Sal put on his only dress shirt and traded his jeans for black slacks. Normally, he'd throw on the first clothes he could find, but today was special. He could not believe Russell agreed to go out with him. Although he probably saw this as two guys hanging out, not as two guys developing a life-long relationship. He fantasized about his date-that-was-not-a-date while he brushed out his wavy hair. It still looked frizzy. So he found Brenda's hairspray in the medicine cabinet and used it with much success. Yes, today he would win Russell over through formal dress and hair products.

A tall man with short, blond hair stood next to the kitchen sink when Sal arrived downstairs. "'Morning Tyler," Sal said, opening a cupboard and grabbing a PopTart from its box.

"You're dressed well for a change." Tyler took a sip from the coffee mug in his hand. "Any reason why?"

"Just thought I'd look nice today."

"It's a girl, isn't it?" Tyler grinned. "Good luck with her." Downing the rest of his coffee and clasping Sal's shoulder, Tyler grabbed his jacket and left for work. Sal blushed, studying the clean, linoleum floor. Of course Tyler would jump to such conclusions. Never mind the fact that, maybe, he was dressing up for himself. Or a certain, long-haired beauty. He bit back a smile, his heart fluttering.

"You look handsome," Brenda said from the kitchen table. "You should dress up more often."

"Thanks." Sal fiddled with a button on his shirt, hoping his nervousness wasn't showing. "Russell and I are gonna hang out tonight. I don't know when I'll be home, but don't worry about me."

"Okay, be safe," Brenda said, as he rushed out the door and off to school.

"Wow, fancy," Russell said as Sal walked by his desk. "Special occasion? We're supposed to be hanging out tonight, in case you've forgotten-"

"I haven't forgotten." Sal checked to make sure Brad hadn't come in yet, his heart racing at Russell's compliment. He hoped he hadn't been too obvious with his choice of wardrobe. "And I'm only wearing these clothes cuz all my other clothes were dirty. Don't get any ideas in your head."

"What about your hair?"

"What about it?" Sal snapped. "I woke up with it like this."

"Damn Sal, lookin' good for your boyfriend," Brad said, ambling by.

Sal hid his reddening face by digging through his backpack for his notebook and pen. I'm never dressing up again.

Halfway through class, his stomach growled. "Dammit," he muttered to himself. "I forgot to make lunch."

After school, the two met at the front entrance, Sal feeling particularly giddy. And hungry.

"Do you wanna get food?" he asked.

"I'm not hungry." Russell nibbled his thumbnail, gaze focused on the ground.

"I kind of sort of haven't eaten anything today," Sal said. "I forgot my lunch."

"You could've bought a school lunch."

"Yes, I could've. Except for the part where the line was so long that they ran out of food before getting to me. No, right as they got to me. I would've gotten the last pizza slice if Brad hadn't cut."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, I'm starving now. Can we stop at the food court when we get there?"

* * * * *

The mall's food court was like most food courts. The smell of Asian food, Mexican food, and fast food all blended together to create the ultimate food aroma. Sal purchased a burger and fries while Russell ordered a drink. They both sat down at a table, where Sal tore into his food.

"You really are hungry," Russell said, watching Sal shove handfuls of fries in his mouth. He studied that mouth, which was big in both the literal and figurative sense. It contrasted with his lips, which were more on the thin side. How unfortunate.

Sal grunted through the fries, then swallowed. "So where do you wanna go?"

Russell pulled his eyes away from Sal's lips and looked down at his drink. "Maybe the bookstore." He sipped his soda, watching Sal nod and bite into his burger. He observed those lips again. Maybe not too unfortunate. There's no such thing as a bad-

"What are you thinking about?" Sal asked.

"I was thinking we could go to Cold Gothic." Russell chewed the straw of his drink.

Sal's nose twitched. "You mean that wannabe-goth shop rebellious tweens love because it's the only place that caters to their shitty fashion sense?"

"Yeah, I've only been there once or twice. My parents don't want me going in there, so I'm curious."

"If I was a parent I wouldn't want my kids going in there either. But I could use a good laugh."

That big mouth of his, Russell thought. I wish I could shove my-

"Something wrong?" Sal asked. "You look upset."

Russell shook his head. "No, it's nothing."

Sal polished off his fries while Russell drank the rest of his soda. The two left the food court, Russell throwing Sal's garbage out for him. Not because Sal told him to, but because he straight-up didn't do it. Russell gave him a lecture on manners, which probably went over his head.

Cold Gothic was dark inside, with industrial music playing in the background. Band shirts were displayed on the walls, and little racks were scattered about, displaying gothic-style accessories. Russell felt right at home, especially when a Raveria shirt caught his eye. He wished more people knew about the band, and the glory of symphonic metal in general.

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"I hate this place already," Sal said.

Russell ignored his comment, and focused his attention on a jewelry display. Specifically, a silver chain with a pendant of a red coffin, outlined in more silver. If only his parents gave him an allowance, he would buy it. He'd buy half the stuff in the store. But even if he had an allowance, his parents would never let him wear it. They banned anything related to the gothic culture. He could get away with the cross necklace next to it though. Russell turned his nose up at the thought of wearing anything related to the Christian culture.

"Studded belts. So edgy." Sal held up a pyramid-studded belt.

"That's a pyramid-studded belt," Russell said. "Get your stud types straight."

"It looks like you can get pyramid-studded gloves to match." Sal held up a pair of black fingerless gloves with studs on the knuckles.

Russell smiled as he took the gloves from Sal, admiring the design. "Yes, I could."

"Wait, you're actually into this stuff?" Sal asked. "Goody-goody you? Why don't you wear it?"

"My parents won't let me."

"Why don't you put it on after you leave the house?"

"I never thought of that." Russell hung the gloves back up, leaving out the fact that he didn't have an allowance anyway. Though he did have $15 in his pocket. But what if his parents asked about the money later? And what he spent it on? Russell's eyes darted between the gloves and the coffin necklace. $15 could equal a nice meal. Or popcorn and a movie. He could always lie and say he spent it on a non-material thing.

He only had enough for either the gloves or the necklace. "What do you think I should get?" Russell asked. "The gloves or that coffin necklace?"

"I dunno. The necklace would be easier to hide, but gloves are more practical." Sal studied him. "What are you trying to be? Goth? Emo? Metal?"

"Goth."

"The necklace then. Those gloves give off a metalhead vibe." Something behind Russell caught Sal's attention. "Why..."

"Why what?" Russell looked over his shoulder.

Sal pointed to one of the many shirts displayed on the wall. "Why do they have a Grumpy Cat shirt?"

Russell scowled at it. Grumpy Cat in Cold Gothic. He'd hoped Charlie the Unicorn would've been the last of it. "I don't know," he said, voice filled with disgust. "They've been doing this a lot lately, slapping dead memes-"

"I want it!"

"Of course you would," Russell said, watching Sal make a mess of neatly-folded Grumpy Cat shirts. He looked back at the coffin necklace, and pulled it off the rack.

* * * * *

"You are such a nerd," Sal said, swinging his Cold Gothic bag that contained a Grumpy Cat shirt. They were inside a bookstore, in the Sci-Fi/Fantasy section. Russell had spent the past five minutes thumbing through the books. Sal would have been bored to tears if he didn't have Russell's beauty to distract him. And that new coffin necklace looked great on him.

"Just a minute, then we can go look at children's books for you."

Sal crossed his arms, glaring at Russell, who was too focused on the book in his hands to notice. His hands... They were large, much like the rest of him. Sal longed to reach out and hold his hand. To hold him. To be held by him. His chest ached, and he moved in closer. So close he could smell his apple-musk aroma. The scent alone made his knees buckle, and he had to hold onto a shelf to remain upright.

Russell closed the book, and stepped away from Sal. "What are you doing?"

"I was just, going over there." Sal nodded towards the next section, and walked to it. Russell returned the book and followed.

"Great. Romance novels," Sal said flatly.

"I didn't know you were into those," Russell said.

"I'm not." Sal shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt. "I was making an observation."

Russell pulled out a book with a shirtless, muscular man on it. "I love how all these covers look the same, with some buff guy on them. Shirtless or almost shirtless." He pulled opened the book to a random page. "Perfect!"

"What?" Sal peered over Russell's shoulder to see what he was laughing at, and tore his eyes away, wincing. Of course it had to be a sex scene. What else would be in a romance novel? And fate would have it, Russell went ahead and read it aloud in a dramatic voice.

"His member twitched as he pulled me close, his hand cupping my-"

"Homoerotic novels!" Sal interrupted, pointing at a sign behind Russell. "I didn't know they had a separate category for that."

"Yeah, they do." Russell closed the repulsive book and returned it to its proper spot. A wave of relief washed over Sal, until Russell pulled out a book from the "homoerotic" shelf. It couldn't be any better.

The book was titled The Pansexual Werewolf Chronicles. "What kind of book is that?" Sal asked.

"A series about pansexual werewolves," Russell said, skimming through the back summary.

"Some people are into the weirdest things."

Russell glanced at him. "I'm pansexual."

Sal gave him a blank stare. "What?"

"I'm pansexual."

Sal continued staring blankly.

"Do you know what that means?"

"Yeah. Of course I know what that means. I'm not an idiot." Sal flicked his hair over his shoulder, except it wasn't long enough to stay over his shoulder. "Why are you telling me this?"

Russell's eyes met the thin carpet, thumbnail in mouth. "Just thought I'd share."

"That's... something I'd keep to myself, personally." Sal rubbed his hand over his arm, avoiding Russell's startled expression at his words. "Not that there's anything wrong with it. Whatever makes you happy."

Russell didn't look very happy, and the subject dropped at that.

Sal spent the rest of the evening deep in thought. He'd never heard of people being sexually attracted to pans, and the concept seemed unreal. What do pansexuals do with pans, to satisfy those urges? And how could he ever satisfy Russell, if Russell was only satisfied by pans? Not that it mattered, since he was probably straight anyway.

But pans? What about other kitchenware? Is he into spatulas too? Spoons? Spoon... Spooning. Sal fantasized about spooning Russell, and could not stop smiling as they walked through the mall.

"Why are you smiling so much?" Russell asked, still seeming unhappy. He'd barely spoken since they left the bookstore.

Sal shook himself out of his thoughts. "I'm not smiling. What are you talking about?"

"You were smiling."

"Yeah, because this date's almost over. I can't wait to say goodbye to you."

"I thought this wasn't a date."

"It's not." Sal focused his attention on the vending machine up ahead. "Where'd you get that idea from?"

Russell checked his watch. "It's 5:30. I guess we can head out now, since you can't stand being around me any longer."

"I don't understand you," Russell said as they walked through the parking lot.

"What do you mean?" Sal asked.

"The way you act. One minute, you argue and insult me. But then you act friendly." Russell glanced over at him. "Why?"

Sal shrugged.

Russell gave him a once-over and smiled. "You really do look nice today. Even if it's only because your other clothes were dirty. You should dress up more often."

Thank God it was dark out, so he couldn't see Sal's warming face. The only source of light came from a handful of streetlights scattered throughout the parking lot, giving off a yellow glow. "And you should go on a shopping spree at Cold Gothic one of these days. You need more accessories or else you'll be accused of not being goth enough."

"Maybe." Russell's mouth twitched, and he stopped in front of his car, fishing through his pocket for keys.

That beautiful mouth. Sal longed to kiss it. And the moment seemed perfect. People usually kissed at the end of dates, and this was kind of a date. Maybe if he took initiative, Russell would be tempted to do the same. And realize he loved boys about as much as he loved pans. Sal leaned in close, face inches away from Russell's.

Russell turned his head. "What are you-"

"What's your middle name?" Sal blurted out. "Mine's Sergio."

Russell blinked, furrowing his brow. "Russell."

"Russell's your middle name?" Sal asked. Russell nodded. "What's your first?"

"None of your business."

"Rude." Sal swung his Cold Gothic bag at him, aiming for his leg but missing, hitting his butt instead. Oh God, no!

Russell stared. It was too dark to read his facial expression, but it was either neutral or cold. For a second, it seemed like there was a hint of a smile.

Face burning, Sal resisted an urge to flee the parking lot. "I'm sorry, I didn't, I meant to-"

Russell set his hand on his shoulder. Sal's knees buckling as he struggled to keep upright. Russell's face was inches away from his now. He could feel his warm breath on his cheek and...

Russell gave him a playful shove against the car. "Get in, dork."