Rating: PG
Author: jen
Summary: Following on from 'Like The Movies' and 'Replay', Larry and Kenny make plans for the summer vacation.
*****
Summer vacation started five days ago , and already it’s getting hard to remember what school felt like. Hasn’t he always stayed in bed until ten in the morning? And hasn’t he always stayed up until past midnight?
They’re past the age where their parents force them outside on summer days for fresh air, old enough for summer jobs. Kenny’s working three afternoons a week stacking shelves, while Larry’s serving burgers and shakes Tuesday through Friday. Whatever free time they have, they spend together, talking about how great the summer’s going to be.
Kenny’s surprised to find he doesn’t think about Dylan much anymore. Dylan, the sort-of boyfriend who waited until the night before his parents took him to Miami to say that he thought they’d be better off as friends. Neither does he regret not doing any of the stuff Dylan hinted at when they were sort of going out, although he suspects that’s the real reason they’re not even sort-of together anymore. He knows it was supposed to feel right with another guy, and kissing Dylan was definitely nicer than being with any of the girls Larry tried to hook him up with. He was nice, but that was all. And just nice wasn’t enough, for either of them.
Sometimes he’ll wonder what Dylan’s doing right now, but finds himself more jealous of the fact that Dylan’s parents have taken him to Miami than anything else.
When Larry asks if he misses Dylan, Kenny’s surprised to hear himself say, “Sort of.”
There are things he misses, like spending time with someone who knows what it’s like, and being able to talk about whether or not Justin Timberlake is hot. He tries to explain this to Larry, but doesn’t think Larry quite gets it.
They’re watching TV in Larry’s living room, switching between music channels, and maybe Larry’s just distracted by all the girls in Lycra or something, because the conversation slows again after that. Three more videos play out before Larry speaks again.
“So I guess you’re gonna start looking for a new boyfriend, huh?” He keeps his eyes glued to the screen as if he’s more interested in Ashlee Simpson than Kenny’s answer.
Kenny considers it for a moment before telling him, “I don’t think so.”
Larry turns away from the screen and shows his surprise for a moment, before he looks away and turns over to The Box.
They watch the Black Eyed Peas while Kenny figures out an explanation.
“It’s not like I really need a boyfriend.” He tries to sound flip, but somehow his voice comes out wobbly.
“Oh”. Larry squirms a little in his seat. “But I guess it’d be easier if you had more gay friends, you know. So then you can talk about…boys and stuff.“
When he dares to look, Larry’s fidgeting with the remote, opening and closing the battery case. Kenny feels something inside him tighten uncomfortably.
“I thought I could talk about that stuff with you. Do you want me to not talk about…that stuff?”
“No, you can!” Larry looks right at him, clutching the remote with both hands. “I’m not saying it right. I just mean, don’t you wanna get to know more gay guys?”
“Are you planning on hanging out with more straight guys now?”
He doesn’t intend it to sound mean, but suddenly Larry looks like he’s trying to crawl inside himself. Carefully, Kenny reaches out and takes it out of his hands; turns the volume down until Beyonce is just background noise.
“I don’t want to hang out with other guys.” It should feel awkward, but Larry smiles and suddenly it’s easy.
“I wouldn’t stop you if you wanted to,” Larry tells him. “If you wanna hang out with other guys - gay guys - you can.”
He smiles, then tells Larry, “Actually, other than Dylan, I don’t really know any other gay guys.”
“Oh.” He tells himself that Larry doesn’t sound relieved, that he’s just imagining it. “Well, maybe you could try one of those gay clubs.”
Larry’s looking kind of twitchy, but he’s trying to smile.
“I don’t think I wanna do that.” But then Larry looks confused, and he has to cover. “I couldn’t really walk into one of those places by myself.”
He watches Larry bite his lip, hesitating a couple of seconds before he says, “I’ll go with you.” Then another three seconds before, “they let straight guys into those places, right?”
Which is how they end up making plans to get inside Club Hedonism, the closest gay bar they know. He’s heard it’s kind of a dive, but that probably means they’re more likely to look the other way when faced with a couple of underage kids with fake I.D.s. It still seems kind of surreal: Kenny knows it’s a bad idea, but can’t seem to say that in the face of Larry’s enthusiasm. Besides, doing something illicit with Larry has this weird feeling of intimacy tagged on to it that makes his insides sort of bubbly.
It takes a couple of weeks and a lot of money to find someone who can score them fake I.D.s. Plenty of time to panic about everything that could go wrong (and dream up a few impossible scenarios where everything goes wonderfully, perfectly right).
They spend the day at his house, so that by early evening his mother is glad to see them both leave. After dinner at Larry’s, they head up to his room to change, figuring it’ll be easier to sneak out of Mr and Mrs Gold’s house than his own. He sits on the edge of Larry’s bed while Larry tries on five different shirts, and he talks Larry out of gelling his hair and talks him into taking one of his anxiety pills before he explodes. Then suddenly it’s dark and they’re out of the house, watching the bus turn the corner towards them.
Larry’s so twitchy that Kenny has no choice but to push him into a seat by the bus window and sit pressed against him to keep him from clambering out and trying to stop the bus. He wonders how bad Larry would have been without the pill, but doesn’t complain about the way he’s pressed against him, warm hip and thigh bumped against his own.
They double-check their pockets for I.D.s and cash a couple of streets away from the club, and he listens to Larry rehearsing lines and excuses under his breath. He wonders if he can get away with putting an arm around his shoulder to help calm him down, but then they round the corner and find there’s no queue outside Club Hedonism, just one bored-looking bouncer who stares right at them. Kenny manages somehow to keep Larry from freezing on the spot, no choice now but to take his arm and lead him right up to the door with what he hopes is a confident grin.
He’s almost disappointed when the bouncer waves them straight in. Larry’s actually about to ask if he wants to see their I.D.s, until Kenny drags him forward, into the club.
Inside, they take a moment to adjust to the pulsing lights and thumping music. There are just as many people standing around talking as there are dancing, and they’re not sure what they should do first. A few eyes turn their way, and Kenny knows they’re attracting more attention by just standing there.
“I’m gonna get us some drinks,“ he yells over the pounding bass, then repeats it with hand gestures until Larry nods in understanding. He stays where he is while Kenny heads for the bar, ignoring the stares.
He wonders if a beer or something might help Larry loosen up, but then remembers the pill, and cringes at the thought of Larry hopped up on drink and meds. But if he orders two soft drinks, the bartender will know they’re both underage. When he eventually fights his way to the front of the queue he orders a Coke and a beer, mentally rehearsing “Larry’s my designated driver” and trying not to cringe at how expensive the drinks are.
As he forces his way through the crowd, he half expects to find Larry being chatted up by some guy, so he thinks maybe a little part of his heart breaks when he finds Larry standing by the wall, alone, hands jammed into his pockets as he tries to make himself invisible. Kenny hands over the Coke, and Larry gulps down half of it straight away.
“So,” Larry yells as they watch the men on the dance floor, “this place is…”
“Loud? Sweaty?” They share a laugh, and Kenny takes a sip of his beer, wincing at the sharp taste. He notices a couple of guys looking their way, appreciative smiles that he doesn’t know how to respond to. Without thinking, he shuffles closer to Larry, and finds the staring guys lose interest.
For a while there’s just the music and the cold beer - it’s tough to make out faces in the darkness unless they’re up close, so mostly what he sees is a throbbing mass of bodies on the dance floor. They lean against the wall and nod their heads in time to the music, until his bottle is empty and Larry offers to go buy another.
He’s barely alone for ten seconds before someone’s standing by his side.
“Buy you a drink?” He feels hot breath on his ear. The face next to him is younger than he expected, shining with sweat and smiling confidently. Kenny has to think for a moment to remember the right answer.
“No, thanks. My friend just went to get me one.” The face is still grinning. “He’ll be back any second.”
“I saw him. The curly hair, right? But you’re not with him, right? I mean, he’s straight. You know he’s straight, right?”
“Tell me about it.” It’s out of his mouth before he realises, and next to him the smile grows wider.
“So if you don’t want a drink, how about a dance?”
Kenny tries to shuffle a little further away without being too obvious, but the smile follows him.
“Mind if I don’t? My friend’s gonna be back any second, I don’t want him to think I abandoned him.”
“He’ll understand.”
“Understand what?” A beer bottle is being waved in front of him, and then there’s Larry, holding his second glass of Coke and looking nervously between him and the smile. He grabs the beer and gratefully steps away, around to Larry’s other side. “Who’s this, Kenny?”
When he looks again, the smile has faded, but the guy’s still there, still won’t get the hint.
“I was just asking your friend if he wanted to dance. You don’t mind, do you?”
In the darkness, it’s hard to tell if Larry’s really as disappointed as Kenny wants him to be.
“Do you wanna dance with him, Kenny? ‘Cause I don’t mind if you do.” Larry takes a drink, eyeing them both over the top of his glass.
Kenny doesn’t have to look at the smile to make up his mind.
“No. No, I don’t.” And he grabs Larry’s elbow and marches him quickly away.
They find another corner, where Kenny drinks his beer and decides this whole thing was a big mistake. Beside him, Larry is getting more and more twitchy. Kenny wonders if they should just drink up and go.
“How come you didn’t want to dance with that guy?” Larry has to lean in and yell in his ear to make himself heard; the sudden closeness makes him jump a little. He takes another drink while he figures out what to say.
“I just didn’t want to.” Okay, so it’s not the most intelligent answer, but he really can’t think of a reason, other than because I’d rather dance with you.
“Well, if you see someone you do wanna dance with, I don’t mind. I’ll be fine. Really.” Larry’s grin is manic, and he’s hanging on to his empty glass for dear life. Kenny’s not sure if the beer’s made him reckless, or if he just needs to move, do something different. He plops his bottle on to a nearby table and plants a hand on Larry’s back, propelling him firmly towards the dance floor. Larry protests, but not quite enough, because soon they’re inside the mass of bodies, swaying to the music.
Everyone’s so close together that it’s hard to do anything other than bounce their knees and shoulders - no chance of busting a move from the ‘Dance Like Justin Timberlake’ DVD here. Sometimes another guy turns towards him and sort of dances at him, but each time Kenny turns away, moves a little closer to Larry. At first, Larry’s barely moving, but as they get into it, and the crowd pushes and jostles them, he notices Larry starting to relax, even smile. Every so often he even manages a little hip-bump or a thrust, and Kenny copies him, making it clear to everyone else that they’re dancing together, not just opposite each other.
When he finally loses count of how many songs they’ve danced to, he drags Larry back to the bar, downs his third beer, then pulls him back to the dance floor. Larry doesn’t protest this time, and they go another half dozen songs, shaking and bouncing and grinning like mad.
Then something happens and his attention finally comes back to the crowd around them. The press isn’t so close, people are leaving the dance floor. He wonders, sadly, if the club is closing, but then he realises the music hasn’t stopped, it’s just slowed, and the bodies around them are pressing together in pairs.
Shit.
Someone taps him on the shoulder and he turns to see a flushed young man in a ripped T-shirt, making the universal sign for ‘Can I have this dance?’ Panicking, he steps back and bumps into Larry. The young man shrugs and turns to someone else. Kenny turns to Larry, who looks just as freaked as he feels. He needs to make his mind up, otherwise they’re going to look like idiots, standing in the middle of all those swaying, grinding bodies, and someone will realise they’re just a couple of kids completely in over their heads.
Larry takes a step closer at the same time as he does, and he shakes his head at how ridiculous this is, at how unbelievable it is. Larry’s hands rest awkwardly on his shoulders, so he takes a deep breath and puts his own sweaty hands on Larry’s waist, careful not to press too close. Looking him in the eye while they do this is just too weird, so he settles for putting his head on Larry’s shoulder, grateful when Larry doesn’t try to push him away.
They sway in a sort of jerky circle, and Kenny thinks this is either the best night of his life or the most humiliating. Larry’s hands never move, and he takes that as a sign not to try and hold Larry any closer, even though it’s awkward keeping this gap between them. Even though he wants nothing more than to press himself against Larry and wrap both arms around him. He can feel heat radiating from Larry’s body, and sweat pooling in the small of his own back. It’s hardly romantic, but Kenny knows he’ll remember this forever.
Finally the song ends, and they can leave the dance floor without everyone staring. Without talking, they both head for the door, Kenny’s shoulder bumping against Larry’s as they weave through the crowd.
Outside, he finds himself shivering at the cold. Three beers make him do silly things, it seems, because he puts an arm around Larry’s shoulders, rubbing a little under pretence of keeping them warm.
Larry manages to hail them a cab, and in the back seat they don’t bother with seatbelts, bunching together in the middle. Hey, it’s still cold even in the cab, right? Kenny knows he’s still grinning, knows the driver is watching them in the rear-view mirror, and doesn’t care.
They tell the driver to stop a couple of streets away from home so that no one’s parents hear the engine running outside their house. Larry counts out some cash and pays him, and they clamber out into the street again, shivering.
They walk home, bumping shoulders now and again.
“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be,” Larry whispers, his breath clouding in front of them.
“I actually had fun,” he replies, and he can hear the smile in his voice.
“Although I’m glad no guys asked me to dance.” Larry’s puff of laughter forms white wisps in the air. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if I’d told anyone there I was straight.” He nudges Kenny with a shoulder and smiles at him. “I’m glad you had fun.” Somehow, Kenny manages to return the smile.
When they reach Larry’s house, Kenny wonders whether he should just make his excuses and sneak back up to his own room, but Larry looks confused and a little sad when he hesitates, so he follows Larry into the Gold house, up the stairs to Larry’s room. He knows nothing’s going to happen, but tell that to his belly, which is still fizzing and churning like it’s waiting for something.
As they settle into their separate beds, Larry leans over and whispers, “We can go again if you want. Maybe you’ll meet someone next time.”
Kenny just smiles and waits for the lights to go out before he lets himself remember the way it felt to dance with Larry.