were big and took several seconds, leaving a cloudy stamp of their passing in the sky that lingered for a while, like fireworks, only one strand at a time.
Joe had seen a lot of things already in his life (and he was still only nineteen, until November), but this was somehow... special. The kind of thing that would have amazed people thousands of years ago, and would still be amazing in another thousand... if the Earth was still here by then, of course.
Fireworks were more dazzling, but more predictable. They were cool to watch, of course, and the smell of cordite had always held a sort of thrill for Joe... not to mention the great big explosions. But there was always the sense that it would be over soon, they'd fire off a whole great big bunch while the music swelled and that would be that. Here, you had to watch and wait -- these were random, unpredictable lines of fire in the sky, and if you were lucky you were focused on just the right spot for a big one...
Wowwwwww.
"Damn!" he breathed. "That son of a bitch looked as big as a comet..."
Ken laughed softly. "It's just debris from a comet. Exhaust fumes."
"I know that. But it looks like a little bitty comet."
"Yeah," Ken said, in a dreamy voice.
They lay back in silence for a while, watching the show.
Joe reached the last swallow or so of his beer and propped up on an elbow to get the requisite acute angle needed to finish it off. There, all six accounted for. He glanced over at Ken.
Ken, lying back smiling, gazing up at heaven, his eyes filled with stars.
"Oh," said Joe, before he could stop himself.
Ken looked over to him. "Hmm?"
Joe lay back down. "Nothing." He pressed his back into the roof, wished now he had a seventh beer. Even though the world was already spinning, the shooting stars arching in curves like a time lapse photo.
What was that... nothing, it was nothing... just a weird moment, beer, starlight... won't happen again...
He took a deep breath through his nose, resettled his shoulders more comfortably. No problem.
Ken's arms, stretched back as his laced hands cushioned his head; dark hair, spreading wild around his dreamy face as he smiled...
Another dazzling meteor etched itself across the great above. As it tumbled, coruscating, Joe felt himself turn his head and look instead to watch it, reflected, in Ken's left eye... sparkling...
"Joe," Ken whispered. "What..."
"Shut up..." Closer and closer, Joe leaned in to watch. He couldn't see the reflection of the star anymore, but it was there, lingering in Ken's eyes, even when he closed them; it was there in his mouth when Joe kissed him.
Oh God. What am I doing...
Kissing...
Shut up...
Yes, dammit, kissing -- that's what he was doing, just suddenly doing, one hand gripping Ken's shoulder as he leaned over, drinking in the unexpected sweetness of his friend's mouth, and then -- wicked heat, firm pressure, and after a minute, delicately flirtatious tongue -- God help them both.
Ken wasn't pushing him away, or punching him. No "Stop", no "Wait a minute." Not even a "What the hell, you pervert." No, Ken was -- kissing -- back --
Joe had thoughts of pulling back, rolling away, stopping himself. But Ken's hand was gripping the back of Joe's neck... hard... as he licked the corners of Joe's mouth... He smelled so good... Joe shuddered.
oh God, I want --
Shut up!!
He gasped as he found himself rolling onto his back, and then the hard heat of Ken's body pinning him down, as though they were wrestling. They were wrestling -- grappling, at least, for control, for -- more.
Joe got Ken onto his back again, but even as he did Ken was dragging Joe's shirt up, fingers sliding over his chest to snag on one nipple. Sensitive. Joe's back arched, twisting, even as his own hands slid seeking under Ken's shirt.
He's touching me. I want him to.
Shut...
Want him to.
...Up.
The body under his hands, strong and lithe and so familiar, could never be mistaken for any Joe had ever touched. Lean, scarred, swift and perfect -- more dangerous and forbidden than any Galactor girl... and more sexy than Joe ever realized... Ken -- taut as a bow, wild and sweet under the sky...
Oh yes, under the sky, up on the roof and out in the open, right up under the eyes of God, two guys making out...
Joe tried to shock himself to reality with this thought, his last and best effort. It didn't work. If there was a God, He had created meteors and beer... yes, and an indecently sexy Gatchaman... so Joe could hardly be held responsible... for being so utterly, completely turned on...
Shut up, shut up...
Joe's empty beer can was dislodged when one of them bumped it, and it rolled down the roof and off the edge to bounce, clattering, on the back yard. The kiss finally broke, startled apart. Both of them were gasping.
Ken's fingertips dragged down Joe's chest and belly, then snagged on the waistband of his jeans. Joe sucked in his breath sharply, but said nothing... and after a tiny pause, Ken tugged Joe's belt open. Then the jeans button...
Ahh -- he bit back the actual sound, but the change of pressure as the zipper slid down was both relief and further stimulation.
He couldn't just lie there panting, passive -- he had to reach out, touch and find out for himself if Ken was -- if he could be -- as excited, as hard as Joe... and he was... and the swift, startled sound Ken made in his throat when Joe rubbed his hand over that hot denim bulge was worth the wrath of God any day.
Ken's firm callused hand was wrapping around Joe's cock, warm and tight. Oh God. Girls were always hesitant with it, like they thought it was going to break off, but Ken knew how to touch it, of course he did, he had one too, and -- jeans fumbled open, belt torn loose, here it was... Christ almighty, he's big, he couldn't be bigger than me...?
Only one way to find out, really... they didn't exactly have a ruler up here...
Once more he pushed Ken onto his back, and kissed him. The moment their mouths met, Ken began to moan, even before Joe settled on top of him and wrapped his hand around both of them together -- his cock throbbing against Ken's, one or both of them leaking precome that saturated Joe's fingers so that they slid.
Hips rocked. Oh God.
Rubbing together. Pulsing. Hot tight wet grip of his hand and one of Ken's now too, adding to the friction, the connection. Ken's other hand bruising Joe's shoulder with a rhythmic grip.
Kiss broke. Ken's breath, harsh in his ear.
"Joe."
Joe had no time to even think about holding back. At the sound of that voice, urgent and raw with loss of control, speaking his name -- Joe squeezed his eyes shut and cried out, low and inarticulate.
His body pulsed white hot, a streaking meteor launching itself into darkness to sizzle, shining...
The frantic throbbing under his hands doubled, and Ken writhed, growling with satisfaction. Another bright explosion in the night.
Joe sagged down on top of him, gasping, head spinning. They were a hot, sticky tangle, panting on the roof under a shower of stars.
After some minutes had passed, Joe was roused by Ken's voice.
"OK, Joe. I forgive you."
What? "Forgive me? What the hell for?" Even as he said it Joe remembered what they were talking about. Ken's birthday.
"You can tell Jun you made it up to me. But I wouldn't tell her how, if I were you."
Joe exhaled shakily, trying not to laugh.
"For God's sake. Will you just... Shut... up."
"Make me."
"I will."
He did.