Black And White

Forty Two

"Mitchie, honey, hand me my wallet. Seriously."

Mitch just stuck his tongue out at him, holding out his own wallet.

Scott stared at his tongue. "Don't offer that to me unless you plan to do something with it."

Mitch blushed a little. "Just take my wallet, dummy."

Scott refused, and when he reached the payment window, he pulled a credit card out of his back pocket. "Here." He handed it to the worker.

Mitch gasped. "No fair. Why do you have so many cards?"

"This one's for emergencies or some shit."

"You think this qualifies as an emergency?"

"Well yeah. Someone stole my wallet, Mitchie."

Mitch scoffed at him, just as the worker allowed Scott to type in his code before handing his card back.

Scott passed it to Mitch. "Put this in my wallet please, Thief."

"Wow you know how to sweet talk a boy." Mitch responded monotonously, sliding the card into Scott's wallet.

"I get that a lot."

Mitch rolled his eyes, and then put the wallet back in his own pocket. "I bet you do."

Scott quickly accepted the two cones of ice cream, passing the bigger one to Mitch.

Mitch eyed him as they drove away, having noticed how big the cone was that he'd gotten. "Are you trying to say something?"

"What?"

Mitch didn't respond to him until Scott had parked the car somewhere for them to eat.

Scott turned to him again. "What?"

"Gave me the bigger cone."

"Yeah...  So?"

Mitch shook his head quickly. "Nevermind. I was trying to make a joke but you don't think it's funny."

"Oh you think I'm telling you that you give better blowies?"

"God, why do you call it that?"

"Am I making you uncomfortable? Do I need to show you what a blowie is?"

Mitch subconsciously crossed his legs. "No thank you."

Scott made direct eye contact as he slowly licked his ice cream. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Put your tongue back in your face."

Scott chuckled at him. "Yes, Ma'am."

Mitch looked down at his lap, and was quiet for a moment as he fiddled with the seams on his pants. "Scottie?"

"Yes, Cutie?"

"I... I only get mad about you spending money because I feel bad... But I really really am grateful for it, and I think it's really sweet of you. And.. You drive me around and never complain about gas money, and.. You let me stay at your house, and..."

"Oh, Mitch, you don't have to--" Scott stopped himself, placing a hand on Mitch's thigh. "You don't have to tell me that. I know."

"I just want to be sure. Because.. I'm really grateful for you, and... You're my best friend."

"Babe, where's all this coming from? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I swear, it's nothing. Just... All this arguing over money..."

"We're not arguing. Just... I have more money than I know what to do with. And of course when you and I are older, I'll get us a house and a cat and anything else you want. But for now... Nothing would make me more happy than to buy you anything and everything you want."

"That just seems unfair. Like.. I'm taking advantage of you... I don't know. Let's not talk about it. We're too young to be arguing about money."

Scott nodded quickly. "You're right. Eat your ice cream, honey. I don't feel like you're taking advantage at all. I offer, every time."

Mitch nodded once. "Thank you."

Scott leaned toward him. "Come here. Kiss and make up."

Mitch leaned over to kiss him, and then gasped. "Your lips are cold."

Scott moved to press his lips against his ice cream, and then grabbed Mitch by the back of the neck to kiss him.

Mitch squeaked, but couldn't push himself away from him. "Scott!"

Scott captured his lips and wouldn't let go. "Nuh uh."

Mitch pushed on his chest, until Scott moved away with a laugh. Mitch pouted at him. "Jerk."

"You wanna fight?"

"You looking to get beat?" Mitch teased.

"We'll see about that. Finish your ice cream, Grassi."

*

Scott got out of the car to throw away their collective garbage, and when he walked back toward his truck, Mitch had gotten out of the car and was standing in some kind of fighting stance.

Scott stopped walking when he was a few feet from the car. "You're serious?"

He nodded once. "Unless you're afraid? Are you backing out, Hoying?"

"Afraid isn't even in my vocabulary."

"Is that because you can't spell it?"

Scott squinted at him a little. "Oh, you're going down, Twink."

"Give me your best shot."

Scott bent a little, holding his hands up in the same way Mitch was, but took off immediately, running at Mitch to grab him around the waist.

When Scott lifted him a little, Mitch squeaked, grabbing Scott's arms with his hands. "Scott, oh my God!"

Scott then tossed Mitch over his shoulder. "White flag?"

"No!" Mitch shouted, hitting Scott's back a few times, laughing the whole time.

Scott returned the favor by smacking Mitch's ass a few times. "You wanna play that game?"

Mitch giggled loudly. "Okay fine! You win! Put me down!"

"Wait, how does me winning make you the boss of me?"

"The boss--? What are you, five? Scott, put me down!"

"I won, so I'm in charge."

"Fine. You're in charge."

Scott gave Mitch's ass one last smack, before gently setting his feet on the ground , and then reaching out to help fix Mitch's shirt for him.

Mitch watched him, feeling his fingers slightly graze over his stomach. "Thanks."

Scott only nodded, leaning down to kiss Mitch quickly, before opening his door for him.

Mitch stepped up into the truck, and waved Scott over to stand between his legs. "So... Since you won, and are obviously the 'boss'... I think I remember where we left those handcuffs from the last time I was over."

Scott smirked slowly. "Oh, you do? I wonder what we should do with those?"

Mitch slid his hands slowly down Scott's biceps. "Well... You're the boss. You can do anything you want to me."

"Sounds promising."

"Sounds like we need to hurry up and get home."

*