let's talk about making love

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-by istajmaal on ao3

If Troye were in his right mind, he would have asked why Jedidiah had the number of a gay sex line programmed into his phone in the first place, but given that he's pissed off his head and has been sexually frustrated by couples grinding in front of him for the past three hours (not to mention the past seventeen years), asking questions is pretty much the last thing on his mind when a soft voice says into his ear are your jeans getting tight for me?

It's Jedidiah's fault, as always. "You need to get laid."

"Youuuuu," Troye says, knitting his eyebrows together and poking Jedidiah repeatedly between the eyes, "need to mind your own business, mister."

"You've been out for, what, six months?" Jedidiah continues unabated. "And you haven't even hooked up with a guy."

"I'm still reeling from your rejection." Troye stirs the dregs of his drink around with his little pink umbrella. The cup used to be a pretty green, now it's almost empty. Troye pouts.

Jedidiah finishes off his beer and throws the can over his shoulder. "You offering yourself up for a threesome with me and my boyfriend doesn't count as putting yourself out there."

That's not exactly fair, since Troye did also give Jedidiah a celebratory coming-out blowjob in the school toilets, but that's not something Jedidiah likes to bring up when Adam is milling around nearby. "You know, we used to be friends." Troye picks the umbrella out of his drink and sticks it behind his ear. "Friends don't off and get fit older boyfriends without even telling their friends they're bi and then not share those fit boyfriends."

"Was that written down in our year three friendship code?" Jedidiah says as he scans the crowd. "Because otherwise, I can't recognize that rule. Oi, Adam!"

Jedidiah's (extremely fit, Troye thinks glumly) boyfriend makes his way through the crowd of gyrating bodies (most of which Troye has known since before they hit puberty) to the little loveseat in the corner that Troye and Jedidiah have sprawled themselves over. "'Sup, loves?" Adam sits on the arm of the couch and kisses Jedidiah's temple before hooking his foot around Jedidiah's. Troye thinks he might vomit up his green drink.

Jedidiah grins up at Adam softly and gives him an awkward one-armed hug that mostly ends up with him shoving his face into Adam's abs. "Give me my phone back," Jedidiah says, making grabby hands.

Adam seems distressingly sober as he looks down on Troye and Jedidiah with a touch of paternalism. "Do you promise not to call Barbara like last time?"

"Last time I was still heartbroken." Jedidiah pinches Adam's nipple and the older boy winces. "Now I have you, don't I?"

"You do," Adam concedes, ducking his face down to hide his grin as he roots around in his pocket for Jedidiah's phone. (Troye sees his grin anyway. Vomiting keeps seeming like a better and better option.) "What do you need it for, anyway?"

"Troye needs a certain number I have saved." Jedidiah waggles his eyebrows up at Adam.

"What—oh." Adam suddenly starts smiling wickedly and Troye wishes he would go back to fawning over Jedidiah from across the room at crowded parties like this, because this smile can't mean anything good. Troye groans dramatically and throws his forearm over his face. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Jedidiah?"

"I've never had a better idea in my life." Jedidiah pats Troye's knee. "Just needs to get over his shyness, then our Troye will be out blowing guys in the toilets before we know it."

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