Page 326 of Untouchable

“Someone’s gotta be the eye candy,” Parker says. “See, Gil? You got it turned around. Harp is the one who’s a gold digger.”

Gil’s mouth falls open for a moment, and he glances over at Parker.

“Hey, no slacking,” Parker says, taking out another zombie. Gil bursts out laughing and returns his focus to the game.

“Shit—okay, wait, what the fuck is that zombie, it’s got an axe—”

Parker and Gil get wrapped up in the game once more, trash talking as they pick off zombies and rats one by one. This level is noticeably harder than the last, but they beat it with ease.

“I’ll get us another pitcher,” Gil says, disappearing off to the bar.

Parker sidles up to Harp, who’s still sitting on the high stool at the table, and positions himself between Harp’s legs, looping his arms around Harp’s neck.

“Hope we didn’t hurt your feelings,” Parker says, giving Harp a chaste kiss on the lips.

Harp puts his hands on Parker's hips lightly.

"Not at all," Harp says. "I love that you're confident enough to be yourself with him. I'll happily be the butt of whatever joke you want if it means the two of you are actually having fun."

“I am having fun,” Parker says, grinning. “I think I kind of… get it now. Him. I mean, he’s like you. Weird sense of humor, totally one-track mind sometimes when it’s something either of you really love. He’s like this weird not-as-hot hipster version of you.”

“I’m glad things are… better,” Harp said, taking Parker’s hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I never want you to feel like—”

“Harp,” Parker says, cutting him off gently. “I know. And I don’t. Last time, we were both super anxious. We weren’t being… well, we weren’t being our normal selves. It’s okay. It was a fucked up evening. But this… this is good. This isn’t fucked up. The only bad thing is that now I have to deal with the fact that I’m dating someone who’s embarrassingly terrible at video games.”

* * *

Parker and Gildo end up finishing the game—and the second pitcher—in about an hour.

Harp keeps the glasses full and cheers for them. This is everything he wanted at Christmas but didn't get. Their humor is compatible, now that they're both able to be themselves with no other agenda in play.

They move on—after Harp has taken enough pictures of them posing with their score—to a racing game and a third pitcher.

Normally Harp would be cautioning both of them to slow down, lest they get sick, but at this point, Harp refuses to do anything to jinx this.

Instead, he orders them a variety of disgusting appetizers to try and at least make sure they're fed.

* * *

“Okay,Gil, we gotta do this one next,” Parker says around a mouthful of jalapeño popper. He’s thoroughly drunk by now, but he’s managed to keep himself from climbing all over Harp by turning his complete focus over to trying to get their names on the high score board of each game in the arcade. Parker turns around, striking a dramatic pose. “Harp, are you ready to see the sexiest goddamn thing in your life?”

Harp looks alarmed.

“I’m not sure,” he says. “Am I?”

“No,” Parker says. “You’re not.”

“Let’s do this shit,” Gil says, taking an onion ring with him as he and Parker step onto the garishly-lit blue and pink Dance Dance Revolution mats. Parker inserts the quarters and looks at Gil seriously.

“Gil, I need you to be honest with me,” he says. “Can you handle playing on Normal difficulty? Or am I going to have to put the training wheels on?”

Gil frowns and cracks his knuckles.

“Set it to Advanced.”

Parker stands up, regarding Gil.

“You’ve got nothing to prove—”

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