"That's just ridiculous, no one could kill that many orcs with that amount of arrows in them.

He looks like a pincushion," Bret remarked, deciding to ignore the fact that the likelihood of being attacked by orcs was not all that great to begin with.

"He feels guilty about taking the ring from Frodo. Trying to make it up," said Jemaine hoarsely.

They had spoken more during the course of the film than they had for the past two days. Bret had always been chatty during films though. Jemaine had thought it was cute when they first met. Then he thought it was annoying. He wasn't sure how he felt about it right now. The thing was, once Bret asked his silly questions, Jemaine's mind was suddenly devoted to answering them. They gnawed away at his consciousness until he thought up a satisfactory answer.

"Do you suppose Jareth is a goblin or is he just the goblin king?"; "What happened to the submarine anyway?"; "Is he the baddie?"; "Hang on, what just happened? I was fixing my shirt."

Watching movies was now less a silent appreciation of the film making and acting and more a running commentary on whatever seemed to occur to Bret at the time. And after time he'd picked up the habit himself of voicing any and every thought he had on the film.

"So is he a goodie or a baddie?" Bret asked, "Its a bit ambiguous isn't it?"

"He tried to mug Frodo and failed but he also tried to save Merry and Pippen. And failed. He is fairly inept at being a goodie or a baddie, really," Jemaine answered.

"Aragorn thinks he's a goodie. He's not cross about Frodo or anything."

"Well it's a bit late for that when Boromir's dying. It's nice to be nice to people with arrows sticking out of them." Good general advice for life really.

"They didn't even get on that well. I think Boromir thought Aragorn was too scruffy to be his king," Bret said observationally.

"Sorry?" They all had beards in this film, and by all accounts (his mum and Bret's mum) Viggo Mortensson was greatly improved by a certain degree of scruffiness.

"Well his family's been the stewards for all this time only for some one to waltz in without shaving or wiping their boots and saying they're king,"

"Bret, how do you think these things up? Besides he seems to be taking most of that attitude back now with all this 'my brother, my captain' business"

"Yeah... That's nice I guess"

"You don't think it's a bit gay?" Jemaine held his breath and wasn't entirely sure why.

"Not everything is gay, Jemaine. It's all gay with you!" Bret exclaimed, exasperated.

"Right sorry" Jemaine muttered guiltily.

"There's not that many girls in this film. They have to express their feelings because they're no ladies there to be in touch with their feminine sides!"

"What about this kissing thing?"

"Well... that's not gay. Look." Bret broke off and leaned over, bridging the gap between them. He kissed Jemaine's temple clumsily and slipped a bit causing a minor collision with his friend.

"See," he said breathing against Jemaine's face, "that's ok. Isn't it?" Bret bit his lip and looked up into Jemaine's eyes.

"I'm not sure," Jemaine stuttered, "can you try it again?"

Bret blushed and nodded slightly. He pushed his body up and pressed his lips against the bigger man's forehead. Jemaine sucked in a shaky breath quickly. Bret pulled back and looked Jemaine full in the face, becoming uncomfortably aware that he was straddling his friend's lap.

Jemaine's face and neck was flushed and his pupils were wide and dilated, making his eyes look black. He felt large hands at his hips manoeuvring his slim body onto Jemaine's broad lap. No wonder he does such good time on the stationary bike, Bret thought absently, feeling the other man's strong legs between his own. The hands were now moving up his back and pushing him forward closer and closer towards his friend, which made it very hard to think of anything at all.

"Bret, I think I'm going to kiss you. It might be a bit gay," said Jemaine very earnestly. The sheer absurdity of the situation made Bret giggle nervously. He nodded quickly before Jemaine lost his nerve.

"I suppose we won't know until you do it," he said in a pitch at least an octave above his normal speaking voice. There goes suave and confident, he thought hysterically in the part of his mind that was still capable of thought.

Jemaine suddenly pulled Bret very close, until their faces were almost touching.

"Hi," he said and then immediately felt ridiculous.

"Hi," replied Bret who chose this moment to start giggling again.

The giggling stopped as soon as it began when Jemaine tipped his head to the side and pressed his lips to Bret's with surprising tenderness. The pulled apart and looked at each other.

"That was a bit gay," said Jemaine awkwardly.

"Do you mind if we try it again to be sure?" Jemaine looked up at Bret who was biting his bottom lip and smiled. Bret smiled back gently and kissed Jemaine softly and open mouthed.

This was new and different and ioh god Bret!/i He rubbed patterns up and down the skinny back under his hand and delighted in the warm, wet noises Bret made and the happy humming that the stroking produced.

Jemaine had the fullest softest lips he had ever kissed. Softer than any girl's. And yet at the same time, there was stubble scratching his cheeks and a hard man's body underneath his own. And it was flippin' awesome.

They had to stop to breath and rested their foreheads together and panted against one another's faces.

"Definitely gay," Bret smiled. Jemaine tugged at the bottom of Bret's tee shirt and grinned back at him. His lips were swollen and his face was red where Bret's beard had rubbed against him.

"Bret, I have a confession," he said, "I drank from your water bottle." Bret cuffed him around the head playfully.

They curled up on the sofa with the blanket tucked carefully around them. The big talks could wait til the morning, when they were rested and better. Right now it was alright to be a little gay.