Series Title: Taking Time
Title Part 2: Ashtray
Author: RunRunGuyDib
Fandom: Askewniverse (Clerks)
Pairing: Dante/Randal (although nothing really happens to really fulfill that right now)
Rating: R (for language, natch)
Summary: The "official" first "date."
Archive: Uhm, sure, though I dunno if it's good enough to deserve anyone to archive. If you want it, contact me. (Or if there are any suggestions on where to put it, please contact me. :p)
Email: RunRunGuyDib
Series/Sequel: Yes, it's a series. 3 planned (thus far).
Spoilers: Mentions things from Clerks, yup.
Web Page: http://somethingpro.tripod.com
Disclaimer: Nothing here belongs to me. Well, the girl Jane Martin does, but she's only mentioned, but she IS mine . . . MINE!!! 'Coz she's a hottie. Anyway, anything Askewniverse related belongs to Kevin Smith, View Askew, etc. I am not making any money offa this, and that's about all.
Author's note: I do not like this. I do not like the second part. And when I get the third part written, I probably won't like that either. It's my first slash fanfic *ever* and this is actually a very hypocritical thing of me to be doing. (Not that I'm homophobic or anything . . . I'm just usually very against slash stories. :p) But I hope this is remotely enjoyable. >_> (Even though I am probably a tad OOC and using clich?s, but cut me slack, it's my first time. Virgin slasher. XD)

And I wish I could find somewhere to show off my regular fanfics and fanart and fancomics et al. ^^;;
~*~*~*~*~*~

A couple of months since the first "official" date had passed, Dante and Randal were still dating. Quite happily, in fact. Extremely happy. And other such adverbs and adjectives. It had been awkward at first, but their dates became more and more frequent; Dante actually welcomed Randal into the Quick Stop; with each date they became more courageous. It was as if they were on their first serious relationship ever all over again. Only, unlike most cases in high school, they actually took the time to develop the relationship, make sure they weren't making any stupid mistakes that would ruin everything. And so they usually stayed away from anything above "second base" until they both felt it was safe to. They didn't tell anyone they were dating. Not because they were necessarily afraid of being judged or the like, but more because they didn't feel the need to announce the fact they were. They were cheerful and in love, and it was for them alone.

Two people they knew DID know about their relationship, however. Jay and Silent Bob had heard them talk about going on a date, but they brushed it off as something they had misheard . . . until they rushed into the Quick Stop escaping some police cars one night and found the two clerks kissing it up behind the counter. Bob not really being a problem, they were more concerned about Jay running around and blowing everything out of proportion to people they knew, but Jay said that it wasn't any fun calling them "fags" when they really WERE. So he had went off to ponder other ways to annoy them.

Randal came in after being in the video store for a couple of hours, sauntering and smirking at his boyfriend, eyes shining.

Dante smiled fondly back, but didn't make any other gestures so as not to bother the old woman who was counting out change for milk and bread. Quietly, Randal picked up a porno magazine and sat down on the second stool, opening it. Finally, the lady left. Now comfortably alone, Dante turned to the blond who was still flipping through the magazine.

"So . . . what were you grinning about just a moment ago?"

Randal turned and briefly lowered the magazine to kiss Dante soundly on the lips. "Well . . . you know how you were bitching about being too damned uncomfortable dancing with me in regular bars--"

Dante laughed nervously. "I dunno why I am."

"I dunno either, especially when you can French me right in the middle of the street. But noooo you can't dance in some bar with me." He turned the page to punctuate his point. "I should be offended. Jesus."

Dante's face was blank. "Uh, sorry?"

"Damn straight."

"So, you were saying? . . ." he prompted.

"Oh, yeah, anyway. Your strange phobia, just as strange as those afraid to piss in public restrooms, led me to do some research, and I'm taking ya somewhere tonight."

Dread fell over the Quick Stop clerk. "What?"

"A gay club."

Dante snorted, reeling his head. "Randal. . . ."

"What?"

"A gay club?"

Randal looked up. "Yes, Dante. We ARE gay. Or do you feel so special with ME you need some new label?" He winked and clicked his tongue as he pointed at Dante. "Randalsexual." Dante facefaulted. "Yeah, we should start a RANDY bar."

"That is incredibly LAME," Dante sneered. Then he added in a warning voice, "And I'd be the only Randalsexual there, RIGHT?"

Randal shrugged. " 'Less I have some kinda secret admirer, sure. But all jokes aside here, it's the Faerie Wing on Hesh and Sixth. First of all, I like faeries." He smiled and fluttered his hands like wings. "Second of all, everyone I asked said it was the best in the relative area."

Dante still looked worried. "I dunno. . . . I mean, that's incredibly considerate of you to do that, but I dunno how I'd feel there."

"Ho-ly fuck, Dante!" he chuckled. "You getting homophobic on me, you fag?"

"No . . ." he murmured. "Have you seen the place?"

"Nope."

"I'm just imagining, you know, weird guys in leather or--I dunno, a cowboy hat and a speedo." He laughed. "Like those weird guys in the parades."

Randal shrugged. "No worse than what can be seen in a regular club, but only in those ones you have women and boobies." He turned the centerfold toward Dante, lifting his eyebrows.

"Yes yes," he readily agreed. "But . . ."

Randal's hand patted Dante's shoulder. "Dante, you'll be fine. You'll be with me. I'm doing this for you, you know." Smile. "I want to dance with you and get you to shut up about it."

Dante nodded, taking hold of the other man's hand. "Well, I really do appreciate it."

"You'd better."

"Maybe it's just clubs in general. I can't dance worth shit, it's probably just my embarrassment coming through."

"Sure it is, my adorable homophobic love." He leaned forward once more, kissing him deeply this time, engulfing his attention. They didn't hear the door open or close.

"Would youze look at that, Lunchbox! Ain't love sweet?"

They broke the kiss with an annoyed grunt, peering up at the stoners. Bob was grinning and nodding his head to what Jay had said. Jay leaned on the counter, smiling. "Don' stop on our accounts, boyz."

"Why?" Randal opened the magazine again. "Is it the only thing to get you off while your little girlfriend is stuck in prison?"

Jay drew back, his face contorted in insult. "That was fuckin' low, man. Shit, wasn' it, Silent Bob?" He glanced at his friend who was nodding, glaring at Randal. When Jay returned his glare to the clerk, though, Bob shook his head "no." Both clerks chuckled. Bemused, Jay just gestured and Bob laid down some money. "The usual carton for mah boy here."

Dante reached up, asking, "Anything in your pocket I should know about?"

Jay smiled slyly and answered simply, "Yes."

He sighed and clapped down the carton and took the money. "I'm not even gonna bother, get out of here!"

Bob shoved the cigarettes into his pocket and waved at them, Jay calling, "Snoogans. So nice of youze. See ya, clerks!"

Ding.

Dante muttered under his breath and leaned on the counter. "Fucking burners. I can't believe they were able to dissolve the restraining order."

"Money talks, my friend," Randal responded, putting the porn mag back. "I'm going to go check up on RST. Want me to bring back the VCR and a movie?"

"Sure." He added on second thought, "No porn, please."

"Oh, fine. I dunno what else to bring in then."

"Something stupid."

"THAT narrows the choice. Be back in a bit."

They spent the remaining hours sitting on the floor behind the counter, Dante sitting snug in Randal's arms and between his legs as they watched a couple of bad B horror movies. Dante had done the change on the counter trick, only getting up once in awhile to hand someone cigarettes. Randal would sometimes turn up the tortuous screams of the pretty female victims being torn apart, scaring the shit out of some customers, much to Dante's chargin.

Closing time came and they left, noticing that Jay and Bob were gone, perhaps out to make deals elsewhere. Dante gave the keys to Randal so he could drive them right to the Faerie Wing. "I can't even dance, you know," Dante stated again, breaking the silence.

"Yes, Dante, you've said that already. But ANYone can dance," Randal said back.

"I can't dance WELL," Dante corrected. "You remember Elaine? From 'Seinfeld'?"

"Yeah. I hope you can dance better than THAT."

"Fuck yeah. But NOT by much."

"No one WHITE can dance well. You either hop up and down for fast songs, or the Mormon shuffle for slow dances."

"Mormon shuffle?" he laughed.

"You know, just holding one another and shuffling in circles."

"Aw, yes, I figured. But I never heard that term before."

"Oh, a girl I had dated from back west said it to me. It stuck, I guess." He reached out and ruffled Dante's hair. Dante hated that. "So don't worry, hun. You'll be fine. But you have a cute ass, so watch out."

"NOW who's being the discriminatory one, Randal?"

"Hey," he exclaimed, pointing. "I get paranoid ANYwhere with you. Guy or girl."

Dante smiled. "That's nice to know. I would love to see you cold cock a woman hitting on me."

"Hey, if she started shit, I WOULD."

Dante was oddly pleased by this information.

The Faerie Wing was a small, refurnished warehouse that wasn't too terribly packed, but it was busy. Moreso than what they were used to. Randal had been correct; it was like any thing found in a regular raving club, but what the girls would usually be wearing was worn by the more . . . fey of the men. But for the most part it was very normal. A bar with men drinking themselves into oblivion as they looked for dates, any dates, to stop their pitiful loneliness. Tables in the back were filled with couples and stags. At the front was a DJ, and the floor was packed with bodies leaping around like maniacs, with a few exceptions that could actually DANCE.

"Go get a table, Dante, I'll get us some drinks." Dante nodded. "What do you want?"

"Whatever sounds good to you," he answered. "But nothing hard since I'll be driving back."

"Gotchya." Randal left for the bar, adjusting his cap, glancing around at all the other men with a disdainful look. Dante found a table on the edge of the dance floor, and he also looked at all the other men, hoping none would think he was available. (He'd hate to see Randal try to start a fight with some of these guys . . .) He jumped in start when he heard a voice from behind say loudly over the music, "Here you go!"

"Dammit, Randal, don't sneak up on me!" he yelled over the music, and in relief.

"Sorry," Randal answered, looking anything but. He set down the drinks.

"Ah, thanks." He took the one offered him, a glass full of ice and a brownish-orangish liquid. "What IS it?"

"I have no clue," Randal replied, holding a drink that was an unrecognizable yellow. "I think it's, like, sun tea mixed with some alcohol. I just picked out whatever had the lowest alcohol content. They said it was good--just drink it!" he snapped, tired of trying to explain it.

He shrugged and took a sip. Tea wasn't one of his favorite things in the world, but the drink itself wasn't so bad. Randal's was apparently strong, or just bitter, for he made an odd grimace at every pull.

"I feel embarrassed for them," Dante unexpectedly proclaimed, nodding toward the dance floor.

"Why?"

"Look at 'em dance." He chuckled. "They look so silly, so goddamned silly. For some reason it's fun to watch girls flop around like they're in pain, but GUYS look like . . . I dunno. Flailing, fleshy bears."

Randal nodded. "Yes, you're right. At least they don't look as stupid as the dances way back when. Like in bikini movies of the Sixties. Everyone looked like they were having seizures."

"Heh, yeah. I always expect someone to flop on the ground and start foaming at the mouth."

There was a pause, the bass thumping in their ears. "You want to go flail around like pain-filled bears as well?" Randal asking, taking a pull and making a grimace.

"No, not really." He took a drink. "Not yet anyway. You think they play slow music here? THAT'S all I wanted to do with you."

"I'm sure they do, just gotta wait." He sat down his drink, glancing around. "Think we can get FOOD here? I'm starving." He glanced at Dante. "You hungry?"

"Nah," he answered, playing with the lemon slice that came with his drink. "Want this?" He held it up.

"You squeeze it yet?"

"No."

He snatched the fruit away and popped it in his mouth, the peel poking out from between his lips. He sucked in, smiling. "Lemons yummy," he slurred out. Holding out his finger, he gave Dante a "wait a minute" look, then he pointed at the bar. Dante nodded and Randal left.

As luck would have it, a few seconds later the fast song ended and the DJ announced for "da lovahs" to gather and dance as close as they could. Show their love and other such shit. A strange, slow techno- ish song played, a woman singing throatily to it, the words too digitized to be understood. It was nice, romantic in its own way, though. The lights had dimmed, the mass of men slowed into something respectable, not a writhing ball of jumbled limbs.

Dante took a drink, grumbling and squinting into the darkness, searching for Randal. From behind, the said blond snuck up on Dante once again, this time wrapping his arms around his head, shoving a lemon slice in his mouth. Dante's eyes bugged and he threw the arms off him, spitting out the slice. He cringed from the awfully sour taste.

Randal laughed, sitting down and dumping a small pile of lemons on the table. "The only food they have." He sucked on another one, barely fazed by the sour, unlike Dante.

"Gwa . . ." Dante took a deep drink, dulling the hurtful taste. "Argh, lemons!"

"Don't like them?"

"No." He dropped the slice. "No, not really."

"You fucking weirdo," he huffed.

"Spit out your lemon, let's go dance now."

"Don't you think it'll end soon?"

"These kinda mixes last a long time." Randal sucked more on the lemon, quirking an eyebrow. Dante gave a horribly painful pleading look.

"Suck the lemon and I will." His eyes sparked in the purple lighting.

"You son of a bitch." He picked up his discarded piece, slowly inching it to his mouth as he sneered.

"Hurry, 'lovah'," he laughed, imitating the DJ.

"Jesus, I hate you." Breathing in and screwing his eyes shut, he popped it in, biting down and sucking it dry. Shivering several times, he took it out and showed the slice that only had withered pulp left. "Happy?"

Randal studied it and gave a lopsided grin. "Wow, you're good . . ."

"Shut up before you get into sexual innuendoes and let's dance before the song DOES end."

Keeping his word, he went out with Dante on the fringe, trying to keep themselves. One pattern of song ended, but another slow one picked up, the purple light turning into a deep red one. The DJ murmured something or other that neither men paid attention to, but some in the crowd whooped at.

"Think you're brave enough to dance NOW, Dante?" Randal teased, grabbing the man on the hips, kneading his fingers in softly.

"I sucked a damn lemon for you, I had better be prepared to dance," he answered, wrapping his arms around the blond's neck.

"Good." He reached behind Dante, resting his hands on the small of his back, pulling Dante slowly close until there was no space between them. They shuffled to and fro to the low beat music. Dante buried his face in Randal's neck while Randal himself nudged into his friend's soft, black hair, smiling and breathing in deeply, enjoying the smell.

"This is nice," Dante murmured. "Feels funny to be the shorter one, but very nice."

"Yes, I have to agree." He rubbed his face into the hair more. "How come I'm liking things with YOU I usually hate with women?"

Dante shrugged slightly. "Because I'm MAGICAL."

"I wouldn't go that far," he whispered, but Dante heard it anyway over the music.

"Yes, sure I am!" He softly pecked Randal's neck.

"Hmm . . ." His smiled deepened and his arms lifted up to tighten around Dante's torso. "That's nice."

"Of course it is." He kissed him again on the fleshy part where the neck and shoulder connected. Randal moaned and attempted to pull Dante even closer, which wasn't possible but fuck if he didn't try. "See, magic!" He continued kissing up and down his neck, inciting many low and pleased sounds from his love. Dante's breath was nearly being squeezed out of him. 'His neck is too damned sensitive,' he chuckled, delivering a small bite to it.

Suppressing a squeak, Randal pulled back, jerking his head side to side to relive the itch made by Dante's teeth. "Fucking tease."

"What're you gonna do?" He smiled up at him. "Make me suck another lemon?"

"Hm," he smirked. "Nah, just kiss me."

"Kiss you?"

"Yeah, you should have no problem with that, Mr. Try-to-make-out-with- Randal-in-a-McDonald's."

"I have no problem with it, but you sucked about six lemons back there." He cringed. "The taste . . ."

"That's . . ." he leaned in, face centimeter from Dante's, " . . . the point, mah boy." His mouth enveloped Dante's, greedily taking him in, making sure Dante could taste as much lemon as he could. The lemon taste wasn't too strong, of course, so Dante didn't mind falling dreamily into the kiss, his hands up into Randal's hat.

They didn't know how much time had past, or how long the song was, they didn't even notice they had quit the Mormon shuffle. They just stood pleasantly lost in each other's embrace--

Until someone tapped Randal's shoulder.

Hesitantly, he opened his eyes, peering down at the dark haired man who was oblivious to the interruption. He broke away, turning to glance over his shoulder, ignoring Dante's protest. "What the fuck do you want?" he grumbled at the man behind him who had a shaved head and a number of piercings. "I'm a bit busy here."

The man smiled a bit lewdly. "Mind if I cut in?"

Randal spun around, his face contorted in anger. "Hey, butt-fucker, stay away or--"

The man held up his hands. "Whoah, I meant to dance, not . . ." grin, " . . . what you two were doing just a second ago."

Randal looked at him, mildly suspicious, but he stepped aside. "Be my guest."

Dante bristled. "Hey, I'm not some fucking sissy here, do I get a say?"

Randal smiled as if to say "no." "You mind, Dante?" The bald man stood placidly by.

"But--"

"I'll be over there sucking lemons," Randal told as he pinched Dante's cheek. "You'll be fine, honey bunches of oats. I'll watch from the table."

"Honey bunches of oats?" Dante asked, bemused.

"Yes." Pause. "Have fun!"

He walked away, hearing Dante laugh nervously and state, "Argh, fast dancing . . . I'm not that good."

"Don't worry," the man said. "No one here is."

Randal sat back at their table, playing with the lemon slices, not really feeling like eating them at that point. He watched Dante dancing with the pierced man, looking very uncomfortable as he tried not to dance as maniacally as everyone else. He also tried to keep a wide berth of the man. Any time Dante caught Randal's eye he would scowl, and Randal would chuckle.

"Look at Dante, he's such a spazz," he laughed to himself, dropping the fruit and holding his head. "He can't dance worth shit. But damned if he isn't cute trying." He suddenly hoped the song would end. He wanted Dante back in his arms, wanted his lips again. His head lowered to the table with a thunk, flushing. "Shit, I'm giving myself a hard on," he muttered. "Shit shit." His eyes squeezed shut. "Oh, Dante." Randal felt tired suddenly as he thought deeply. He was happy, so terrifyingly happy. He had always been happy with Dante before dating, but now he was extremely happy in a new way. Randal loved it and wouldn't trade it in for anything. But . . . it worried him to no end. He was afraid that maybe something would go wrong. Too wrong. They would break up both their relationships, love AND friendship. The world would fall apart.

He could tell Dante felt the same. They both skirted the edges of becoming too serious--no sex. Not even a clear statement of "I love you." Randal desperately wanted to do that, declare the fact he was in love and the happiest than he had been for years. Just lay in bed with Dante, hold him close, and just whisper, "I love you!" over and over again in his ear. But fear kept him, and perhaps even Dante, back.

"Or perhaps we're both pussies," he snorted, calming down. His head lifted, blinking his eyes into focus as he searched for the man.

He was gone.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed. "Fuck, where is he?" He searched the fringe of the dance floor again, frantically. Nothing. He looked at the tables behind him. Not there. "Dante!" he screamed loudly. "Daaante!" He stood and ran to the dance floor, peering over people's bobbing heads. "Dante!!"

"What?!" he heard a very unfamiliar voice shout back.

He gritted his teeth. "Dante HICKS!" he called instead. "Dante HICKS!!" No answer. Swearing some more, he pushed through the dancers, cutting to the bar.

He stopped. Dante was at the far end of the bar, drinking a glass of water deeply. The man was sitting beside him, leaning forward unnecessarily close. Dante was leaning back, slowly downing the water, keeping a distance. He didn't look very pleased. Randal couldn't hear what the man was saying, but his lips were forming words that Randal didn't like. The blond felt his own face go hot, his brow creasing. He went over to the bar, grabbing a hard, glass ashtray off it as he went. Stalking forward, he eventually could hear Dante's voice coming in clearer, "--cleared now. I'd better be getting back to my friend, he'll be worried."

"Wait till I get my drink, he can wait. How serious are you two? Any chance WE could try a date, or--?"

"Well, we've been dating for a couple of months, but we--"

"Ah, so you can't be too serious in that short period of--" He was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder and Dante's suddenly cheerful face. He glanced back, growling, "Shit, I'm with someone right now--"

"Mine," Randal sated, slamming his fist into the man's face. He collapsed on the floor, blood trickling from his mouth, completely dazed.

"Wow," Dante breathed, standing and stepping over the body. "I didn't know you can punch THAT hard."

"Oh, I can't." Randal tossed the ashtray in the air and caught it was a snap of his wrist. "But ashtrays add to the HURT." He set it down with a haughty air. "Come on, let's go." He put his arm around Dante's shoulders as they weaved for the exit.

"Randal?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's never go to another club, ANY club."

"I promise."

As they neared the door, they heard someone scream over the beats, "Where the fuck is the blond chicken shit that sucker punched me?!?"

They paused. "I think that's our cue to run now," Randal declared casually, grabbing Dante's wrist and dashing out of the club and through the parking lot. "Give me the keys!"

"But--"

"Hurry!"

"Oh-kay." Dante pulled the car keys out, handing them to the capped man. He broke free of his hold to go to the passenger door. In a moment, they drove off leaving behind a very pissed man in the lot.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Randal drove to a park. Not a park with toys, but a recreational park where joggers and picnickers and their dogs were during the day. At night, couples went to do whatever they pleased, hidden from view from any peepers and police officers that were on patrol for people selling drugs or what have you there.

He parked in the dirt laid parking lot that was dotted with a few other vehicles, and walked into a cluster of trees. It was a small lilac grove surrounding a deciduous tree. Giving a long sigh, Randal lowered himself down between t roots, leaning his had back, face up to the sweeping branched above. Dante sat in front of him, cross- legged. Randal had his knees up, hands dangling from them. "How's your hand?" Dante asked lowly.

"Hurts some," Randal answered, face still up. "The ashtray jabbed into it pretty good." He smirked evilly. "But it was worth it. I shoulda just punched him for cutting in alone."

Dante laughed. "I swear to God he was desperate. He was about ready to go down on me at any moment."

Randal lowered his head, a sudden serious look across it. "I woulda shoved the ashtray up his ass, then."

"My hero." He looked Randal up and down. With his head, he vaguely gestured at the space between the blond's legs. "Mind if I--?"

Randal straightened out and widened his legs. "Nah, come on." Dante turned around and scooted back until he was sitting snug, leaning back on Randal's chest, the blond's arms encircling him. Sighing, Randal leaned his head back into Dante's hair. "You know," he whispered, "you CAN'T dance worth shit."

Dante huffed. "Fuck you. You never danced, bet you're not any better."

"You're probably right, but I didn't agree to dance with some other guy."

Dante pushed back, trapping Randal between him and the tree, knocking breath from him. "YOU agreed for me."

He coughed. "Sure I did."

He pushed again. "AND you made me suck a lemon."

Another cough. "I still think you have great talent."

"You wouldn't know the half of it," he grinned, tilting his head to look at Randal.

"Like YOU'VE sucked off a load of guys to know."

"Perhaps . . . but you can't deny some things."

"Like nearly sucking my tongue out of my mouth?"

"Yes."

"Okay, good example."

"You know what?"

"What?"

"My ass is wet."

Randal shifted. "Mine, too."

There was a pause. "I . . . think I'll be standing up now." He jumped up, spinning around, hiding the dirtied spot in embarrassment. "The sprinklers must have been on . . ."

Randal stood, trying to look at the seat of his pants as he brushed off grass clumps and dirt. "Good deduction."

"Jesus!" he exclaimed in frustration. "We have to leave a fucking club or get ourselves killed, and now a nice romantic night in a park is ruined because of wet asses. This is not a good night."

Randal shrugged, nonplused. "We can go somewhere else."

"Where?"

He thought in silence, then smiled, meandering up to Dante. He put his arms around his neck, lowering his face before Dante's. His breath was still lemony. "I was thinking somewhere very nice."

"Nowhere that requires nude girls to straddle poles, please."

"Dammit, Dante, why are you always so paranoid about shit like that?"

"Because I know you, and any time you say some place special, THAT'S what you suggest."

"Feh, and what makes you think you know me that well, smartass?"

"Because I love you."

There was utter silence.

v "Wh-what?" Randal stuttered.

"I KNOW you because I LOVE you," Dante graciously repeated slowly, as if Randal was being a complete idiot for not understanding.

Randal's lips crooked a little, and they continued to raise bit by bit until he had quite the hysterical looking smile splitting his face. His eyes squeezed shut and he chuckled.

"Wh . . . what?" Dante inquired, baffled.

"Fuck, Dante, we are . . . we are so screwed." He opened his eyes and stared directly into the other man's eyes. "You realize that, don't you?"

Nothing was becoming any clearer to the poor store clerk. "What do you mean?"

"Because I love you, too, Dante!" he laughed. In an abrupt movement he had pulled Dante close, repeating in his ear, "I love you, I love you, I love you." Just as he had always wanted.

"But, I . . ." Dante began, confused.

v "Sh," he hissed, staring into Dante's eyes again, their noses touching. "Just say it again."

"What?"

"What I said."

"I love you?"

"Yes," he breathed.

Dante smiled, realization striking him. "I love you, Randal," he stated loudly.

The hysterical look left Randal's face, replaced by a genuinely ecstatic smiled. "Thank you, Dante."

"S'all right," he murmured, returning Randal's tight hug. "Love," he whispered.

"Hey, I know of a place to go," he reiterated after a few seconds of silence.

"The 'special' place?" Dante asked, irritated.

"No--"

"Oh! So you HAD been suggesting the strip joint before!"

"Yes, I was," he stated matter-of-factly, but he moved on. "But, no, I was paid yesterday . . . and I know how to spend it." He paused and inched closer, lips barely touching. "On you, love."

"That sounds corny, but I'm intrigued."

Randal quickly smooched him. "C'mon--wait. Do you happen to work tomorrow?"

"Yes . . ."

"You're calling in some sick days, 'coz we're gonna have some fun." He held up the car keys and jangled them, pulling Dante forward. "Let's go."

The end.