Normal, his ass. Karl knocked on Harry's door sharply, waited. Still felt a bit weird to knock. Was still used to strolling in, using his key...living there. From behind the door he heard the sound of heavy footsteps -- Harry walking like an elephant on the hardwood again, no doubt -- and then the door swung open. Harry blinked twice. "Karl." Harry didn't bother trying to conceal his surprise. It wouldn't have worked anyway; Karl could always read him like a book. They stood there for a moment of awkward hands-in-pockets shuffling before Harry spoke. "Well, don't just stand there...come in." Place hadn't changed. Karl wondered why he'd thought it would. Harry was a man who liked his comforts...probably why it took them so long to end things, even after it'd become apparent that Harry's heart was no longer in the relationship. Karl ignored the pang at the thought. He wasn't Harry's anymore. Best to remember that. "Um..." Shuffled his feet, glanced up into tawny eyes. "Is it okay if I talk to you?" Harry regarded Karl with a somewhat opaque expression. "Sure," he said, waving his arm in the direction of the kitchen, "I was just about to make some tea." "You still got any of my matte latte left?" Karl asked, as he walked into the spacious kitchen and sat down at the scarred oak table. "Um, no, I don't think so," Harry replied, opening a cabinet and peering around. "Will regular tea do?" "Yeah, but not that oolong whatever stuff you used to drink." Harry laughed, a short nervous sound. "Fine. I was going to make Earl Grey anyway." He readied the kettle and, when it was on, sat across from Karl. "So...talk." Karl sighed. Yeah, he'd made the right decision. No matter what, Harry would listen, would get it. "Things with Vig are a bit fucked. I think he wants..." Swallowed, couldn't quite form the words yet. "Wants what?" Harry's eyes narrowed. Say it. It's just the one word. "Bean." "Bean?" Harry snorted dismissively. "That was over with long ago." He reached over and fished an orange out of the fruit bowl, began peeling it in long strands, the citrus oil droplets perfuming the tense air. "Tell that to them." When Harry glanced up sharply, Karl nodded. "I think they're...um...Viggo and I have talked." Looked down at his hands, tangled hopelessly together. "He wants...hell, I don't know what he wants, really. But I don't think it's me." There, stated. Once again, Karl was second best. Fuck, but he was tired of that. Harry finished peeling the orange that he didn't really want and set it aside, reaching out to clasp Karl's hand. "I'm sorry, mate." A quick squeeze before letting go. "He's a fool, then." The kettle began to whistle, and Harry got up to attend to it. Easier to turn his eyes to china cups than to look at Karl right now. "Yeah, but I'm the bigger one, I guess. Past couple of weeks have been really frustrating." Karl picked up a slice of the orange, started sucking on the tart flesh. Harry laughed softly under his breath, turning back to the table to place two steaming cups of tea on it. "No, you're not a fool. You never were." His eyes involuntarily fixed on Karl's lips, wrapped around the section of orange, and the small droplets of juice that were beading as the skin of the orange ruptured. Harry felt his mouth go entirely dry. Karl swallowed, pink tongue snaking out to catch the last few droplets clinging to his lips. "I guess I don't know what to do," he shrugged, picking up his mug, blowing on the tea to cool it off. "Let them fuck, get it out of their systems? Step aside? I hate not knowing what to do." Harry swallowed with some effort. "That never works. You'll resent the hell out of both of them." He took a large swallow of tea, welcoming the mind-clearing burn. "Karl...tell me. Why did you come to me about this? Why not Dave or one of your other friends?" Karl took a sip of his tea, placed it back on the table before speaking. "Because we're still friends, right?" Waited for the affirmative nod before continuing. "And I was hoping you could tell me if I'm the problem here. I wasn't enough for you, I'm not enough for Viggo." He took a shuddering breath, kept his gaze on Harry. "If it's me, if it's something I can fix..." "Oh." So that was it, then. Harry set his tea down slowly. "Karl..." Karl was looking at him with pain condensed in every drop of pigment in his dark eyes. "You were more than enough. The problem...was me." "No." Karl scooted his chair closer, bumped his shoulder against Harry's. "You were too good for me, but I'm glad I never convinced you of it." Harry's lips turned up in a crooked smile. "You could never convince me of that." Karl was now sitting so close that he could smell the sweetness of the oranges on his breath. It would be so easy...to just...no. Harry mentally chastised himself. Karl had come here for help, not to be taken advantage of. A brief smile, emotions flickering by too fast for Harry to count. "Life was simpler with you." Karl touched his lips briefly to Harry's cheek, smiling as he pulled back slightly. "I'm glad we're still friends." Friends...yes, but friends don't give you warm shivers inside when their lips merely brush your cheek. Harry felt his resolve slipping away at lightning speed. It had been so long...so long...he tilted his head and leaned in to kiss Karl on the lips, closing his eyes as his tongue flicked out and the taste of orange burst across it. For a moment that stretched onto the horizon, bright and clear, Karl returned the kiss, sliding his tongue along Harry's, humming a bit the way he always used to, lips full and conforming. Harry suppressed the urge to follow Karl's lips when he pulled back. "Still using the awful mint toothpaste," Karl remarked, licking his lips. "And you're still using baking soda," Harry replied dryly, trying to cover the sharp disappointment Karl had left when he pulled away. "Yeah, well...habits die hard, I guess." The next instant Karl's lips were back on his, hard this time, tongue stealing into his mouth. Harry groaned and kissed Karl back with answering ferocity. The spark had blown now, touching tinder, and Karl's hands stealing up under his shirt were threatening to be gasoline as every nerve in Harry's body suddenly caught fire. He was going to regret this...hell, they both were. It was over, they were finished. But it didn't stop Harry from shoving Karl against the table, knocking mugs onto the floor in a careless, shattering heap. The heady, heavy scent of Earl Grey filled the air, but all Harry could taste, see, smell, feel was Karl. Underneath him, tugging his shirt up over his head, jerking Harry's head down for another kiss that incinerated him from the inside-out. Karl's chest was bare before him now, a broad expanse of bronze flesh that begged for Harry's touch. And touch it he did, running his hands across the solid planes, thumbs brushing against Karl's hardening nipples. Karl moaned, a small electric sound that had Harry dropping his hands to yank at the button of Karl's pants. Karl's impatient hands helped, tugging jeans over slim hips, down muscled thighs. Karl leaned up, bit Harry's lower lip, taking him in another tangled kiss. "Now, Harry," he breathed, shoving Harry's jogging pants down, hands on his erection, stroking him with swift movements. Now. Oh, fuck yes. Karl's fingers on his cock were the absolute last straw. With a swift motion Harry grabbed Karl by the shoulders and spun him around, bending him roughly over the kitchen table. Karl pressed back up against him, arching, begging. Reality hit in the next instant, and Harry scanned frantically around, his eyes landing at last on the jar of honey that was sitting beside the teacups. A quick twist and the lid was off, and the golden thickness was dropping in ropy strands down the crack of Karl's ass. Karl moaned as he felt the honey hit his skin -- "Fuck, Harry, today" -- and Harry scooped another large glob from the jar and smeared it over his straining cock. "Today," Harry agreed, tossing aside the jar and pushing hard into Karl in a single sticky-hot movement. "Fuck..." Karl gasped, pushing back to meet Harry's every thrust. Yes, fucking sounded like a goddamn good idea. Harry slammed forward, impatient, rough. God, it had been so long...too long. A lifetime of wasted regrets and the pain of seeing Karl with his lips on someone else. Harry was erasing all of that, starting now. He shoved his sticky fingers in Karl's mouth, groaned again when Karl sucked on them, hard and fast...just like the way he used to suck Harry's cock. And the pressure surrounding him had black spots pooling behind his eyelids. Karl met him stroke for stroke, thrusting his hips back every time Harry moved, grinding and twisting. An inarticulate hiss escaped his lips, and he bent forward, sinking his teeth hard into Karl's shoulder. Karl yelped and jerked forward, but Harry pressed on, trapping Karl against the hard table. His mouth by Karl's ear, Harry whispered roughly in time to his thrusts: "Did...Viggo...fuck...you...like...this?" "Never," Karl groaned, pushing back hard. "Only..." Inarticulate moan, another thrust "...you." Karl reached down, grabbed his own neglected erection, started stroking, driving back into Harry's onslaught. "Harder..." A command ground out through clenched teeth. Harry was only too happy to comply. Straightening up for leverage, he grabbed Karl's hips and began to piston so hard the heavy table started to slide across the tile floor with a scraping groan. The speed and Karl's resultant throaty grunts...too much...Harry's orgasm blindsided him, blotting out sound, sight, and smell in a cataclysmic rush. He slumped forward, heavy, boneless against Karl's back, was dimly aware that Karl grunted his own release before falling completely forward. Harry was pretty sure he'd never move again, wasn't sure he really wanted to. "Whoa," Karl stated, the word wheezing out of oxygen-deprived lungs. Harry smiled, his lips curling up against the sweaty skin of Karl's back. "Whoa," he agreed, sliding slowly out and collapsing into a chair. The kitchen, he could see now, was a fucking wreck. Sometime during that last little rally a teakettle had been knocked off the table and met its fate on the hard tile. Now there were china fragments, tea, and honey all over the floor and the clothes that were piled there. Somehow, though, he just couldn't bring himself to care. Karl rolled over, using the table as leverage. A weak smile curved his lips as he lifted his head, surveyed the damage. "We've done worse," he remarked, before sprawling back against the table. Harry looked at Karl just then -- mussed and gloriously damp and so beautiful he looked like a debauched angel -- and he stood up. Pulled Karl against him. "But we've never done better." And crushed his mouth in a honeyed kiss, tongues gliding and melting. Fitting. Just like always. "Mmm." Karl licked his lips, eyes fluttering shut, when Harry finally lifted his head. "Truly the best friend I could ever have." Friend? Harry had a lot of friends. And he'd never once fucked them through a table. "Friend?" he repeated, out loud. "Yeah." Karl opened his eyes, traced the crinkles around Harry's brow with gentle fingers. "Best ego boost I've had in a long time. Thanks. Felt fucking great." Harry's reply was carefully measured. "Karl," he began, trying mightily not to grind his teeth, "what the fuck makes you think I did that to boost your goddamn ego?" Karl's eyes widened, but Harry let go of him and turned away, pulling his sweatpants back up. Avoided Karl's questioning gaze. Dropped to the floor, and began picking up the wet china shards. Karl heaved himself back up on the table, sitting Indian-style, blithely unconcerned with his nude state as he watched Harry with a puzzled expression. "What the fuck was it, then? Last I remember, you were telling me it was over out there in the living room, wishing me luck in life." One piece. Two. A bit of handle. Harry didn't know how to answer. He was pretty sure he was the one who'd knocked the teacup off the table. He was entirely sure he was the one who'd broken more than a cup before. And now the circle was closing in on him. He gave a short, bitter laugh. "And have you been? Lucky?" "Yeah, I'm so lucky that you left me, that Viggo is leaving me." Karl sounded just as acerbic. "My luck is running in reverse or something. Tell me why you did this, Harry." Luck. Harry wondered if that's just another name for fate. Or if rolling the dice now would turn up snake eyes. And decided that some things...are worth the gamble. He stood, the broken china forgotten, and looked Karl squarely in the eyes. "Because...I thought...you'd come back." Karl blinked, beautiful eyes round with surprise. "You want --" Cleared his throat, sitting straight up. "You...Jesus." "But...I can do friends. Not -- not that we stopped," Harry started in a verbal rush, feeling far more exposed than Karl, sitting there naked on the table. "I just...ah. Hope you're happy." "I was happy with you." Words so soft Harry had to lean in to hear them...thought he might've misheard, anyway. Except that Karl's eyes didn't waver from his. "I never wanted to end it. That was your idea." Harry swallowed hard. "And if I admit to having stunningly stupid ideas occasionally?" "Then I'd ask you what you wanted now." Harry noticed that Karl's hands were clenched in his lap. He stretched his hand out, watching it in slow motion as if through water, and unfolded Karl's hands. "You." He leaned in to brush a whisper-soft kiss across Karl's lips. "What was it you said earlier? Only you." "And what..." Karl swallowed, throat working, and curled his fingers around Harry's. "What changed your mind? Because the sex was always..." Karl didn't finish the sentence, didn't need to. No one else in Harry's life had ever made him burn quite like Karl. "The kitchen stays too clean without you here." Karl's open, easy laughter was the most beautiful sound in the world at that moment. Harry watched, the knot in his chest loosening by degrees, as Karl dropped his head, chuckles echoing off the table, through the room. "I love you, too," Karl gasped out, squeezing Harry's hand in a tight grip before succumbing to laughter once again. Harry smiled, then joined Karl in mad laughter. "Just as long as you help me clean this mess up," he managed to choke out. "After we shower." Karl hopped gingerly down on the floor, avoiding shards of china and globs of honey and tea with determined skill. "Okay...after," Harry agreed. A warm drowsy bliss was seeping through his limbs at the thought of a shower. With Karl. It had been a long time since he'd done that. They had always used to, the soft lemongrass soap etched in his sense-memory, part of the ritual. Fortunately for the both of them, some habits died hard.
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