A/N: This is a tiny little drabble that just so happened to be on my mind, so I wrote it. I had it in mind as rps, but it can also work for showverse, I suppose. I hope you like it!

The image was vivid in James's mind, something he'd never forget and always treasure. It was Kendall, outfitted in an old flannel shirt, beer in hand, with his Boston Red Sox cap perched on his head as he screamed at the TV. James was on the other side of the couch, wearing his Yankees hat and yelling at the TV for the exact opposite reasons as Kendall. The score was tied. The bases were loaded. It was the bottom of the ninth. Kendall and James were about to rip each other's throats out.

Why it was a good memory, James didn't know. It was chaotic, bloodthirsty, and downright unpleasant. They were both so stressed, preoccupied about the fates of their respective favorite teams, and ready to kill each other over that stupid, stupid game. One little game, and they seemed to go from best friends to worst enemies.

Months later, after they'd been on tour together for quite some time, James was sitting outside the tour bus, gray MacBook propped in his lap as he scrolled through his ever-cluttered twitter feed. He felt the hot rays of the sun hitting his skin, contributing to his constantly darkening tan. Once, Kendall had tried to get him to wear sunscreen, and, having failed miserably, ended up writing his name on James's lower back in the gooey white liquid when James fell asleep in the sun. Needless to say, James refused to take his shirt off in front of anyone but Kendall until the non-permanent tramp stamp was long gone.

James looked up, squinting through the sunlight when the bus door swung open. Kendall stumbled out, running a hand over his day-old scruff. He looked the same as always: loose-fitting shirt and skinny jeans, but something was different. It took James a second to place it, but when he did, a a shiny white grin a mile wide broke out across his face.

"You're gonna get wicked raccoon eyes as long as you keep refusing to take off those aviators," Kendall commented cleverly, walking by James and flicking the side of his light brown sunglasses. James only shook his head in reply, unable to wipe the smile from his face.

"New hat?" James asked, eyeing the way his own age-old Yankees hat now rested on Kendall's head. It was funny, he could distinctly remember Kendall saying that he'd rather, "Cut his own liver out and eat it," than ever support the team.

"Whatever dude," Kendall said, running a finger over the tattered black brim of the cap as he strode away from the other boy, "It's just a hat." He shrugged and folded his hands together, glancing in James's direction while he continued walking past. Kendall gave James one last long, steady look, his eyes warm but nervous, before turning and leaving the other boy.

James turned his attention back to his laptop and decided he couldn't see the screen well with all the sunlight. He closed it promptly, sliding it into a case under his lawn chair. Biting his lip, he stood up, assuring himself that it wasn't all in his head.

"Kendall, wait up!" James called, jogging to meet the blonde, who turned around and waited for him. He fell into step easily next to Kendall, their pace matching as they walked along. Neither spoke, just examined the gravel underfoot, ambling along to nowhere. Catching James by surprise, Kendall grabbed the muscled boy's hand, cradling it lightly in his own. James's breath hitched in his throat, but he tried not to show his surprise, instead giving Kendall's hand a tight squeeze in return. They continued walking like this, no words exchanged. It all seemed alright, after all.

A/N: So? What'd you think? Review if you liked it!