No Homo

Chapter 5 - Show Me

"The queen, you said?" Minho snorted, earning him a pointed glare from the disgruntled blond as Thomas snickered and bawled his hand into a fist, holding it up for Minho to lightly bump his knuckles against before he continued on to the table. Minho didn't even bother watching this time, not a doubt in his mind that he already knew the outcome of the shot.

The sound of plastic hitting wooden flooring and rolling away soon met his ears, followed by the familiar string of curses signature to Thomas alone, confirming his suspicions as he sighed resolutely before pulling himself over to the table. He thumped a now rather flustered Thomas on the back reassuringly, mumbling a quiet "I got it," in assurance before plucking another ball from the pile and moving to prepare the shot. His dark eyes fixed intently on a cup in the center of the third row and he moved his wrist forward experimentally a few times, getting a feel for the movement before finally pulling back to actually release the ball.

"Hey, what's Tommy's ass feel like?" Newt suddenly popped up directly beside the boy, appearing out of thin air and poking his head into his line of sight, scruffy blond hair flinging wildly about as he whispered the question. Minho jerked back, his grip on the small ball all but forgotten as he recoiled from his friend, the item falling pathetically to the ground as he spluttered helplessly for a response.

"Damn! I was just kidding! A response like that? Could it be that you actually know?" Newt teased, giggling uncontrollably as he scrambled back into Alby to avoid the swing Minho took at him, .

"That's cheating!" Thomas yelped angrily, looking absolutely horrified, his mole speckled cheeks aflame and his honey eyes blown so wide Minho was legitimately concerned they might actually pop out of his head.

"Baseketball* rules!" Alby countered with a smirk, shoving Newt behind him as protection from a fuming Minho still intent on choking the blond.

It went on like this for some time. Newt made a few shots after he'd given up his royal title and actually spent some time lining up his throws. Alby made the majority of the shots he took, though he only ever attempted sinking keeping them tied as Minho made virtually every shot he took, save the ones Newt was able to fluster him into missing. The boy practically always bounced his balls in, quickly progressing them toward the end of the game and it looked like victory could be a possibility, even with his inept teammate, but it was going to be close. Especially considering the fact that Thomas had failed to get a single ball in a cup the whole game and was only becoming increasingly tipsy as time passed.

"I want to puke, Minho." Thomas informed his friend sullenly as the older boy guided him to the table, arm wrapped around his lower back and the other gripping his shoulder to provide some sort of stability as he placed a ball into his hand, folding the brunette's fingers around the item and squeezing his hand until he was sure he would hold onto it.

"I know, Thomas, I know. But if you can get this one ball to go into that cup over there," Minho began, pausing to point out the item in question - It was the only cup on the board but he still wasn't sure Thomas was going to see it without help considering his current state. "Then we win."

"I wanna win." Thomas informed him, looking determinedly at the cup, squinting his eyes slightly as if he was having trouble figuring out its exact location.

"I know, Tommy." The Korean boy soothed, trying to keep his jitters to a minimum. Victory was so close, he could almost taste it (it tasted like cheap booze that sat out a little too long) but with this final shot relying on Thomas, things were far from promising. The dark haired teen moved back, trying to let the other male compose his final shot, their last chance hanging on by a paper thin thread but suddenly he was caught by the wrist