He walked back to his room in a killer good mood, feeling more like a nice guy than an "other." It had been two days since he found out that Chris was Thompson and Chris found out that Howie was Rico, and there had been no visible damage. Things continued as usual, except Howie started flossing his teeth and tucking in his shirts. The only time the subject was broached was when Chris was arranging his hair in front of the mirror and mentioned that "The Wealthy Barber" sounded like a musical.

Howie walked into his room to find Chris at his desk, looking out the window like he'd meant to study and hadn't actually made it there. "Hey," Howie said, dropping his backpack on the bed.

"Hey. I got you something."

Howie stepped back, puzzled. Chris jumped up and grabbed a paper bag off his bed and handed it to Howie like it had a bow on it.

Howie took the bag timidly, peeking inside of it before he slowly pulled out its contents. It was a figure of a little man with a handlebar mustache, dressed up in Oktoberfest gear. Howie turned it over in his hands and smiled. "Where did you find this?"

"One of those stores that sells everything, from yellow lipstick to fuzzy toilet seat covers." Chris snatched the little man and tapped the round base. "But wait. It gets better." He set the little man in front of the stereo and pushed "play." Howie's tape was still in the spot where Howie had left it, and "We Got It Going On" poured from the speakers. Chris hit a switch on the figure and the little German guy started to shake and bob to the music.

Howie burst into laughter and fell back against the wall. "Oh my God." Chris started laughing just as hard, until both of them could barely breathe, their mouths open but no sound coming out. "That's so great," Howie gasped.

"Isn't it?" Chris stood back and admired his handiwork.

"Man, I'm going to take that wherever I go."

Chris picked up the figure and switched it off. "You'd better. So you have something to remember me by."

"Don't be silly," Howie said. "I'll remember you every time I have to share a bathroom."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "That sounds kinky." He set the little man on Howie's desk and grabbed a plastic bag off the floor. "I got something else."

"What could you possibly have gotten that would top that?"

"You'll see." Chris smiled to himself as he opened a jewel case and extracted a gleaming silver CD. He slid it carefully into the stereo and hit "play," and it took a few seconds for the music to start.

"Is this going to be polka music?"

"No."

Howie recognized the music from the first hit of bass and the little chime of the keyboard. One, two, three. Da da-da, da da-da....

"Oh my God," Howie said quietly.

"Yes! The Thompson Twins have made it to CD."

Howie stood fast, unsure of what to do. Chris did a little circle in the middle of the room and started dancing, arms outstretched, hips moving like he was waltzing. He danced over to Howie and extended his arm. Howie took it timidly, laughing when Chris pulled him and he swung under Chris's arm like old people did when they danced at weddings. They danced around like a couple of divas, Chris going under Howie's arm and then Howie twirling under Chris's. When the vocals started, Chris sang along with them.

"I have a picture, pinned to my wall," Chris belted.

"I don't know the words," Howie protested, but Chris kept singing.

"An image of you and of me and we're laughing and loving it all."

Howie cackled wildly, turning so he and Chris could bump hips. Chris was crazy, but far enough from being a lunatic to be fun just about all the time.

Howie knew the chorus. When it hit, they parted and started grooving around on their own, and Howie belted out the words along with Chris. "Oh, hold me now..."

"Bum bum-bum, bum bum-bum," Chris added.

"Oh, hold my heart...."

And then, in unison, "Stay with me! Let lovin' start, let lovin' start...."

"You're so weird," Howie said, but he was still laughing.

"Not half as weird as you, my man." Chris swung Howie under his arm again, except this time he pulled him back like a boomerang and placed Howie in front of him, Chris's chest pressed against Howie's back. "I'm going to try to dip you," Chris said in Howie's ear. "Are you ready?"

"I think so."

Chris spun Howie out a little and pulled him back so they were chest to chest. His arm locked around Howie's waist and Howie felt himself being tipped backward, fighting the twin urges of letting himself be dipped and keeping his balance. About halfway down Chris seemed to lose his grip, and Howie caught a glimpse of the room upside down before he crashed to the floor. Somewhere in the background the CD skipped.

"Yikes," Chris muttered, stepping over Howie and stopping the music. He stepped back and knelt on the floor. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Howie rubbed his shoulder. "I don't think that's how it's supposed to go."

"Yeah," Chris agreed. "It wouldn't be a very fun dance if it was."

"I think you're better at writing letters."

"It wouldn't surprise me."

Howie looked up at Chris, trying to give him a mock pissed-off look, but he couldn't see Chris's half-concerned, half-amused expression and not laugh. Chris let himself drop until he was sitting cross legged next to Howie.

Their giggles finally subsided and they sighed almost in unison. Howie stretched out his legs and leaned back on his arms. He became acutely aware that Chris was watching him and felt his face flush a little.

"I want to kiss you," Chris said.

"Really?"

"I've been trying to find the right opportunity for two days, and this seems like the best one yet."

Howie knew his face was scarlet. "Really?"

"Stop saying 'really' like it's so unreal that someone would want to kiss you."

Howie smiled a little, finding himself faced with the now-familiar situation of not being able to look Chris in the eyes.

Chris slid closer, putting his finger under Howie's chin like he wanted Howie to turn his head. "I'm going to kiss you," he said. "And I don't care what you say."

Howie looked up timidly, watching Chris's lips move as he spoke. Chris. Kissing. Kissing Chris. He sat up straighter.

"You can try to fight it," Chris said, "but I'm not going to let you, because I want to...."

Howie fell forward and pressed his lips against Chris's, stopping him in mid-sentence. Chris inhaled deeply and put his hand on the back of Howie's neck, pulling him in closer until their mouths opened and they were kissing for real, with tongue and everything. Kissing like they were ending a date, or they'd just said "I do," or like they were boyfriend and girlfriend, except in this case it would be boyfriend and boyfriend. And they were just roomates.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Howie asked. "I mean...have you ever...with a guy...."

"Twice."

Howie pulled back a little. "Really? When?"

"Once with a friend of mine. The other time after one of those pub nights at Willie's."

"You mean where that girl got beat up out back?"

Chris pulled away and sat up straight. "Howie, you really know how to kill a mood."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize."

"Sorry."

Chris narrowed his eyes like he was zoning in on a target. "If you say 'sorry' again, I'm going to kiss you."

Howie smirked. "Sorry."

Chris kissed him again, moving to the tongue part in half the time. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," Howie mumbled into his mouth. Chris growled and crawled over him until Howie was forced to lay on his back. He giggled, still repeating it until Chris's tongue squirmed in his mouth and it was impossible. Chris pulled off his mouth and buried his face in Howie's neck, biting gently on the soft skin there. Howie gasped a little in surprise, feeling Chris's hand move across his hip and under his shirt. He tensed a little, not used the feeling of fingers sliding up his body toward his armpit.

Chris pulled back. "You never have, have you?"

Howie blinked, nearly incoherent now. "Huh?"

"You've never been with a guy."

"Not really. I mean, not that's worth mentioning." He paused. "Is that okay?"

Chris smiled, tracing Howie's lip with the tip of his finger. "Of course it's okay." He replaced his fingertip with his lips and kissed Howie gently. "We don't have to do anything, you know. We can just kiss."

"But we can do more, right?"

"What do you want to do?"

Howie bit his lip. "Everything."

"Everything?" Chris trailed his lips across Howie's neck. "I'm not sure I can do *everything*. That's a pretty tall order."

Howie closed his eyes and tilted his head back. "Then how about as much as possible?"

Chris pretended to think about it. "Oh, okay. But I'm not sure we can do as much as possible on the floor." He climbed to his knees and grabbed Howie's hand, pulling him into a sitting position. "I think as much as possible might require getting on the bed."

"Okay."

Chris walked to Howie's bed. Howie followed him, pausing when Chris did. There was a moment of awkwardness when they looked down at the bed, Howie pondering what they'd end up doing on that bed, on the sheets his mom bought him when he moved out and the quilt his aunt made him. Chris laid down on his side, patting the bed next to him, and Howie sat down and then stretched out next to him. Chris kissed him sweetly and wrapped his arm around him, pulling Howie onto his side so they were facing each other.

Two hours later they were still kissing, mouths aching and Howie's lips feeling tingly and swollen. Hands moved under shirts and hips squirmed occasionally, but otherwise they kissed chastely like teenagers who had just started dating, getting used to the fact that Chris was on the wrong side of the room, kissing Howie instead of asking him what he should wear.

When it got late they grabbed their towels and toothbrushes and headed for the bathroom. They passed the same people as usual, but everything seemed different. Howie felt like they could see the imprints of the kisses on his mouth. That they could see the invisible thread connecting him with his roomate. He looked over at Chris warily. Chris kept walking, business as usual, smiling at the right people and walking in to brush his teeth the way he always did.

When they got back to the room, Chris got in the wrong bed again. Howie snuggled up to him like Chris was his own personal human teddy bear, and he fell asleep to the sound of Chris's steady breathing.