It starts because Marshy's drunk his way through every bar in Boston and is looking to expand his territory. "Dude, dude," he says when he calls PK, "just take a day off. It'll be awesome."

"I can't really take a day off," PK says. He's not with Gary anymore but he still has to keep a strict schedule.

"What if I came on a Sunday? Come on, please?"

PK knows that tone of voice. Marshy's totally not going to let this go until he's at PK's, eating his food and insulting his porn collection. PK loves Marshy. He's awesome. "Okay, sure," he finds himself saying. "Why not."

"Awesome. Fuck yeah. So I'll get there Saturday night, and then leave Monday. This Saturday, actually."

It's kind of short notice, but it's not like PK's going to clean for the guy. "Cool. I have to go, Carey's going to show me some roping today."

Marshy pauses. "Is that, like...dirty?"

"No way, man." He doesn't think, anyway. "I'll talk to you later. Just call me when you get in Saturday."

Marshy doesn't call. He does text PK at seven Saturday night, though. "N ur city u have gr8 bars dont wait up".

PK rolls his eyes. It's not like he'd salt Marshy's game if they went out together. Marshy can be kind of weird, though, so PK just tucks his phone away and goes back to watching Animal Planet.

It's almost midnight when there's a knock on his door. When PK answers it, Marshy stumbles in, slumping against PK. "Dude," he says, "dude. My dick. Dude. My dick."

"Uh huh," PK says. "You know, if you'd taken me out with you I'd probably agree."

Marshy squints up at him blearily. "Get on it."

"What?"

"My dick, dude. Get all up on this." He does a hip shimmy that almost knocks PK's framed picture of his mom off the table in the hall.

"Whoa, buddy. Not tonight. Come on, let's get you some water."

"I danced all up on some ladies earlier, you shouldn't turn me down." Marshy does the hip shimmy again. "You know you want some of this."

"We'll go out drinking tomorrow," PK says. He's way less into this when he's sober.

Well, okay. Marshy's not actually wearing a shirt, and PK's still into it. To look at, at least.

"You're way less fun than Segsy," Marshy says. "Segsy sucks me off all the time. Hey, hey, PK, did I tell you Segsy's my pal?"

"Go out to the living room," PK says.

This is probably the first time ever PK's actually been the responsible one. He gets Marshy some water and some aspirin, and then a blanket and a pillow. By then Marshy's taken his pants off. He keeps threatening to jerk off and jizz on PK's couch if PK won't suck him off, but then when he actually goes to do it he just kind of pokes his dick a few times before figuring out he's really not hard, and then takes another sip of water. When PK's sure he's not going to die of alcohol poisoning, he goes upstairs, laughing a little to himself.

It's always good to have Marshy in town.

The next morning, as he's getting some coffee, PK hears dying animal noises coming from the living room.

Marshy's got a hand stuck out in a grabbing motion. PK sticks his coffee in Marshy's hand, then goes to get him some more aspirin. Marshy sits up and squints at him as he drinks. "Um, good morning."

PK really hopes they don't have to talk about whatever's bugging Marshy. He's just going to pretend this is really normal. "Good morning."

"Shitty morning," Marshy says, wincing. "I'm, uh, I'm gonna go back to sleep."

"Cool," PK says. "I'll be upstairs."

Marshy nods and flops back down.

He comes upstairs three hours later and showers. PK's messing around on the internet and thinking about pranking Hal. The pro is that Hal makes hilarious faces when his socks are glued to his shoes. The cons are that Hal is scary.

It's not just one con, because Hal is scary in a lot of ways.

"Hey," Marshy says from the doorway.

It's not quiet for a person, but it's totally quiet for Marshy. PK spins around in his desk chair. "Hey."

"So, I was thinking," Marshy says, coming in.

"Trying out something new?"

"Your jokes are lame, bro."

"Don't call me bro."

"Your jokes are lame, man."

"Much better," PK says, and grins.

"Whatever," Marshy says. "Let's do a morning do-over."

"Sure thing." PK waits.

"Good morning," Marshy says, coming a little closer.

"Morning," PK says. He has to crane his neck to look up at Marshy. It's kind of awkward. He's wondering why Marshy is standing so close when Marshy drops to his knees.

It puts his head level with PK's chest, because PK's desk chair isn't that high. Marshy grins and tugs at the sweatpants PK hasn't bothered to change out of. "Take 'em off."

PK decides to fuck with him a little. "Why?"

"Because when I said do-over, I meant do-PK. Duh. Come on."

PK waits. Marshy sighs. "Is this going to be one of the times when I have to offer to make us tequila sunrises first?"

That's a terrible idea. PK thinks it over. "Actually, I think, yes. Do that."

"Stay here," Marshy says, and practically runs downstairs.

When he comes back up, he hands PK a drink that smells like it's almost more tequila than orange juice. PK drinks a mouthful, careful not to sputter. These days, booze is probably like water to Marshy. His trainer's going to kill him, but it's worth it for the way Marshy says, "Ahhhh," and drains his.

When PK's done with his own, he stands up and drags Marshy over to the bed. Marshy lets PK push him down, hooking a leg over the back of PK's and arching up against him.

"Hey," PK says, and kisses him, long and slow.

There was enough tequila in that drink that he's feeling a little buzzed. Marshy probably doesn't feel it at all, but he goes with the pace PK sets, rocking up against PK gently and running his hands over PK's back. PK presses Marshy down into the mattress and runs his thumb over Marshy's hip. "Congratulations, by the way."

"You kidding? Rewind and think about the teams we play for, man," Marshy says.

PK shrugs. "Just a tip. If we're in bed, I'm saying it as your friend, not a Hab."

"Oh." Marshy sounds as stupid as Carey tells PK he is. "Okay, sure." He wiggles a little, pulling PK down more firmly against him.

PK would wonder if Marshy's this into being on the bottom with Seguin, but he's a little busy getting Marshy's shirt off. For awhile they just roll around, kissing and occasionally thrusting against each other. After awhile, though, PK's dick gets way too interested in proceedings, and he says, "So, are you going to suck me off now?"

"Nah," Marshy says, "you're going to suck me off."

PK laughs. "I'm the one who put up with your drunk ass last night."

"About that," Marshy says, and spread his legs a little wider. "You suck me, you get to stick it in. Deal?"

PK likes fucking Marshy. He's flexible. "Deal."

"Awesome," Marshy says, but he doesn't make any moves to take his pants off.

So it's PK's job to take them off, then rub Marshy a little through his boxers. He's already most of the way to hard, and that gets PK going, too. It's been awhile since he did this with Marshy, but he remembers all the noises Marshy makes and how easy it is to get him to beg.

He sucks Marshy slowly, way more slowly than Marshy likes, and jacks him off even more slowly. "Hand me the lube," he says, then focuses on the head of Marshy's dick.

"I don't know where the lube is, jackass."

"Table. I left it out."

Marshy stretches, then flips PK off before he has a chance to make a short joke. He throws the lube at PK's head, and PK grabs it, unscrewing it as he fucks around with Marshy's dick.

He starts sucking him off for real once he's gotten his fingers slicked up. Marshy starts with his really stupid noises, whining in the back of his throat and rocking his hips minutely. PK moves with him, stretching him with two fingers, twisting them as he sucks Marshy.

It's nice. Comfortable. So of course, PK pulls off as he adds a third finger.

"Fuck you, motherfucker," Marshy says sharply.

PK laughs. "You love it."

"Fuck you," Marshy says again, tilting his hips.

But he does love it, and he's going to love getting fucked by PK, too. PK pulls his fingers out almost right after adding a third one, then slicks his dick up.

"Hurry up, asshole, you're not that big."

"And you're not that hot," PK says, and presses in.

Marshy makes little breathy noises, spreading his legs even wider and thrusting up against PK. PK has to take a deep breath, steadying himself. "Hurry the fuck up," Marshy says.

"Fuck you," PK says easily, and thrusts hard.

"Oh fuck," Marshy says. "PK, Jesus." He rocks up against PK, then pulls him down for a kiss.

It's sloppy and a little more urgent this time. They're working pretty hard considering Marshy's got to be hungover, but it's so good PK honestly doesn't care. He brushes a thumb over Marshy's lower lip when they're done, and then sets the rhythm, as slow and steady as their first kisses.

Before long, Marshy's babbling praise to PK's dick and writhing ridiculously under him. PK laughs right before he comes, mostly because Marshy's saying, "Hurry up, man, touch my dick, come on, I'll do anything," and PK's a sucker for Marshy being Marshy.

He does get a hand on Marshy's dick once he's done, jacking him off more slowly than Marshy likes, just to fuck with him. "You're an asshole," Marshy says on a gasp, then grabs PK's wrist, holding his hand still as he thrusts into it.

PK shakes him off and moves again, but this time it's fast and hard, exactly what he knows Marshy needs. Marshy lets out a long groan and comes, hands moving restlessly on the sheets.

"Better?" PK says, lying down next to Marshy.

Marshy curls up against him. "You're not going anywhere."

PK's really tempted to get up, just to piss him off, but it's warm and Marshy's octopus arms are okay. "Sure," he says, and stretches out as Marshy lays an arm across his chest.

They don't say anything. They just lie there. It's a good way to spend a Sunday.