It was late at night, probably past midnight, when Jack got home, collapsing on the bed.
David, sitting at his desk, didn’t look up from his work.
“Davey,” Jack whined, noisily flipping onto his stomach.
David sighed. He stopped writing but he didn’t look at his boyfriend.
“Davey, why are people so pretty?”
“I don’t know, Jacky. Why are people so pretty?”
Jack laughed, though it came out as more of a snort. “I don’t know! Dave, I’m suffering here! Every person I meet is just so damn pretty—except the Delanceys.”
“Well, have you tried getting to know the pretty people?” Dave turned a bit to look at Jack, sprawled out on the bed.
“Aw, what’s the point? It’s not like they’re gonna like me anyway.”
“You’re a dumbass.”
Jack’s face reddened. “It’s true!”
“Katherine likes you.”
“Kath doesn’t count,” Jack said, but it was clear from his tone that he knew he wouldn’t be winning this argument.
Dave stood up. “Jack, I’m not going to pretend like I’ve experienced what you’re talking about, but you need to be confident. Make friends with the people you like, get to know them—they might like you back, and even if they don’t, at least you’ll know, and you’ll still be friends with them.”
Jack was silent for a moment before groaning. “Dammit, Dave. Why do you have to be so smart?”
“To make up for you being so dumb.” He grinned and leaned over the bed. “Dumbass.”
“Love you too, babe.”
They both burst into giggles. David sat down on the bed, careful to steer clear of Jack’s chaotic motion range.
“So, do you want to tell me about the pretty person you met today?”
Jack grinned back and let David pull him into a seated position. “Obviously.”
Davey didn’t let go of Jack’s hand. “What’s their name?”