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Description
Living in Los Angles had its perks. He was able to go anywhere and do whatever he wanted, though he always had to be careful about Obie catching him and ruining his plans.

Kyle walked away from his apartment. He had to make sure to get out before Obie had come home. He groaned to think what would happen if he hadn't escaped; maybe Obie would ask him to play chess.

"Like I'd play with you," Kyle said, glancing at the windows of his home. The lights were still off which meant neither Sam nor Berto were there yet. He frowned. "I know who I want to play with."

So he waited.

___

Berto kept his eyes on the ground as he walked. The shadows seemed to gather around as he stared at the cracks in sidewalk. He just wanted to get home, to sit down and read a book, something to take his mind off things. Anything.

As he got closer to the apartment, he heard something over the howl of the wind. Berto stopped, ran a hand through his hair, and listened.

Someone called his name.

"Hello?" Berto's own voice felt shaky as he heard it. "Who's there?"

A cat screeched in the night and knocked over a garbage can, and then someone shouted, cursed and stumbled out of the alleyway beside the house.

"Jesus Christ!" a voice shouted. "Get the fuck off me, you stupid cat! Berto, get this fucking thing off me!"

The streetlamp overhead flickered on and the light settled on Kyle; he was sprawled on his back, half of his body on the curb, and the cat holding on for dear life to his shirt. His arms were spread wide, almost as though he thought the cat had contracted some sort of disease.

"Kyle?" Berto's voice was betraying him. He could feel his body tremble with the vibrations of laughter. "What is going on?"

"Stop laughing and get it off me, Berto!" Kyle pleaded, his face screwed up in panic. "I think it bit me."

Berto bent down and detached the feline from the fabric. It stared at Kyle for a few minutes, its green eyes seeming apologetic, and ran off into the night.

"She didn't bite you," Berto muttered as he lifted Kyle's shirt to examine his stomach and chest. He grinned. "But I might."

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "That's not funny. I was attacked and all you can think about is your hormones?"

"You were not attacked," Berto said rolling his eyes. "You scared the shit out a poor kitty."

Kyle frowned and sat up. "I wonder if Sam or Obie heard us."

"You mean heard you. I was not the one screaming like a child."

"Oh, fuck you," Kyle muttered as he stood.

Berto's eyes gleamed as he wrapped an arm around Kyle, pulling him closer. "Promise?" he said.

Kyle smirked. "Once I get something in me, I'll play with you all you want."

Description
Living in Los Angles had its perks. He was able to go anywhere and do whatever he wanted, though he always had to be careful about Obie catching him and ruining his plans.

Kyle walked away from his apartment. He had to make sure to get out before Obie had come home. He groaned to think what would happen if he hadn't escaped; maybe Obie would ask him to play chess.

"Like I'd play with you," Kyle said, glancing at the windows of his home. The lights were still off which meant neither Sam nor Berto were there yet. He frowned. "I know who I want to play with."

So he waited.

___

Berto kept his eyes on the ground as he walked. The shadows seemed to gather around as he stared at the cracks in sidewalk. He just wanted to get home, to sit down and read a book, something to take his mind off things. Anything.

As he got closer to the apartment, he heard something over the howl of the wind. Berto stopped, ran a hand through his hair, and listened.

Someone called his name.

"Hello?" Berto's own voice felt shaky as he heard it. "Who's there?"

A cat screeched in the night and knocked over a garbage can, and then someone shouted, cursed and stumbled out of the alleyway beside the house.

"Jesus Christ!" a voice shouted. "Get the fuck off me, you stupid cat! Berto, get this fucking thing off me!"

The streetlamp overhead flickered on and the light settled on Kyle; he was sprawled on his back, half of his body on the curb, and the cat holding on for dear life to his shirt. His arms were spread wide, almost as though he thought the cat had contracted some sort of disease.

"Kyle?" Berto's voice was betraying him. He could feel his body tremble with the vibrations of laughter. "What is going on?"

"Stop laughing and get it off me, Berto!" Kyle pleaded, his face screwed up in panic. "I think it bit me."

Berto bent down and detached the feline from the fabric. It stared at Kyle for a few minutes, its green eyes seeming apologetic, and ran off into the night.

"She didn't bite you," Berto muttered as he lifted Kyle's shirt to examine his stomach and chest. He grinned. "But I might."

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "That's not funny. I was attacked and all you can think about is your hormones?"

"You were not attacked," Berto said rolling his eyes. "You scared the shit out a poor kitty."

Kyle frowned and sat up. "I wonder if Sam or Obie heard us."

"You mean heard you. I was not the one screaming like a child."

"Oh, fuck you," Kyle muttered as he stood.

Berto's eyes gleamed as he wrapped an arm around Kyle, pulling him closer. "Promise?" he said.

Kyle smirked. "Once I get something in me, I'll play with you all you want."