I Know You Are But What Am I

Ice pressed his nose to the glass. “Do you think he’d like that one? It’s brown. He likes brown.”

“I don’t know.” Ceasar was leaning against the building, arms crossed. “Get him something fuzzy,” he suggested, “with maple leaves. Get him a fuzzy brown maple leaf.”

“Where am I gonna find something like that?” Ice asked, sticking his hands in his pockets and trudging to the next shop. “That was the wrong color, I think. It was kind of taupe, and he’s more in to like a sepia.”

Ceasar snorted. “Gay.”

Ice turned around and frowned. “How do you mean?”

“You know the difference between taupe and sepia,” Ceasar explained. “That’s totally gay.”

Ice elbowed Ceasar teasingly in the ribs as they continued on down the street. “You’re the gay one,” he said, “I caught you drooling over that antique copy of Tiger Beat one time.”

“Oh whatever that was a project for history class.” Ceasar followed Ice into some overpriced knick-knack shop. “What class were you writing all those sissy love poems for, huh? The ones hidden under your bed, that use phrases like ‘endlessly deep amethyst orbs.'”

“Those were about bitches!” Ice exclaimed. Ceasar raised an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe a couple of them were about you,” he amended, “but they were totally cancelled out by the ones about girls. And you shouldn’t snoop around a guy’s room when he’s taking a shower. And anyway, you’re still gayer, because you molest little boys in the hallway. Never girls, huh?”

Ceasar actually flushed at that one and hit Ice over the head with an oversized paper fan. “That’s because no girls will get within ten feet of me! And it’s the virus’ fault anyway! I didn’t molest anyone before I caught it!”

“Ah well,” Ice picked out a stuffed bear and made a face at it before putting it back on the shelf, “Maybe you and your aunt just need to have a talk about puberty.”

“Puberty doesn’t cause blackouts.”

Ice laughed. “Does if you go to the right parties.”

Ceasar rolled his eyes and dragged Ice out of the store before he could make faces at any more plush. “Anyway, you’re the gay one, because you shoved your tongue down my throat first.”

“Well,” Ice reasoned, “You’re gayer for liking it so much.”

“Oh fuck you, you liked it as much as I did.”

“Your knees buckled,” Ice recalled, exaggeratedly wistful, “and you grabbed on to my shirt so hard you tore out some of the stitching…”

“Shut up I don’t do that. So damn full of yourself.” Ceasar grabbed Ice by the collar and yanked him in for a kiss, much to the surprise of the little old lady sitting at the bus stop. “See?” he said as Ice stood blinking at him, “You’re the one all quiet and wobbly.”

Ice brought his hand to his lips and rubbed them softly, then grinned wide. “You’re the gayest one,” he declared, “because you wear lip gloss.”

“Oh shit.” Ceasar’s hand clamped over his mouth and his face went bright red. “I was all out of lip balm and they were dry and this was all my aunt could lend me,” he mumbled through his fingers.

Ice put an arm around Ceasar’s shoulders. “We’re both pretty gay, though,” he allowed, “because of gay sex and everything. You’re just a little gayer.”

“Shut up,” Ceasar said, “Let’s just buy Teddy a bottle of maple syrup and call it a day.”

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