Page 325 of Untouchable

"Well, c'mon man," he says, as if Parker is being ridiculous to even question it. "We've got quarters to burn!"

Parker and Harp exchange a look that can only be described as well I’ll be damned. Parker bounds over to the game, neatly hipchecking Harp out of the way.

“Love ya,” he says, kissing Harp on the cheek as he plucks the gun out of his hands. “But, like, you really suck—oh shit it’s starting—”

Parker aims and takes the closest zombie out with one shot. Gil cheers loudly.

“That’s how it’s done. Watch and learn, bro.

Harp takes a seat and watches as Parker and Gil easily clear the level, moving through the waves of slow-moving zombies and less dangerous rats with ease.

"The first boss is coming," Gil says tensely to Parker. "You ready?"

"Absolutely," Parker says. He takes a real shooter's stance and raises his controller, already aiming.

Parker had never been allowed to have video games at home, but he’d spent the entire summer before freshman year of high school in an arcade not dissimilar to this one, killing zombies or racing cars or hunting ducks with Kenny, his best friend from middle school. They’d grown apart almost instantly once high school had started—Parker was folded into the jocks because he was on the soccer team, and Kenny started hanging out with a group of seniors that spent most school periods smoking weed in a van in the parking lot. But Parker is surprised to find he still has the muscle memory from those games, and he smiles to himself, remembering long afternoons in dimly lit spaces, wired on too much soda and leaping about madly trying to beat the final level of Space Quest 4000.

“Damn, you’re actually pretty good at this,” Gil says.

“Better than you,” Parker says quickly, and Harp bursts out laughing. Gil smiles and nods.

“Touché,” he says. “Just wait ’til we’re playing something where we’re not on the same team. I’m going to destroy your ass.”

“That’s Harp’s job, actually,” Parker says, deadpan, as he neatly takes out the closest zombie.

* * *

"Jesus, Parker," Harp says. He's just glad Gil isn't facing him at this moment.

Gil's laughing so hard that his character dies and he has to fumble for quarters to keep playing.

Harp is astonished that the two of them are actually having fun—although maybe he shouldn't be. Harp has been working hard in the months since Gil's last visit to smooth things over among the three of them—and even if Parker hasn't had direct contact with Gil, Harp knows his brother has warmed to his boyfriend over time.

Gil had only just recently confessed that he was utterly charmed by Parker's recounting, at Christmas, of the way that the two of them had saved a litter of kittens from a coyote—calling it "so storybook cute that I just circle around and hate you both." It's about as close as Gil was willing to get to a compliment at that point.

Harp, too, has had work to do in mending things with Gil and setting boundaries. He's never had to take his brother so seriously before, but maybe it's not a bad thing. Maybe the work all three of them have done is worth it.

Parker delivers the final shot to the boss zombie and Gil cheers as the game transitions to another cutscene.

* * *

“Beer me,”Parker demands, sticking his hand back towards Harp without looking. Harp pretends to grumble, but a moment later he’s pressing a freshly filled pint glass into Parker’s hand. Parker takes a long draw from it, downing half of it before the cutscene ends. He sets the glass aside and raises his gun, dramatically rolling his shoulders and settling in. “Let’s fuck some level two zombies up.”

"See Gil? I'd be fine in the apocalypse," Harp says, laughing.

"Yeah, I definitely take back what I said before about not coming to Storm Mountain," Gil says as he skips the cutscene with no argument from Parker. "Obviously Parker and I are going to have to protect you."

“Harp can figure out other ways to earn his keep,” Parker says, taking aim and immediately obliterating two zombies with one shot. “There we go. Watch and fuckin’ learn—Anyway, Harp, you can be, like, our cook or something. Or like, some kind of post apocalyptic poolboy. You can take care of the homestead while Gil and I are off protecting the perimeter.”

“Good idea,” Gil says solemnly. “We’ll need someone to hold down the fort while we’re off doing all the hard work.”

Parker’s definitely feeling tipsy by now, but unlike the last time he was with Gil, he doesn’t feel a manic kind of anxiety buzzing down his spine. He feels loose and relaxed, and he’s not quite so worried, suddenly, about filtering himself in front of Gil.

“Hey—” Harp whines. “You guys aren’t supposed to be ganging up on me—”

“Well, you should have thought of that before you decided to suck so hard at Zombies, Die! then,” Parker quips.

"Whatever," Harp says, pretending to be dejected. "You both know I'm gonna be valuable as hell during the end times."

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