Title: Balance Author: Stormyfish Fandom: View Askewniverse, Chasing Amy Pairing: Banky/Holden Rating: PG-13 (This one's a nice softy.) Warnings: Not suitable for kids, etc. Archive: Sure. E-mail address for feedback: stormyfish1@hotmail.com Summary: Sequel to "Next." I highly recommend reading it first. Banky's POV on the morning after the Holden's "indecent proposal" and an unanticipated mutual kiss. Disclaimer: Mr. Smith, thanks for the boys, and we'll always give them back when we're done playing with them. No infringement or theft intended. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ I stood there staring at the stacks of books, not sure what I was looking for but absolutely sure that I needed to look. There's gotta be something new out here I can focus on for an hour or so. I haven't gotten into Mike Turner's new book yet-maybe that can keep me busy for a while. I hear his new ocean chick is really hot. .where is that? "Edwards.Don't you have any place else to buy comics? Someplace that appreciates sellouts and a prepubescent sense of humor?" Steve-Dave snarled. "Fuck you. Does your mother not love you or something?" "That's all you've got, *Bluntman*???.' <>. The words just keep coming. Does anybody listen to that asshole? He continued his string of predictable insults while I thumbed through the boxes, electing not to listen or respond. Whatever. "Have you got Turner's new book? Where's that?" "Fathom? I think that's a little intellectually challenging for you, Edwards-" "Would you fucking *save it*? Where are they?" He tilted his head toward the back left corner. Jackpot. Some "comic relief" for the next few hours. I collected and paid for the first six issues and headed back to the apartment. I wandered back home in a haze, caught up in my thoughts. Wow. This morning was even more nuts than last night. This is fucking ludicrous. How did we get here? One day we're the fucking Wondertwins, the next day that *bitch* comes and turns his head into malt-o-meal, then he gets all kinky, and the next day we're fucking fags. Fuck. I can't believe I kissed him. Did that really happen??? I can't believe he fucking told me to. And I fucking *did it*, like I don't have free will or something. Was that today? Holy shit. That really was today. Fuck. Am I asleep? Before I knew it I was standing on the front step, unlocking the door to the apartment that Holden and I had lived in for the past two and half years. After the incident that I'd rather not discuss happened this morning, I stayed in my room until I heard him leave. It must have been hours.I just didn't want him to look at me. What would my eyes have said to him? Does he think I'm a freak, or do we agree that he's the freak? <> "Jesus." He's back. "Hey," he said. Holden caught my eyes for a second, glanced nervously around the room, and quickly returned to the drawing in front of him. Tossing my purchases to the floor, I went to my side of the desk. Drawing-Good idea. We can do this. We chatted casually, tentatively at first, about Bluntman and Chronic.suggesting potential storylines, trading sketches, approving each other's work, etc. It was good. It was better than good; it was an indescribable relief. We slid back into balance, into our comfortable tempo. Fuck Yes. By the time we snapped out of our work-trance, it was dark out. Well after eight o'clock. Damn-where did the day go? "Have you eaten anything today? Man cannot live on Mountain Dew alone," Holden said, grinning, "Do you want to go get something?" "Yeah." I answered deliberately, looking him squarely in the eyes. The Mountain Dew remark was referring to the breakfast of choice that I was enjoying when he turned the world upside down. "Well, at least I finally brushed my teeth today." This replay of this morning's repartee was an acknowledgement that I got what he was really saying to me, which was, 'I haven't blacked-out this morning.' He smiled that all-knowing turtlenecky smile that is completely his. Shithead. I volleyed with a shoulder shrug and a who-gives-a-fuck face. "Does this mean you want to talk about it?" Holden asked. I searched his face for the correct response. What does he want me to say? Do I want to talk about it?.This is so fucking weird. A dozen new thoughts rushed through my mind. Being myself with him is turning out to be so much easier than I expected, and maybe I'm just drunk with relief that right now. I'm so fucking psyched that we're still friends that I can't think even straight. *Straight.* Words mean different things today than they meant yesterday. He stared at me. "Oh. Sorry. Um,..yeah, I guess I kinda do. I really don't know what to say exactly though. You first." Why did I say that? Banky, shut the fuck up. "No. Food first." We ordered a pizza, played a few rounds of Sega, and drank a few beers. You really do forget how awesome Molson Canadian is. Most definitely an underappreciated malt beverage, and I think I may take it upon myself to bring it back as a force in the Jersey bar scene. You see Molson Golden or Molson Ice often enough, but hardly ever just plain Canadian. Three beers down, I turned to Holden and said, "OK, lets hear it, Mr. I-wanna-talk-about-it." I tried to offer up my best casual-sarcastic tone. "You." Holden's eyes implored me for mercy, while his face was still, caught between and a smirk and an expression of concern. "O---K-----..." After a long thirty-seconds or so-time-stretched out to an hour-this wave of maturity came over me. "This is fucking childish. So you made me kiss you. I *kissed* you. What's the "big deal*? It's not like I sucked your dick or anything." "I can't believe you actually did it." "Did you not expect me to? What the fuck would you have done if I didn't? I saved you from a having to sweat through the mortifying rejection moment you deserved to suffer through." Clearly that remark frustrated Holden, who couldn't seem to summon the meaningful conversation he was hoping for. "OK, Bank, so you're saying that it was all for me." His sarcasm was weak. I ignored him. "Do I suck?" "What??" Holden missed my line of questioning. I just wanted to know. "Do I suck, or am I a respectable kisser?" "Uh-No. No. You definitely don't.suck. It was, uh.you were, uh, pretty decent, actually." Wow. This discussion is another new and exciting sensation. I feel like a dirty priest or something, like I'm getting a kick out of something I've taken vows against. "Would you do it again?" "No." This one hit me hard. Why the fuck not? If it was so 'decent', then why wouldn't he do it again? "Interesting." I said. "Expound." "Well, what do you mean? We found out what it was like, you kissed me to get beyond whatever Alyssa issues we had, the air had been cleared, amen. No reason to go there." " 'Whatever Allysa issues we had' are not necessarily over with, but I'll let that slide for right now." I just looked at him, straight into his eyes, challenging the sincerity of his dismissive speech. An unpersuasive part of my brain urged me to casually look at the floor instead, but I ignored it. "Bullshit aside for just a minute though, seriously, I just have to say that it felt totally different than I expected-" "Oh, so you *have* thought about it," Holden teased, pleased with himself for finding a way to put some of the responsibility on me for once. "Fucking shut-up, would you? It felt different than I *would have* expected. You're lips were all-girl-like, super soft and everything. I guess I kind of figured guys lips would be all manly or something." He produced a few syllables in agreement, so I continued. "Honestly, it felt fucking awesome-I mean, totally aside from that whole fag thing. I didn't think I was gonna be capable of rational thought for a few days. You smelled like a guy and your skin was so *rough*. It was pretty fucking shocking. Fucked up and shocking." The words just kept on dumping out of my mouth. I just needed to get it out of my system I think. Did it work? Because from the looks of things, it didn't. I allowed him to follow my eyes to his crotch, where I eeked a small thrill out of finding him hard. From a conversation. This conversation. "Wanna play, Holden McNeil? " I mocked. I decided I had the upper hand, and suddenly wanted to exploit it. Holden blushed and turned his head away. "Why?" He asked pointedly, his face a juxtaposition of annoyance and discomfort. "Why? 'Why not?' is a much better question." I was challenging. Making Holden feel younger than me is one of my favorite pastimes. Like I'm the bad influence showing the sidekick the ropes. "Banky, fuck you, " he said, after his expression changed from uncomfortable to smug. His fiery eyes said, 'I'll see your $250, and I'll raise you a grand.' He pulled me in with one forceful motion, immersing my lips and mind and body in the fullest kiss I've ever felt. He surrounded me. His arms around me, his palm on my hat, his lips-bringing mine to life in the most dizzying kiss I could ever have imagined. I felt him in my knees, on the bottom of my feet, on the back of my neck, pulsing through me, through my hot blood. And in my dick. Oh yeah. I got so hard, so fast that I almost panicked. For a moment I just surrendered to him and let my body drink what he offered to me. I think I was paralyzed. If I had any reservations or reluctance about this moment, there was no chance of it making it to the surface. My conscious mind was way too fucking busy. My dick and my body needed him-I was overcome with it-and moaned for him. Once. Shamelessly. Who cares. Let go. In a fury I pulled at him, grabbing all of him that I could reach; it was as if I needed him so badly I didn't know where to start. I'm sure the aerial view was quite hilarious-I was just too fucking horny to be humiliated. Pulling off his sweater and white tee shirt, I ran my hands across his chest. So..Male. Soooo Holden. <> I touched, kissed, studied, worshiped, and made him breathe like he'd just run a fucking marathon. God Damn it was hot. I heard my own words resonate in my head, 'Why not?' We moved from the wall to the couch, shirts flying, until he had me flat on my back with his hands on my belt. "Oh God, Banky, I can't believe we're doing this. I---. You're amazing, and I can't even tell you how much I want you. You... I can't explain it. Please don't make me try to explain it. --" Through his words he kissed my body in a shower of urgent, wet kisses. My cock throbbed-constricted and impatient inside my jeans. "I can explain it. It's Dick. I told you, I 'get' fags. Can we just not analyze it? Just--Please, Holden please." I begged, involuntarily, as my best friend clutched my brown leather belt. Our eyes locked together, exchanging through them excitement, fear, lust, desire, apprehension, permission, self-consciousness beat out by confidence, questions and answers while Holden unbuckled my belt. There is no turning back, His big, masculine hands massaged my waist; I felt small. My skin burned where he touched me. He nuzzled my hipbone, and I writhed and bucked as he lavished attention there. Indescribable. "Uhhhhh...Mmmm uhhhhFuck!" <> My mind said much more than my voice could. He mumbled, "Banky you don't even know..how you look.how you feel. You're unbelievable." I'm almost screaming what I hope he'll give me, but I can't even form the thoughts in case he doesn't do it. <> Before I can get my breath together, he deftly lowers my pants. Holden steadies himself against the fear in his mind and draws my head into his mouth. Oh. God. s His mouth. Soft. Wet. White hot. I tangled my finders into his hair as he took more of me. Fire and ice. I've had my dick sucked as much as anybody else, but Holden was fucking unreal. I've never felt anything like this. He sucked me firmly and tenderly at the same time.I moved with his rhythm, and he moved with mine. His tongue knew what I needed more than I did.<> His tongue danced and licked, fast and then slow, and I could tell that he was playing with me in different ways to see how my reactions changed. I was aware of it, but I could no easier control my vocals than I could my body or the events of this night. He took me deeply in, and out, in and out, in, and----"OH. GOD! Fuck!!!" I yelled from the bottom of my gut. "Holden.. Yes. PLEASE! Oh SHIT! Ahhhhh uhhhhh, uhhhh." , My blood turned to champagne in an instant, rushing through my veins and bringing my most distant extremities to tingle. He sucked me hungrily, passionately, until I had nothing left to give him. He dropped his head to my stomach, torso resting on my knees. We lay stretched out this way on the couch, wet and breathless and completely intoxicated. "Well, Holden McNeil, if that comic thing doesn't work out, I think we may have found your calling." "Hm." I could tell he was smiling, a little, but I heard a little worry and embarrassment, too. "We've got a lot to deal with here-a lot between us. But quit worrying-and I *know* you are-because we're not gonna fuck it up. There's too much at stake here for that. You worry too god damn much," I scolded. "Now get the hell up here." He raised himself beside me, and I kissed him with all the meaning of the last twelve years and abandon of no tomorrow. With that, I unbuckled his belt. "Thanks-for this. And for making it easy." Holden said, with genuine relief wedged between the expressions of desperation and desire on his face. Easy. Ha! What the fuck *is* this? Why don't I care? I can't fucking imagine the future. Not even tomorrow. We'll find our balance again-some balance-we *have* to. But I'd bet you everything I've got that it's not gonna be easy.