Disclaimer: They're not mine, I know.

Info: Takes place sometime after the episode in which Spinner accuses Marco of having a "man crush".

Rating: PG-13.

Warnings: Language, theme. Come on. Gay boys!

Pairings: Spinner/Paige and Dylan/Marco for sake of plot movement, main focus is on Spinner/Marco.

Feedback: Would be grand.


Friday, 5:18p -- Marco's house.

Okay. It's official. Spinner hates life. There must be a reason as to why the hell he is sitting in this room watching a herd of loud, giggling girls, one of which being his damn girlfriend, give fashion advice to one of his best friends. Could this possibly be real? Spinner wonders. Am I dead? Am I in hell? He [barely] suppresses a whimper, shifts in his seat on Marco's bed next to Ellie. His hands are crazed, feeling around for something, anything, with which to kill himself. He reaches over Ellie to grab at Marco's heavy-looking vintage alarm clock. She shoves his hand away -- away from sweet release from this dismal torture -- and punches him hard in the arm. "Get the fuck off me," she snaps. "Sorry, Ellie." Spinner's spirit weeps.

"Oh, my God. That outfit... is it. Oh, hun." Spinner glances up as Paige clasps her hands, cocks her head to one side and smiles. She is about to burst with pride. Marco strikes a pose, and Spinner has to admit, the black FCUK tee-shirt certainly does look rather nice on him, especially under the red suede blazer. And the fedora looks damn sassy [Sassy?! Spinner is disgusted with himself.], and those jeans certainly do make the most of Marco's assets. Oh, fuck. The blood rushes up Spinner's neck, reddens his face. Paige is oblivious.

"Oh, hun. I would tell you what Dylan is going to do when he sees you, but… none of you really need to hear that, so, I won't." Laughter. Spinner grimaces. Oh, the fabulous Dylan. Is there anything Dylan can't do? Paige shoots him a look. He sighs. Ashley smiles, shakes her head. "Marco, you really do look great. Maybe you can give Spin some tips." She nudges him. More laughter. "Ahahaha. How about not?" Is this the best he can come up with? Ugh. Today is just a bad day.

Friday, 11:22p -- Michalchuk residence.

Spinner sits on the couch, arm draped around Paige. Her head rests on his chest. They had made a valiant attempt to watch Au Revoir, Les Enfants [one of Marco's favorites] -- Paige ended up asleep, he ended up confused as to who was Jewish and who wasn't. Why the hell did they even rent this? Spinner sighs, checks the clock. Where the hell is Dylan? Isn't he done with Marco yet? This sucks.

Spinner looks down at Paige, smoothes her hair, looks up. Catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror that hangs behind the TV, studies it with a newly critical eye. Maybe his hair is a little last year. He glances down at his shoes. Hmm. Basketball sneakers really don't go with much. Certainly not his jeans. He shudders to think what they might smell like.

But so what? Who the fuck cares, anyway? It's not like Dylan always has perfect hair -- well, actually. Now that Spinner thinks about it, Dylan's blond curls do look nice. Well, whatever. Dylan's shoes... are... really nice Kenneth Coles. Well. Isn't Dylan Mr. Carpetmunching Perfect, then.

Spinner cringes as soon as "carpet munching" is processed, then sighs, rubs the back of his neck with his free hand.

This sucks.

Spinner glances down at Paige again. If Paige is so okay with all this, he should be, too. Just… whatever. Another glance at the clock. Spinner sighs, lifts Paige up and carries her to her bedroom. Lays her on the bed and spreads a blanket out over her. Kisses her forehead.

Walks back downstairs. Looks at the clock. Where the hell is Dylan, and what the fuck is he doing to Marco?


Marco kisses Spinner. His hand travels down his cheek, traces his neck, rests on his shoulder… and Marco begins to shake him. Hard.

Spinner is jolted awake, opens his eyes to: "Spinner?" Dylan grins. "You waited up? Where's Paige?"

Spinner bolts upright. "She's…=... asleep. I put her to bed." His eyebrows furrow. "Did you just get in?"

Dylan chuckles a little. "Yeah. Listen, you didn't have to wait up -- I'm sorry it's so late, though."

Spinner stares at Dylan. Deliberately, "So. How... was it?"

Dylan takes off his jacket, hangs it up. "Oh, you know." His blue eyes twinkle. Spinner very much would like to blind him. "Action-packed." And he winks.

Speechless. Until... "I gotta go. Later." Gets up, grabs his jacket.

Spinner lets himself out of the house, rubs furiously at his eyes. Fine, Marco. Fuck you, too.