Looking for Group

by Alexis Hall

  He passed the spot where he and Kit had first kissed, and that cheered him up a bit. Worrying about his game/life balance suddenly seemed a lot less important than having met someone he really, really liked. Who he was going to see right now. And whose evening he didn’t want to wreck by dumping all this crap on him.

  He resolved not to think about it. And even managed to forget about it completely when Kit opened the door, smiling and looking sufficiently gorgeous that Drew had a rush of oh my God, I can’t believe I’m dating this guy so intense it knocked basically everything else out of his head.

  “So—” Kit gave a slightly self-conscious flourish “—I’ve sort of done a . . . sort of picnic. Which it belatedly occurs to me that we could have had outside. But it’s all set up now.”

  He’d laid a tartan blanket (which looked new enough that Drew suspected he’d bought it specially) on the floor, and put out a variety of breads, cheeses, cakes, and fruit. It was probably the most romantic thing that had ever happened to Drew, since most of his dates had followed a very set format and he’d never quite had the confidence to suggest anything more controversial than dinner and a movie.

  Kit appeared to be accidentally enacting the /shy animation. “I hope it’s okay. I thought we could eat and talk and play a bit of Torment and . . .” He blushed.

  Consumed by <3, Drew threw his arms around Kit and kissed him, gentle at first, and then not so much. “This is the best,” he said, quite a bit later.

  They settled down on the picnic blanket and tucked in.

  Kit gave him a mischevious look from behind some walnut bread. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get any dough balls.”

  “Well, that’s it. We have to break up.”

  “I mean, you can get them. It’s just I don’t have an oven.”

  “You know I’m not actually obsessed with dough balls, right? I do eat other things.”

  “Like strawberries?” Kit produced a punnet from their place of cunning concealment inside a Tesco’s bag.

  Now it was Drew’s turn to blush. “Yeah.”

  Kit was kneeling a little primly on the edge of the blanket, the strawberries cradled in his lap. “Given the complexity of this encounter, I was thinking maybe we should . . . well . . . Practice makes perfect, you know.”

  “Once you get the mechanics down, it’ll be a faceroll.” Drew leaned forward, plucked a strawberry from amongst its fellows, and held it out to Kit.

  It was probably a combination of knowing each other better, having got more comfortable—a lot more comfortable—with touching, and not being in a Pizza Express full of strangers, but any raid leader would have commended their coordination, situational awareness, and teamwork. They even moved on to the hard-mode version, seeing how much they could tease each other’s fingers between bites. And then Drew deliberately dropped one and kissed Kit instead—his mouth as soft and sweet as the strawberries.

  Once they were out of fruit and the remains of the picnic had been tidied away, they settled down on Kit’s bed, got his laptop, and disappeared into Torment, which was still as bewildering and intriguing as it had been on Saturday. Progress remained somewhat oblique, but Drew’s competitive spirit had kicked in, and now they were keeping extensive and detailed notes about who people were, what they wanted, and most importantly, where the hell they were standing.

  They took it a lot slower than Drew would have if he’d been playing alone, but it was honestly more fun this way. They talked to basically everybody with a name and some people without names because Kit was slightly obsessive about it. They went everywhere and discussed everything, and got far too invested in tiny decisions, like whether they should spend their limited resources buying a pet Lim-Lim (Kit felt very strongly that they should) or whether they should tell random strangers their name was Adahn even though it wasn’t (Drew felt very strongly that they shouldn’t).

  It was like they’d stumbled into a lost wilderness of gaming. Drew couldn’t remember the last time he’d played a game where he genuinely hadn’t known what he was supposed to do next, what was important, or what the consequences of his choices might be. He honestly couldn’t decide whether it was terrible game design that the industry had quite rightly grown out of, or if it was something special that had been lost. Perhaps it was a little bit of both.

  In any case, the evening whisked by as they snuggled even closer to each other beneath the laptop, heads together, feet entangled. Annoyingly, the more Drew noticed his own enjoyment, the more worried he got about it.

  Which meant he finally blurted out, “Kit, do you think we spend too much time playing games?”

  Kit parked their party of randoms in a corner of the Gathering Dust bar, and gave Drew a slightly quizzical look. “Well, no. But I’m confused why you’re asking.”

  “You don’t mind we just played a video game all evening?”

  “Again, not particularly.” Kit’s brow wrinkled anxiously. “Do you? Are you not having fun?”

  “No, no, I’m having a great time. It’s just we spend a lot of time in HoL as well.”

  “That’s where my friends hang out. And I like playing it.”

  Drew felt sort of confused and uneasy. He’d been thinking about this quite clearly on his way down, but now, he couldn’t make the ideas stick together right. It didn’t help that Kit seemed totally unaware of the possibility there could be a problem here. And that made him wonder if Sanee had thought the same thing about him. “But you have to have other things.”

  “What’s this about?” asked Kit gently, closing the laptop and putting it to one side.

  That was the point Drew realised he hadn’t brought this up as casually as he’d meant to. “I just sort of realised I’m not hanging out with my friends as much as I used to.”

  “I’d never want to get in the way.”

  “You’re not. Seeing you is really important to me.”

  Kit smiled. “Same.”

  “I guess.” Drew played his fingers up the side of Kit’s wrist, catching the sweet responsive shiver in his skin. “Maybe if we just spent less time in HoL. Like the guild is cool and everything, but I’d really like if you wanted to spend time with me and my mates.”

  Kit’s gaze lingered on Drew’s hand. He still seemed a bit bothered, but all he said was, “Sure.”

  Just like when he’d been talking to Sanee, Drew still wasn’t quite sure he’d said everything he needed to say or said it right, but he didn’t want to make Kit feel like a loser any more than he wanted Sanee to think he didn’t care about their friendship. But he also wasn’t sure how else the conversation could have played out. Kit had agreed to spend real-world time with him pretty easily, so maybe everything would be fine.

  And, in any case, angsting about it now was pointless.

  “Um.” Kit lay back and stretched out, tucking an arm behind his head. “It’s quite late. Are you tired? Or do you want to do something else?”

  He looked really good like that—sort of all lean and elegant and inviting. As if he was waiting to be touched. Drew dropped down onto one elbow, his free hand sneaking under the hem of Kit’s shirt. “I can’t think of anything to say that doesn’t sound like the flirt option in a BioWare RPG.”

  “Mass Effect or Dragon Age?”

  Drew thought about it for a moment. “Do you have a preference?”

  “I’m good with you right now.”

  “That’s a relief. Because I left my Commander Shepard costume at home.”

  Kit’s muscles tightened under Drew’s palm as he laughed. And Drew rolled over him and kissed him into silence.

  “You’re really beautiful, you know?” Drew said, a bit awkwardly. It was true, but he wasn’t quite sure if you were meant to say it.

  “Oh God.” Kit went all pink and lifted a hand to stroke Drew’s cheek, palm curving beneath his jaw. “I don’t know what . . . Sorry, I’m really bad with compliments.” He went, if possible, even pinker, the heat spilling down his throat and disappearing beneath the
open V of his shirt. “I’m glad you like me, though.”

  Drew was suddenly very brave indeed. He kissed his way under Kit’s chin. He was a little rough there—this pale stubble he could feel but couldn’t see. Kit tipped his head back, no hesitation there, just trust and eagerness, a soft noise, half-sigh, half-moan, slipping from between his lips. It made Drew sit up a moment. Kind of stunned and kind of flustered and excited at how right it all was.

  Kit and him. Him and Kit.

  He was looking up at Drew, eyes expectant, still bright with memory of laughter. His breath was coming quickly now, matching Drew’s.

  Well. It seemed as good a time as any. And it seemed kind of unfair to leave all the baring and trusting and scary stuff to Kit. So he whisked off his T-shirt. And was especially glad for the rugby, since he was sort of right there, with nowhere to hide. It wasn’t quite what he was used to, but it wasn’t as intimidating as he’d expected.

  Not when Kit was gazing at him with such pleasure.

  It felt pretty powerful actually. And in its own way, kind of hot.

  He was starting to think that maybe one of the things about sex was that you put up your own barriers. Worrying about what someone else would think about you. Or what you might accidentally be showing them or telling them.

  But if you liked somone—really liked someone—then . . . suddenly none of that mattered anymore. And it was no different from anything else you did together.

  Talking or sharing a joke or playing a game.

  He reached for the first button of Kit’s shirt. “Can I?”

  “God, yes.” A long, hot shudder ran through Kit’s body. “Yes, please.”

  And he caught Drew by the shoulder and pulled him down again.

  That Friday, Drew made certain to go to the pub. He probably would have anyway, but he wanted to show his friends that he hadn’t forgotten them. Kit, of course, was raiding.

  A tiny part of him was worried that Sanee was going to stage an intervention in the Slug and Lettuce, but once they’d all settled down with their drinks and burgers, he instead stood up, tinked on the side of his pint glass with his fork, and proudly announced that he and Steff were hosting the first annual Batstravaganza.

  “The original plan,” he explained, “was to do Begins, Returns, and Rises, but then we realised that a) we picked up all four 1990s movies for less than a tenner back when HMV closed down, and b) they’ve done a version of the Adam West movie with Christopher Nolan–style packaging. So we’re going to do all eight Batman films in chronological order this weekend.”

  “Why?” asked Andy.

  “Because he’s the Batman,” replied Tinuviel in a surprisingly effective Christian Bale impersonation.

  Sanee glanced round the table. “So who’s with us?”

  “Okay.” Andy shrugged.

  “And my axe.” That was Tinuviel.

  “Fair warning.” Steff looked up from her chips. “At least a quarter of these films will be terrible, but we will have a lot of beer.”

  “And bring sleeping bags,” added Sanee. “Because this is some hard-core movie watching.”

  Steff waved a sachet of ketchup solemnly. “And honestly, as a medical professional, I recommend being unconscious through Batman & Robin.”

  “Um.” Given Sanee’s comments yesterday and his conversation with Kit, Drew decided to go for it. He put up his hand. “Can I bring my boyfriend, please?”

  “Oh.” Tinuviel put her hand up as well. “Can I bring my current romantic partner and/or my current sexual partner?”

  Andy squinted across the table. “Are they different people?”

  She squinted back. “Is that a real question?”

  “Apparently not.” Andy gave up gracefully.

  “Bring who you like,” said Sanee expansively. “We’ve got plenty of crisps and the nice thing about movies is there’s no maximum number of players.”

  Drew honestly wasn’t sure it would be Kit’s thing, but he seemed happy enough to be invited. So the next day they met for brunch in this tearoom he liked, detoured back to Drew’s room for . . . stuff, because they were getting pretty good at it, and then—only slightly late—legged it to Sanee and Steff’s.

  Everyone else was already there, so the best beanbags were taken, but they found a corner, and Drew slightly awkwardly introduced Kit to his friends, stalling when he got to Tinuviel’s guests because he’d never met either of them before.

  Tinuviel gestured left. “This is Tom.” Then right. “This is Melissa.”

  Drew was about to ask which one was romantic and which one was sexual, but realised just in time there was no way it could sound good.

  There was a slightly difficult silence.

  “So,” said Sanee, “you’re Drew’s hot elf babe.”

  “Dude.” Drew facepalmed.

  Kit smiled shyly. “It’s the ears, isn’t it? They’re a dead giveaway.”

  Steff disentangled herself from Sanee, and brought them a couple of beers. “Please forgive this tactless arse I’m somehow engaged to. He was trying very hard not to open with, ‘So you’re a gay, then.’”

  “I was not,” Sanee protested.

  “The important thing—” Steff scrambled back onto the sofa, and patted his arm “—is that you believe that.”

  Now that first contact had been established, everyone could settle down, and Batstravaganaza could officially begin.

  Sanee whacked a DVD into the PS4. “Ladies and gentleman, I present Adam West and Burt Ward in their 1966 triumph, Batman: The Movie. Because it was from the days when you had to say something was a movie in the title, otherwise people would get confused.”

  As usual, they didn’t spend that much time actually watching the entity that identified itself as a movie. Mainly they drank and ate and did commentary. While Bruce and Dick were biffing, powing, and socking their way through the criminal underworld, Drew and Kit lost their self-consciousness about being a couple in public and naturally folded together.

  Kit was quiet, but he seemed to be enjoying himself, and Drew was glad he was there.

  A hundred and five minutes later, the credits rolled to raucous applause and a shower of popcorn.

  “So,” Sanee asked, when the noise had died down, “Bats out of ten. I think I’ll give it a seven because it wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t really what I want from a Batman movie.”

  Drew lifted his head out of Kit’s lap. “Oh come on, man. The nobility of the almost-human porpoise. That’s worth at least an eight on its own.”

  “That’s worth minus eight on its own.”

  “Well, actually,” interrupted Tinuviel before they could get into a fight, “I think one of Batman’s great strengths is the way he can encompass many identities, and reflect many worlds. The Batman who leaves Ra’s al Ghul to die in an exploding monorail—”

  “Oi,” yelled Andy, “spoilers.”

  “—loses his impact if he is not set against the Batman who refuses to throw a bomb into a flock of ducklings.”

  Melissa nudged into the side of Tinuviel’s neck. “Who could respect a man who threw a bomb into a flock of ducklings?”

  “What did you think, Kit?” asked Steff, since he’d been obviously quieter than everyone else.

  “Oh.” He thought about it for a moment. “I’d give it eight bats too. Partly for the porpoise, partly for shark-repellent Bat spray, and partly—with my physicist hat on—for the sheer glorious craziness of . . . if you dehydrate someone, and then rehydrate them with heavy water, then the slightest impact will reduce them to antimatter.”

  “Are you suggesting—” Drew grinned at him “—it doesn’t really work like that?”

  “Well,” said Steff, “let’s go back to basics. With my medicine hat on, when you dehydrate someone, they don’t turn into blue dust.”

  Drew shook his fist in the air. “You lied to me, West, you lied to me.”

  They romped on through Tim Burton’s Batman and Batman Returns, and then ordered
pizza to sustain them through the nadir of Forever, and & Robin. Drew thought he maybe fell asleep somewhere between Jim Carrey in green latex and Uma Thurman in green latex, soothed by Kit’s fingers moving gently through his hair. But he definitely woke up about halfway through Batman Begins, mainly because everyone in the room was rasping “Do I look like a cop” as loudly as they could while still doing Batman Voice.

  They’d all basically rallied by the time Batman was hanging the Joker off a high building again, and an emergency injection of very strong coffee courtesy of Tom carried them all the way to the confusing café scene at the end of Rises.

  It was 6 a.m., they’d probably got twelve hours of sleep between them. All they’d done was watch eight movies, only some of which were actually good, but nevertheless Drew was left with a tremendous feeling of accomplishment.

  Sanee rose a little unsteadily to give his closing statement. “Ladies and gentleman, you have just witnessed the entirety of the cinematographic Bat canon. Those still abed will count themselves accursed they were not here.”

  Andy was wrapped up in his sleeping bag, snoring softly.

  Tinuviel stared meditatively into the middle distance. Drew found it difficult to tell whether she was knackered, wasted, or completely normal. “The thing that troubles me the most about Jack Nicholson’s Joker, apart from the fact that it’s clearly just Jack Nicholson, is that because he’s so physically unthreatening, the final confrontation comes down to Batman beating up an unarmed, mentally ill man in his fifties.”

  “It does make Batman look kind of a dick,” agreed Tom.

  Steff pulled Sanee back onto the sofa and snuggled into him. “I’m not sure. I think the fact that Batman keeps whaling on him and he just carries on laughing makes him really freaking scary.”