Dirty Clothes Are The Sign Of A Dirty Mind

It started with a sock.

Somehow, Marco had managed to convince Jake to help him clean up his room. And while he was amazing at video games and anything having to do with computers – keeping his room clean was not one of his strong suits. Thus, the dirty clothes scattered all over the floor.

Once all the actual trash had been picked up and thrown away, all they were left with were the dirty clothes. Jake had grabbed a basket from the linen closet and they'd proceeded to throw all the laundry they could find into it.

Jake had just finished gathering articles of clothing from under the bed and was heading for the adjacent corner. Marco was searching underneath his desk, which was a surprisingly clean area, and only found one sock.

That sock started it all.

He threw it towards the basket, which was on the bed, but his aim was high and to the left, and it ended up hitting Jake in the head. He whirled around and, spying the sock, decided to retaliate by throwing a balled-up shirt.

Chaos ensued.

Shirts, pants, socks, T-shirts – all were fair game. Even the occasional pair of underwear and one pair of slippers made it into the fray.

Finally they were both on the bed, fighting over the right to throw the lone pillow, and ended up tumbling onto the floor, Jake landing on top of Marco.

Their faces were inches apart, lips so close that they were sharing the same breath. Marco, reckless as always, was the one to initiate the kiss. Jake, never one to back down from a challenge, was the one who deepened it.

It wasn't until they were both lying there, flushed and panting and devoid of their shirts, that they finally paused for breath.

"What is going on?" Marco gasped, staring down at his friend.

"I don't know…but I like it," Jake admitted. "I…like you, Marco."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Marco demanded.

"Why didn't you?" Jake countered, shifting into a sitting position so he could look his best friend in the eye. "Or was this just a case of hormones on your part?"

Marco may not have been the best at reading people, but the hurt Jake was feeling was almost palpable. "No, it wasn't, Jake-o," he said softly. "I just…I thought you wanted Cassie, man; and whenever I even thought about telling you how I felt, another mission came up and one of us would almost die, and I wouldn't want to add to your stress."

"If you only knew how much stress I've been under trying to keep my hands off of you," Jake joked. "Cassie and I are just friends, Marco. There wasn't ever really anything between us other than that. Besides, you were the one who started the whole thing about me liking her," he accused.

"I was?" Marco asked, befuddled. He was still reeling from hearing Jake say that he felt the same way, so Marco felt he should be able to be excused from further attempts at thinking for the near future.

"Yeah, you kept teasing me about it for the first couple of months we hung out together, remember?" Jake reminded his friend.

"Oh…right," Marco said slowly, finally recalling the incidents in question. A light bulb dinged and he shot straight up. "Wait, so you mean to tell me that all this time we've had the hots for each other and didn't know it?"

Jake chuckled; the wild-eyed expression Marco was wearing made him look exceptionally sexy. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Well then…we have lots of time to make up for, don't you think?" Marco asked, attempting a sultry smile as he started undoing Jake's jeans.

"Uh…I could get behind that," Jake agreed, before he found himself being fiercely kissed again. His last muzzy thought before he descended into the realm of the 'kissed stupid' was, I'll have to help Marco clean up his room more often.