In the haste to get the clothes off, everything ended up in a heap on the floor again. This wasn't the first time it had happened, nor was it the first time the hat and the pen had found themselves together.
The pen was an unremarkable-looking ballpoint with Αναζήτηση etched on the side. It was much more powerful than it appeared, and much older too, though it hadn't always existed in its current form. The hat was a worn New York Yankees baseball cap, a small, plain thing that held secrets of its own.
They lay silently side-by-side on the floor of the the dark room, oblivious to the shenanigans around them, barely touching, unable to bring themselves to move closer.
Suddenly the boy stood up off the bed over them, grabbing his pants so he could leave the room briefly. The motion jarred the pen, causing it to roll inside the hat.
It was equally good for both of them.