Kiss Me, Stupid

Trace Vaughn sighs as his little brother, Roscoe, continues to rapidly spell words with scrabble letter. His brother always has to communicate like this; he's mute. Roscoe has been mute ever since he was born. The doctors don't really know why he's mute, what great doctors they are.

Trace gets frustrated with Roscoe's condition sometimes. He just wishes Roscoe could talk to him and tell him how he feels rather then spell it. He wants to hear how his little brother's voice would sound. But all he can hear are the noises Roscoe makes.

Another thing that frustrates Trace is his love for Roscoe. His love has been starting to grow from brotherly to something more. He hasn't gotten the slightest clue to why it has grown. He thinks it's because he's always with Roscoe and has accustomed to all of his flawlessness. It bothers him because of this love. He shouldn't feel this way. It's disgusting and appalling.

Roscoe taps his elder brother's shoulder and a bright smile spreads across his face. His light blue eyes are shining with happiness and his black fringe had fallen into those happy eyes. "What's up, lo- buddy?" Trace asks, catching himself from saying "love."

Roscoe points to the sentence that was sitting on the bed and tugs Trace into a sitting position. Trace looks over the sentence: What's wrong Trace. You look down. Did I do something wrong.

When the older of the two looks up, he sees his younger brother looking at him with worry in his eyes and his head tilted to the side. Trace sighs and presses a kiss to Roscoe's temple, "Nothing's wrong. I'm just frustrated."

Roscoe's quick to arrange the letters to say WHY. 

Trace sighs "You wouldn't understand, Roscoe."

Roscoe furrows his light brown eyebrows. The eyebrows don't match his jet black hair or his light blue eyes. He dumps the whole bag of scrabble letters - which is at least four separate games of scrabble letters - onto the king sized bed and starts picking out letters. Trace sighs and waits for him to be done.

HELP ME UNDERSTAND. I WANT TO KNOW. Roscoe and Trace meet eyes and the eldest of the two knows that deep inside, Roscoe deserves to know. But if Trace can't even embrace himself around this idea, how could Roscoe?

Trace sighs, "It's nothing, Roscoe. It's not important."

Roscoe frowns and goes to get his letters but Trace smacks them away. They fall onto the floor and scatter everywhere. Roscoe's eyes water. Trace sighs, "Roscoe, I-"

Roscoe shakes his head and gets up, whimpering. He picks up his letters and throws them angrily in Trace's face before running into the bathroom. He slams the door shut and Trace's flinched from the loud noise.

Trace sighs and gets up. He leans against the bathroom door, "Roscoe... I just... Sometimes, I wish you could talk. It would be so much easier to know what's on your mind... And how you're feeling. I hate how you have to spell out everything with words. I want an instant reply which is why mom got you a Blackberry but you never use it. It's supposed to help you communicate. And than there's more stuff that you wouldn't understand; I don't even understand. It's eating me away and I just want these feeling to go away..."

Roscoe pokes his head out of the bathroom and tilts his head to the side. Trace sighs, "You want me to tell you more, don't you?" Roscoe nods. Trace sighs, "I can't."

Roscoe pouts and gives him puppy dog eyes, knowing that it's Trace's weakness. Trace closes his eyes so he can't see the face that haunts his dreams, "No."

He feels Roscoe push past him and hears the rustling of the Scrabble letters. Trace opens his eyes and sees Roscoe arranging letters on the bed. He slowly walks over and his eyes bug out when he sees what's written. KISS ME.

"Roscoe? W-What?" Trace is stunned, nonetheless. He didn't expect to have Roscoe feel the same way.

Roscoe let's out a grunt and takes out more letters. Now the message spells: KISS ME STUPID. Trace is happy to oblige. He pushes his lips against Roscoe's soft, plump ones. Their lips move in sync and Roscoe wraps his arms around Trace's neck and Trace slips his arms around Roscoe's slim waist.

The two break apart after a while and they grin at each other. "Why'd you want me to kiss you?" Trace asked.

Roscoe holds up a finger and detangles himself from Trace, walking over to his bags. He takes his Blackberry out and starts typing. After a minute he sends the message and a little chime sings from Trace's back pocket. 

Trace opens the message and reads: Because I love you, silly. I've had these feels since seventh grade and I've known you've had the same feelings too. You're not very subtle with the looks you give me and I act like I don't see them, but I do. I love you Trace.

"I love you too." Trace smiles and the happy couple spend the night in the hotel, in each other's arms.