FicWad

Nate was seriously ready to throw 'Dumbledore' at the motherfucking wall.

The teen glared at Ben's laptop, the 'innocent' device displaying a message that made Nathan's blood boil. Storm clouds rolled in his eyes, the usually warm chocolate-brown turning into cold orbs of amber-and-brown fire.

"Ah, Ben!~ If only you were straight... ;)"

Oh, how Nathan loathed that review. It was an enemy that held the key to all of his worst nightmares, and such a thing was not allowed to exist. He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his foot against the carpeted floor of his bedroom.

The two boys were supposed to be preparing for a French exam, but that plan flew out the window when Ben brought his laptop out to search for verb conjugations. FicWad immediately came up, left open from the night before, and... well... they got a little distracted. To be fair, that website is definitely the Devil cleverly disguised as gay smut and fluff.

Nathan glared at the screen again, shaking some of his hair into his eyes in order to block the review left by his newly-declared nemesis. If it weren't for the fact that Ben treated the laptop like his own child, Nate would've 'accidentally' opened a can of Coke and poured it into the hard-drive. Of course, that wouldn't take the review off the internet, but it's the thought that counts.

Now, Nate wasn't usually this much of an asshole toward technology. It was just... GAH! How the fuck was he supposed to react to the dreaded winky face?! THAT FACE WAS INVENTED TO PISS HIM OFF, AND HE KNEW IT.

He snarled at the screen. Then, once he was certain that the laptop had gotten the message, Nate peered out of his bedroom door and down the hallway. Said hallway led to a set of stairs, and then the kitchen: where Ben was currently throwing together some bacon sandwiches so they didn't need to 'study' on an empty stomach.

Nathan slouched back into his seat, returning to his stare-down with Ben's computer. "You hear that?" he whispered, his tone dark enough to have Dracula running for a nightlight. "He's making sandwiches. Because he's a fucking angel. MY. GODDAMN. ANGEL!"

The laptop beeped, obviously so terrified that its battery juice was running down its fictional leg. Feeling proud of himself for putting up such an impressive attack, Nathan continued with his rant.

"Bacon sandwiches, you glorified calculator. BACON. And none for you." The boy giggled, showing off a set of slightly-sharp teeth. "Mine. My sandwiches. My pretty boy. My GAY, FLAMING HOMOSEXUAL-"

"I hate to admit it, but you might be crazier than I am."

Nate froze, his face twisting out of a demon snarl and into one of pure shock. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned his head.

Propped against the navy blue of his wall, one eyebrow raised and his thin arms crossed over his chest, was none other than Ben Greenier.

"The bacon you had in the fridge was starting to grow hair thicker than a certain Mr. Ray Toro Ortiz's, so I threw it out," Ben continued, fixing Nathan in his signature green stare. "I just saved both our asses from a horrible fate. Now, please explain to me why my bacon-cooking mojo was just murdered by my boyfriend yelling at an inanimate object."

Nathan didn't know where to look. His gaze travelled from Ben to the computer at a speed fast enough to put the Road Runner to shame. "Uh... I can explain?"

Ben raised his eyebrows, his eyes wide and inviting behind his glasses. "Please, do."

Nate finally settled on the picture hanging behind Ben's head, deciding that random splotches of colour were much less awkward to talk to. "Well... you got a review," he told the picture. The big yellow blotch near the center seemed to nod, encouraging him to continue. "Someone said something... and I didn't like it... so I got a little upset."

There was a sigh, and suddenly Nate found himself staring right into the green fabric of Ben's shirt. A hand went under his chin, and then a pair of blazing green irises were burning into his skull. "'My gay, flaming homosexual...? What?" Ben demanded, keeping a firm hold on Nate's jaw.

The answer came as a strangled gasp, since Nate was currently in a position that made his neck feel like a rolled-up tube of toothpaste. "My gay, flaming homosexual Banjo," he said sheepishly.

Ben rolled his eyes, letting go of Nate's chin and taking a seat in the younger boy's lap. Once comfortable, he adjusted his glasses and peered intently at the review.
His reaction was instant.

Peals of high-pitched laughter erupted from the tiny boy, almost sending him tumbling off of Nate's lap. Nathan made a wild grab for him, pulling him close to his chest until Ben's body stopped shaking. Nate just stared at him, not seeing the humor in such a tense and dramatic moment between himself and the internet. Ben, however, seemed to find the situation hilarious.

"Oh my- hahaha!" Ben giggled, his voice actually cracking from the lung-bursting laughter that was tearing out of his throat. "Oh. MY GOD!"

"What?" Nathan demanded, giving the laptop another secret glare. "Are you on crack?"
Ben's face was bright red, and if Nate didn't know any better, he would've assumed that the teen was having a major heart attack. "You- were you jealous?!"

Nate spluttered, his words getting tangled on his tongue as he tried to defend himself. His speech of how jealousy was for the weak, and at how the review was obviously a mind bomb that had been cunningly hidden by the winky face. I mean, everybody knows that the winky face was pretty much the sign of pure evil, right? Instead of a monologue fit for the closing of an episode of Dawson's Creek, however, Nate got a jumbled mess of vowels and words that he was pretty sure didn't exist in any language.

... Well, maybe Swedish. That language has some serious issues.

So, obviously, his plan to redeem himself completely backfired. When Ben only started to laugh harder, Nate buried his face in the crook of the other boy's neck and waited for his cheeks to stop burning. Eventually, Ben hiccupped himself to a stop, and leaned back against Nate's chest.

"I think it's cute," Ben said finally, reaching back to tug on one of Nathan's dark locks. "Getting all defensive over some twelve-year-old girl on the internet. Makes me feel special."

Nathan exhaled into Ben's shirt, still wishing the Earth would open up and swallow him whole. When nothing happened, he cursed whatever God was chilling up in the clouds at the time and mumbled: "You are special."

He could almost hear Ben's lips curving into a smile. "If you say so. But that's no reason to threaten Dumbledore."

Nate huffed again, reaching out blindly to stop Ben's hand from patting the laptop like some sort of twisted robot puppy. "He asked for it," the boy insisted. "He was the messenger, and we all know what happens to the messenger."

Ben paused for a second. "I don't seem to remember anything about yelling at the messenger about my sexual orientation. Billy Talent must have their lyrics mixed up."

There was a second of complete silence, and then Nate finally removed his face from Ben's neck. He was met with the image of Ben's profile turned toward him, the only visible eye hidden partially by the dark brown locks of Ben's bangs. "You're kind of an asshole, aren't you?" Nathan said, grinning.

Ben's smile widened, the edges of his teeth becoming visible. "Don't you know it."
The next morning, they both failed their French exams. But, if the dark bruises under Ben's jaw had anything to say for it, both boys had no regrets.