JOSÉ CUERVO, ESPECIAL (especial) wrote in camulus, @ 2011-08-31 21:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log, klaus fenstermacher |
WHO: Klaus Fenstermacher & José Cuervo
WHAT: A kiss. In the Name of Science.
WHEN: ....good question, actually. let's just say today, Wednesday, August 31.
WHERE: One of Sigma's secret underground laboratories.
RATING: IT IS ACTUALLY A LITTLE BIT GORY. PG-13, for grossness. And some swearing.
“I do not understand what I am supposed to do,” José said, fretting with the electrode between his fingers, while Klaus, his BFF of 8 months, sat on an exam table in one of sigma’s many secret underground laboratories, torso bared and covered in other identical small, white electrodes. He frowned at the heart monitor on the wall, which made loud, intermittent beeps in its apparent dissatisfaction with José’s handiwork. “Are these two supposed to be on your shoulders, or by the nipples? The diagram is so unclear!”
His voice rose in a wave of anxiety, and José closed his eyes and exhaled slowly in an effort to calm himself. After all, this experiment would only determine whether or not he would be alone for the rest of his life. He fumbled with the lead, finally sticking it firmly over Klaus’ left armpit, and with rather shaky hands picked up his clipboard, where he scanned his pre-procedural checklist for what was likely the 30th time in as many minutes. “Subject assessment—we did that, vital signs—check, heart monitor—it has stopped beeping now, we are all set, breath mints—”
José huffed hastily into a cupped hand. Despite consuming nearly half the tin of altoids, his breath still smelled like nail polish remover. He hoped Klaus wouldn’t mind.
“...Check. Ah, well, cuate, are you—are you ready?”
Klaus was so excited! He’d kissed more boys in the past month than he had girls in his entire life, which was something he hadn’t noticed until that moment but would have to take the time to examine seriously later. However, this time it was all in the name of science rather than homosexual experimentation, so that made Klaus feel a little bit more legitimate.
“I was born ready!” Klaus said enthusiastically. He poked at the electrodes that covered his body, hoping that this first round of the experiment would provide them with an accurate reading. He would hate it if Jose was alone forever because of faulty equipment or because he wasn’t being a good test subject. Shit! That reminded him that he had completely forgotten about chapstick.
“Oh, noooooooo. I forgot chapstick. I hope you don’t mind chapped lips...” A look of concern crossed his face.
Chapstick! He hadn’t thought of that. Did anyone ever kiss without chapstick? Was that a thing that people did? Did girls ever have chapped lips? José had a brief vision of Amaya Vega’s lips, full and red and luscious, and felt weak at the knees for a moment before he forced himself to return to the issue at hand—no, girls did not ever have chapped lips. It was one of the mysterious truths of the fairer sex.
Panic rising again, José dug furiously through the pockets of his jeans, his hand closing around a small plastic tube. He pulled it out and held it up, his face triumphant as he read the label: ChapStick. Cherry flavored, even. He wondered if it made any chemical difference. Probably not, but he made a note of it on his clipboard anyway. He hovered over Klaus, tube poised over his face, wondering what the least awkward way of applying the substance to Klaus’ lips would be, before he stepped back and handed his friend the tube. Now relieved of a task, he wrung his hands uselessly as he watched Klaus do his thing. It was almost The Moment.
Klaus was fully prepared to accept Jose putting chapstick on his lips -- after all, there didn’t appear to be any cameras around, so they were at least safe from Youtubesphere for now -- but accepted that he would have to do it himself. Once he had finished that, he smiled up at Jose, his lips now free of dryness.
“I am ready now! Let’s do this.” Klaus quickly ran his tongue over his teeth to make sure that his dinner wasn’t stuck in there somewhere, and then gave Jose the thumbs-up, let’s go signal.
“Si,” said José absently, licking his lips without realizing he was doing so. “Si. Ready. Si. Okay.” He leaned down, hands behind his back, with his long hair cascading forward between the two boys’ chests. He pressed his lips against Klaus’.
They had agreed on an open-mouthed kiss, having come to the conclusion that it was the most enjoyable kind of kiss, and certainly an essential part of successfully romancing a woman. At first it was just kind of wet, which, in the entire two times José had ever kissed someone, he’d always found surprising. They never looked so wet on TV. Wow, Klaus has a lot of spit, he thought. He pushed his tongue through, where it was met with little enthusiasm by the dank cavern that was Klaus’ mouth. This is just like kissing a dead person, José found himself thinking, about a split second before the monitor started beeping, furiously..
Klaus was slumping forward, forcing José to catch him around the waist like an awkward hug. He looked over his shoulder at the monitor: his heart rate was dropping fast. This wasn’t good. How had it happened so quickly? Trying desperately to stay calm, he lay his friend back down on the table, put a hand over Klaus’ rather cool forehead, shut his eyes, and concentrated. Out, José urged the alcohol in his system. Get out!
He wished he’d been more particular about the hows and wheres, because when it came out, it came out projectile-vomit style from Klaus’ mouth, accompanied by enough blood to splatter José from head to toe. “Mierda!” José gasped, stepping back, nearly slipping and falling in a small puddle of blood on the floor. “Oh, mierda.” He grabbed Klaus by either side of his head, turning it sideways in the hopes of preventing him from choking. He glanced up at the monitor—it didn’t seem that Klaus was any worse, but he couldn’t tell if he’d actually helped. His friend still looked like death, but now more like a murder than a terminal illness. “Dios ayúdame,” he said, “I think I have killed him.”
He had to get help. But upon throwing his poor, insensate friend over his shoulder and heading for the door, he realized he had no idea how to get out. Sigma’s underground laboratories were deep within a labyrinth of stark white hallways meant to disorient intruders, and moreover, José had been blindfolded upon his entrance, to avoid having his memory wiped later (or so Klaus said.) He wandered blindly down three corridors before, exhausted, utterly lost, and starting to look an awful lot like Jean Valjean, he lowered Klaus to the ground, and dug through his pockets for his PDA. Sigmas, he thought desperately, going through his address book. He dialed the first one he could find.
“Hello?” he shouted in to the phone. “Can someone please rescue Klaus and me from your secret underground maze? I kissed him and I think now he is with the angels...”