Kitten

Brendon worked as a waiter at a small diner called Murphy’s on Main Street, and Ryan would occasionally stop by on a Sunday evening, when the diner was the emptiest, and keep Brendon company and maybe order a milkshake.

But the only customers that Sunday was an elderly couple and Brendon’s co-worker, Lisa, was the only person he had to talk to.

“Missing your boyfriend?” Lisa teased, wiping down the booth that the couple had just vacated.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Brendon mumbled unconvincingly, balancing a tray of dirty dishes back to the kitchen.

Lisa rolled her eyes. “What are you, then?” she demanded.

“Best friends,” Brendon said calmly, just Ryan always would, mentally adding the, with benefits, but he didn’t have to say it. Lisa knew

“So where is this ‘best friend’ of yours tonight, Brendon?” she asked, moving to flip the sign on the door from Open to Closed.

Brendon dumped the tray in the sink for Alex, the cook on duty, to wash and grabbed a broom. “He’s in a play,” he said, beginning to sweep the tiled floor of the diner.

“Really?” Lisa asked, interest flickering in her green eyes. “What play?”

Brendon didn’t answer. He knew that if he said “Dracula,” Lisa would ask which part, and Brendon couldn’t tell her that the actress Kitty Beckett was actually none other than his best friend, Ryan Ross.

“Uh, a small play,” he mumbled. “You wouldn’t have heard of it.”

“Is he a porn-star?” Lisa asked candidly, grabbing a dustpan and sweeping up the neat little piles that Brendon had made.

“No!” Brendon exclaimed vehemently, blushing and turning to put his broom away. “He is not!”

“Are you giving Brendon a hard time again, Lis’?” Alex called from the kitchen.

Lisa laughed and took her apron off. “Do you really need to ask?” she called back. “Oh, Brendon, want me to put your apron away for you?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Brendon said, handing her his apron and watching her make her way back into the staff closet.

“You can take off now, Brendon,” Alex told him. “Lisa and I can finish closing up.”

Brendon nodded his thanks and caught the bus home, checking his watch and wondering if Ryan was finished yet.

Ryan wasn’t home when Brendon got there and Brendon lay awake in bed with a book in hand and the lamp on, waiting for Ryan.

It was an hour later when the door opened and Ryan stumbled in, stage make-up still caked to his face. “Oh, fuck Bren, you didn’t need to wait up for me,” he said, stopping in the bedroom doorway.

Brendon set his book aside and wrinkled his nose. “You smell like sex,” he said flatly, watching Ryan make his way over to his side of the bed.

“Turn the light off,” Ryan ordered and sat down on the duvet, hissing pain as he did so.

“You bottomed?” Brendon asked, laughing bitterly. “I thought that was against your standards.”

“You forget that I’m Kitty Beckett when I’m at the theatre,” Ryan said, crawling under the covers. “Now turn the fucking light off.”

Brendon turned the light off and pressed a kiss to Ryan’s sweaty cheek after he was certain the older boy was asleep.