In Philly, sexuality is not something you ask about.

Not that it’s not there, nor never discussed. Just, Herm and his friends don’t go asking people. There are assumptions, of course, and innuendo. Very rarely will someone volunteer this information explicitly. Instead, they’ll use the term partner, or avoid pronouns when discussing their significant other. It’s another form of code, and one that takes Herm all of college to grasp.

But, by the time he meets Aaron, he’s fluent in it.

They’re backstage at a comedy club in LA waiting for their turn on the stage. Herm’s seen Aaron around a few times. They’ve said hello in passing, but haven’t exchanged more than twenty words collectively.

Aaron’s sporting thick twists that hang above his shoulders. Herm’s never asked, but he gathers that Aaron’s a good few years younger than he is – he’s still got some chub to his cheeks, despite the gangliness in the rest of his physique.

“You good, Aaron?” 

Aaron’s leg stops jiggling immediately. “Sorry. Yeah, just keyed up tonight.”

Herm eyes the green V can clasped in Aaron’s hand. He raises his brows, but doesn’t say anything other, “You’ll be fine.” Two more minutes pass. Through the curtains, the light turns on. The comedian onstage stumbles over their next sentence as they rush to wrap up. 

Aaron springs to his feet. Then pivots to face Herm. “You live around here, right? Know any good K-town clubs?”

“Yeah, man. I can show you around.”

“Cool,” Aaron says, nodding with a goofy grin. Herm smiles back. He likes Aaron’s vibe. “Great! I look forward to it!”

The other comedian walks offstage. Herm gets up to shake the guy’s hand, as is the custom in these types of clubs.

Aaron’s closest to the unknown comedian, and he greets the other man with a hug. Which is odd, but maybe they’re friends? Aaron seems like a hugger.

Except when the other comedian pulls back, his hands linger on Aaron’s arms. They smile at each other for a brief moment. Their eyes are soft. Loving.

“Got to go!” Aaron breaks free and lopes onstage.

“Go kill it out there, Branch!” The other man hollers behind him. He watches Aaron’s departure for a second, before turning back. He seems startled at Herm’s presence.

“Good set, man,” Herm says, coming in to dap him up. To himself, he thinks, boyfriends?

He files the thought away.

Later, at drinks, Aaron, Herm and a few others from the comedy club squeeze themselves into a table. Aaron’s on his phone, and Herm leans over his shoulder to see him checking some pseudo-science Astrology app.

When Aaron catches him looking, he puffs out his chest. “Triple Gemini, baby!”

Herm laughs, as if that means anything to him other than, Queer-ish?

~

Kevin's first introduction to Aaron occurs just after they wrap Kevin's first ever Guess the Black Person.

“That was good, yeah?” He asks Zane, who’s hard to read when he's got a clipboard in front of him. Kevin doesn't remember getting him a clipboard. He doesn’t have the budget for that. Doesn't have the budget for the studio, either, and they need to wrap up so the next entrepreneurs can inhabit the space. Probably to film a porno. 

It’s a cheap studio.

“‘Cause it felt good. Did it feel good to you?”

“Yeah, man,” Zane says, his moustache lifting with his smile. “Go hang out with your guests! And get them to come back. They were funny.”

They were funny. That's a whole other level of stress on Kevin. Getting comedians had been a good call, but were they too funny? Would Kevin pale in comparison? Should he take improv classes? All questions he wants to ask Zane, but Zane's consulting his clipboard that Kevin's starting to suspect is blank. 

“Oh, you know Aaron?” Herm's asking Denny. They're standing around, jackets hanging loose from their shoulders. Kevin's glad they haven't left yet. 

Denny snorts. “Yeah, I know Aaron. How do you know him?”

“Been to a few sets with him.” Herm turns his feet outward, just enough to let Kevin into the conversation. “Hey, if you ever need another panellist, you should hit up Aaron Branch. He's pretty funny.”

“Tries to be,” Denny says, more to himself than the others. “Nah, he's good. I asked him actually – but he said he wasn't sure. Man’s a bit shy.”

This time, it's Herm who lets out a disbelieving huff. “Huh. I didn't get that impression at all. He's very loud.”

Denny shrugs. Doesn't explain further.

Kevin thinks both can be true. Maybe this mysterious Aaron is like him. Charismatic enough to hide the crippling social anxiety lying underneath. 

“You should ask him again,” Kevin says to Denny. Then, more confidently, squashing down the little nagging worry that he's overstepping, “Tell him I asked, on yours and Herm’s recommendation.”

Denny cracks a toothy smile. Kevin's not sure if it's relief, but it feels like it. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I'll do that.”

And, so, barely a handful of weeks later, Kevin finally meets Aaron. 

“Knock, knock?” Comes an unfamiliar voice from the studio’s entrance.

Kevin glances up and snatches the glasses from his nose, shutting his laptop lid from where he's editing footage.

The man hesitates in the doorway, one hand clenched around the strap of his backpack, the other fiddling with the end of his twists.

“Hey! Aaron, right?”

At Kevin's approach, Aaron smiles. He shoves one hand in his pocket to cease the fidgeting and sticks the other hand out for Kevin to grab.

Kevin shakes it, and Aaron does a little step forward, then pauses, confused. Kevin retracts his hand hastily, and berates himself. Aaron was probably going to dap him up, and Kevin's already shown how unfamiliar he is with these little cultural quirks. 

“Yo, nice studio!” Aaron says, seeming to forgive the social faux pas without bringing attention to it. He steps inside, head swivelling as he takes in the white walls. “Oh, these cameras are massive! What brand?”

Kevin rattles off the specs. He’s about to tell Aaron that he had to take out a loan for them, but thinks better of it. TMI. Aaron has only just met him.

Kevin's shoulders lose their tension as Aaron fires more questions at him, getting swept away in his easy conversation. He gets what Herm meant – Aaron doesn't seem shy at all, seems to be putting all his energy into putting Kevin at ease, even though Kevin's the host.

But, during the shoot, Kevin starts to understand Denny's view. He doesn't know if it's the group setting or the weird film environment, but Aaron's pretty quiet, though Denny makes sure to ask him a few questions directly. Kevin makes a note of that – as well as Aaron’s preference for Celsius. 

The next few times Aaron comes to set, Denny and Herm start lobbing softball sexuality jokes his way, and Aaron settles. He leans into the ribbing, seeming relieved that he's found his niche.

Kevin remains overly conscious of Aaron's likes and dislikes, wanting to put him at ease like Aaron did for Kevin. By the time Aaron finally, finally agrees to be a full-time panellist, Kevin's created a mental list of Aaron's preferences: physical touch, time to push past the stutter, an unhealthy amount of caffeine, and both men and women.

~

“You’s attracted to him,” Denny accuses, giving form to the suspicion Zane had been harbouring for the past 30 minutes of the shoot. 

“He's kinda hot,” Aaron admits. Aden, their fake firefighter, winks. 

When they stand up for the activity round, Zane drifts closer to set. 

“Choose Aaron,” he mouths to Aden. Aden nods and turns back to studying the others’ rescue attempts. Zane grins to himself, thinking already of how this will be clipped. He needs to revisit that conversation with Kevin, actually, about getting a social media person. If not full-time, maybe a couple of days a week…

He zones back in. Consults his clipboard. Checks the set. The others start jeering as Aden swoops in to save Aaron from the imaginary fire.

The moment is magical. Aden picks Aaron up as if he weighs nothing, and their cameras zero-in on Aden's flexing muscles. Brilliant!

Aaron plays into the theatrics, spreading his arms like Yeshu. Zane notes down, dramatic music!, and is pleased to see the handheld camera following them though the smoke.

He also notes, mentally rather than on paper, the way Aden touches his hand to Aaron’s head after he sets him in his chair, and the flushed giggles it encourages.

When they break, Zane corners Denny. 

“Is Aaron dating anyone?”

Denny doesn't look up from his phone. “Why? Looking for your fourth wife already?” He chuckles at his own joke. 

“No. Listen, I got an idea. I want your input.”

“Kev not around?” Denny asks, somewhat suspiciously. He does pocket his phone, though.

“I don't know, but it's about Aaron. You think he'd go on a dating show?”

Denny's face lights up at the concept. His dark lips split wide. “Oh, man, that's brilliant.”

That's all the encouragement Zane needs to spin his idea out into fruition. “I'm thinking of stepping way up from that other dating show you helped us out with. Bigger budget. Bigger set. Bigger pool of candidates.”

Denny's nodding along. “Bachelor style? Roses?”

“Oh, we gotta have roses! But I want the full panel involved so maybe we do a blindfold round.”

“What, like we choose for him or he chooses based off sound?”

“Not sure yet. We'll have to discuss it, see which one works better. What's his type?”

“He’d never admit it but he likes his Asian women. I think he feels a kinship with them, being beige himself. She’s gotta be funny, but I feel like that's a given for any of us. All his last girlfriends have had long dark hair – I don't think he likes blondes.”

Zane jots this down. “And for men?”

Denny bursts out laughing. The doubled-over, hands on knees type. “You are looking for a fourth! I knew it!”

Zane rolls his eyes but allows a grin. “Maybe I'll add myself as a candidate.”

Denny chuckles, straightens, and starts walking away. “Aint no way you're blending in.”

Zane furrows his brows. He's hardly blonde.

But then he spots Kevin, coming in with lunch, and Zane races to his side. He launches into his pitch, getting more excited and more sure that this is a great idea and that he should see if Aden's willing to come back and that they should end the season like this. Kevin nods along until:

“Is Aaron, like, out out?”

That stops Zane. He cocks his head. Thinks about it. 

Huh. He doesn't recall Aaron ever explicitly putting it into words. But he doesn't seem shy about it either. Especially not after today.

Though, what if that's how he wants it? Not labelling himself to the public? Is it insensitive to even ask?

The logistics makes Zane’s head hurt.

“What about Denny? Do you think he'd be down for a dating video?”

~

“Hey, happy pride month, man.”

Denny swivels, ignoring Andy's protests as he tries to clip the microphone to Denny's denim jacket.

Zane's walked in, sunglasses resting on his forehead, and he's dapping up Aaron. Aaron doesn't seem fazed by the comment, which is normal, but Zane sounds almost sincere.

Which is bullshit. Zane's sneaky like that – his most cutting jokes always start with sincerity.

He can see why Zane's said it, though. He clocked it from the moment Aaron stepped into set – Denny registering his entrance the way he's always subconsciously searched for him. Today, after some good-natured harassment over Aaron's recent clothing choices, he's opted for something almost conservative by his standards. Light blue jeans that teeter on baggy, his usual Ticklé cap, and a dark green T-shirt. 

With a rainbow stripe on its cuffed sleeves.

Zane's punchline never comes. Kevin wanders over, pushes Aaron with a lazy hand so the man stumbles slightly. It's done without any real force – Aaron only stumbles because he wants to, because it lets him propel back into Kevin's hand.

“You ever been to the parade?” Kevin asks

Another jab without heat. Is Denny losing his touch? Have they transformed to a different kind of humour?

“The one on the Boulevard? Like, once with my ex a couple of years back.”

Denny squeezes in between Kevin and Aaron. Excuses his sudden presence by grabbing Aaron’s cap and putting it on top of his own, as if he's only here to annoy him. “What, with Abby? That your idea of a date?”

Aaron swipes a hand at Denny's head. Denny sticks his hand in Aaron’s face.

“No, not Abby,” Aaron huffs. He goes up on his tiptoes and Denny matches him.

“A couple means two, Aaron.”

“I know that, dawg!” Aaron jumps. Denny ducks; comes around the other side of him. Hilarious, that Aaron thought he'd beat Denny in a fight. 

“You didn't date any other girls in 2024!”

Aaron’s head jerks backwards with a little snort. “You keep a list of my partners?” He makes another grab for his cap. Denny swats Aaron's hand away and then takes the cap, squashing it firmly down on Aaron’s head. 

“There hasn't been that many.” He flicks the cap. Aaron rubs it as if it had hurt, which it hadn't. Denny made sure of that.

“Well, you're wrong.”

“Which girlfriend am I missing?”

Something flickers in Aaron's expression. Amusement to something akin to confusion.

There's a beat. 

Herm, in the background, looks up from his phone, mouth twisted in the amused way it does when he doesn't understand Denny's antics. Zane's eyebrows are raised at Denny, mouth parting with a wet pop as if he's just realised something. Kevin, too, looks at Denny, then at Aaron, then at the ground when he spots Denny watching him from the corner of his vision.

“Denzel…” Herm says, still sitting.

Aaron giggles. It's stilted; unconfident. “Are you being serious?”

Slowly, very slowly as if preparing to be hastily corrected, Denny forms his next sentence:

“...You had a boyfriend?”

Another laugh, as if this is some big joke and not a huge revelation. “Yeah, dawg.”

Denny feels his face changing. Is overly aware of his own lack of comprehension. Feels, quiet strongly, that he does not want to have this conversation in front of the others. That, suddenly and urgently, he needs to be alone with Aaron.

But this doesn't seem to be news to anyone except Denny.

“You've dated men.” This, he says as a statement. He's no more sure of it, though.

“Yes.” Aaron has lost the humourous tint to his voice. “Denny–”

“Okay,” Denny says, because it hits him that he hasn't said that yet. “Okay, cool. When did– I mean, okay.” He feels dumb, repeating himself like this. Like Aaron. Like the words are tripping in his brain.

“Can you guys give us a minute?”

Denny wants to protest. It shouldn't be Aaron saying this. Aaron shouldn't be trying to make Denny comfortable.

The others file out.

“Aaron.”

He wants to– he doesn't–

He reaches for Aaron. Clasps his bony shoulders. Squeezes them, thinks about berating him to eat more protein, thinks about recommending a protein shake, remembers Aaron doesn't like shakes and prefers protein bars, thinks about hitting a pub with Aaron and forcing him to eat a Tomahawk steak, thinks about how he cares so much about his best friend but not enough to have noticed this.

He crushes Aaron against himself. His hands slide around Aaron’s back and locks him into place. To his credit, Aaron doesn't hesitate in returning the embrace.

“Jesus Christ, Aaron,” he mumbled into cloth, one annoyingly damp eye examining the pastel rainbow stripe. “You gotta tell me these things.”

“I did!” Aaron insists, and then he laughs. “Well, I thought I had made it obvious.”

“Clearly I'm an idiot.” Denny huffs. Still doesn't let Aaron go. Remembers, vividly, the hundreds of jokes he had made. Feels a cold wash of regret; of guilt. Was it his fault that Aaron hadn’t told him? “I'm sorry. Fucking hell, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

“For what?”

Now, Denny does pull back. Arms on Aaron's shoulders, he frowns at his friend's face. It's open and trusting and genuinely confused. It's infuriating.

“Slap me.”

“What?”

“Slap me.” Denny steps backwards and gestures at his cheek. “Come on, go ahead.”

“I'm not gonna slap you, dude. That's too kinky, even for me.”

Denny doesn't rise to the joke-bait. “Tickle me, then.” He raises his arms to a T. “Seriously, I deserve it.”

Aaron pushes his arms down. “Another time. What's gotten into you? You met Mark!”

Denny did meet Mark. Mark, who, for a few months in 2024, was seemingly always at Aaron's place. Denny just assumed he was couch surfing. Not that he was staying the night in that way.

A lot of pieces fall into place. Or, rather, not like a puzzle, but a painting that he previously studied with a blindfold on. He blinks at the shift in light. 

Reconsiders the disorganised piles of clothes that had been littered around Aaron's apartment. Mark’s dishes always in the sink, amplifying Aaron’s usual mess. 

“You have terrible taste in men.”

Aaron lunges for Denny's armpits.

~

“You guys look ridiculous,” Aaron says after a full minute of laughter. His sides hurt from the residual chuckles that ripple out of him every time he spots another ridiculous and garish piece of his friends’ outfits.

“Don’t be homophobic, A Boogie,” Denny scolds from behind his rainbow-rimmed sunglasses.

“Just trying to blend in,” Zane says, and at least his fit seems satirical. He’s chalked his moustache rainbow, for fuck’s sake. 

Herm is more lowkey, thank God, holding a small hand-waiver flag while dressing in his usual laidback attire. 

Kevin and Denny are the boldest of the bunch, looking as if a rainbow had vomited them onto the sidewalks of WeHo.

“What do you mean?” Kevin cries, then struts forward. “Hurry up, I don’t wanna miss the music!”

Kevin doesn’t do “breaks” very well.

It’s not that he’s incapable of relaxing, though his girlfriend would argue otherwise, but it’s more so that any prolonged period of relaxation leaves him feeling… useless. Restless.

It’s not for a lack of effort!

Kevin maximises the hell out of his break. He travels back to Senegal to see family, spends some time there rejuvenating amongst his cousins, makes promises to fly people over to the States, brushes up on his French, travels back to the United States, roadtrips to the East Coast, catches up with friends outside the YouTube/Comedy scene, spends some time in spas, spends a lot of time in the gym, does everything he possible can to avoid this pit in his chest that just keeps expanding in its greedy ache–

“You should come back early,” his girlfriend says one morning, when Kevin’s gotten up with the sun and done nothing but mope around on the couch. Eileen prods him in the shoulder when he doesn’t respond right away. “Hun?” She presses a kiss to his cheek.

Kevin sighs, long and loud. “Even if I wanted to–” she gives him a look, one that says, you can’t fool me, “-the guys deserve a break too. I can’t just decide we’re coming back without asking them.

“So ask them.”

When Eileen says it, everything sounds so easy and simple. For a moment, he fools himself into believing yes, I’ll just ask, no need to get stressed about it!

(He gets very, very stressed about it.)

“Zane!” Kevin sings, voice too high and almost cracking as the nerves leech out of his body into the floorboard he’s pacing. “How are you? How was Australia?”

“Oh, man,” Zane laughs, “Don’t ever use that accent around Australians. They’ll skin you alive.”

“That’s not true! The YouTube statistics say that Australians love me!”

“As much as they can love anything that’s not beer and surfing,” Zane mutters.

“Sounds like your heaven, then.”

“The first part, sure. But what’s up? What’s going on?”

Ah, Zane. Always able to see right through him. Although at first Kevin thought Zane’s tendency to skip small talk was a little rude, he can now appreciate that about him. Like Kevin, Zane’s always got half a brain dedicated to the show, to growing it, to making it better.

“Well, I was talking with Eileen–”

“You want to come back early?” Zane guesses. He laughs again. “This has to be some kind of record for you. Are you incapable of taking a break?”

“I’m not incapable! I’m just, you know, toying with the idea.” Kevin sounds way too defensive to his own ears. “Is it a stupid idea? Do you know what the guys are up to?”

“Eh, who knows?”

“Damn comics,” Kevin laments. “Why are y’all always so uncontactable?”

“Hey, I picked up your call straight away! And I think Herm and Aaron wrapped up the last show of their tour leg. They’ll have some time. As for Denny, who knows, he’s probably in Brazil somewhere finding himself a good woman.”

Kevin nods, as if Zane can see him, and as if he hasn’t obsessively stalked each of their social media for the past month of idleness. Denny just got back from Brazil, actually, but Kevin doesn’t correct Zane.

“But they haven’t mentioned anything to you? Anything about January plans?”

“So you want me to call them?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You didn’t have to. I’m reading through the lines here. Have you seriously not spoken to them since we wrapped?”

“‘Course I have!” Kevin sent them all Merry Christmas and Happy New Year texts. Denny didn’t respond, Herm sent back a quick ‘You too, hope your family’s well’, and Aaron sent back a damn paragraph (Kevin has it screenshotted and backed up on his laptop in case his phone ever gets wiped and he may or may not have shed a few tears when he read it, but that’s besides the point). “Over text, anyway.”

“Have you even tried calling them?”

“Well–”

“Call them. I’m sure they’d much rather hear from you than from me, their grumpy producer.”

“You’re not grumpy. You’re, you know, hard-with-a-lovable-interior.”

“Didn’t know my exterior was unlovable, but thank you for clarifying,” Zane huffs. “Go speak to them.”

“That’s not what I meant! And Zane, can’t you just–”

Zane hangs up on him.

Kevin groans into his hands.

~

Everybody leaps at the idea of coming back early. He’s not the only one bad at taking breaks, it seems.

~

They’re sitting around the table in Kevin’s air-conditioned office, a large cheese pizza between them, as they spitball ideas. Zane rocked up first, as he almost always does, soon followed by Aaron, who greets them both with a hug. Then Herm comes in, and Aaron and Kevin get to their feet together, hugging him, too. They exchange a few pleasantries, a few how was your break, good, how was yours?, until finally Denny drags in, right at ten o’clock.

Despite it being Winter, Denny’s melanin is even darker than usual, speaking to hours in the Brazilian sun. He’s got shades on, which he really doesn’t need when the clouds overhead keep threatening them with sleet, and is almost entirely dressed in black. He pauses at the doorway, surveying the scene from behind those impenetrable glasses, the slight raise of two fingers from the hold around his coffee cup the only form of greeting he offers.

Herm and Kevin get up to bring their sour plum into a hug. Aaron and Zane stay at the table, absorbed in their conversation.

“Wasn’t sure you’d come back,” Kevin jokes.

“What are you talking about?” Denny mutters, wriggling out of the side-hug. He’s not looking at Kevin, though, distracted by whatever’s going on at the table.

“The Mayor of Kingstown finale! You were incredible; you stole the show!”

Denny slides his gaze over to Kevin, grins, but even that is diverted, slipping back towards Aaron and Zane. “Thanks, man, I appreciate it.”

Zane spots him. Waves. Gestures for the lot of them to come over.

The table has plenty of seats, but Zane still switches from the one next to Aaron to the one across. It's a habit they all do subconsciously – outside of filming, Denny and Aaron drift towards each other like tiny, 5’7 magnets.

Denny sits next to Zane.

“Them Australians treat you nicely?” He asks, turning so warm and charming that the flicker of confusion dissipates from Zane's face almost instantly.

Kevin tilts his head and sits next to Aaron, who's already launched into a story from the tour.

“-and then Herm actually assaulted a fan–”

“I threw a water bottle into the crowd! It's not my fault they can't catch!”

“And it hit them?!” Kevin exclaims. 

Herm shrugs. “Well, they could've ducked.”

“No, dog, you pelted that shit.”

Herm rolls his eyes, a good-natured grin gracing his face.

Zane claps his hands together, bringing the conversations to a halt. He looks at them all, rubbing his hands, excitement radiating outwards. They all pick up on it – all of them creatives in their own right, and all susceptible to the contagious joy that comes from beginning a new project. 

“Let’s get pitching, then.”

“Well, easy one, though it’s overdone, we can do another Guess the Black Person,” Kevin says. The others nod. “You know, I’ve been thinking about making it a bit more competitive, since we’re normally so good at it anyway.”

“Oh, I saw you commenting that,” Aaron adds. “Like against the Beta Squad, you mean?”

“If they’ll agree to it. Otherwise, we could split into teams, but I think it’d be better to do a collab of some sort.”

“Agreed,” Zane says. “It’d be a good way to kick off the season if we can arrange that in time.”

Kevin stands to add it to the whiteboard next to number one. It looks pathetically small against the expanse of clean plastic. They’ve still got forty-three more ideas to come up with. Well, realistically, they only need ten to give them something to work with, as they’ll be filming throughout the year and will probably come up with something better, but it never hurts to have a fallback.

“What about Guessing the Real Joy?” Denny says. “Didn’t people request that for, like, ages?”

“Yeah, but the issue is, it’s a bit niche.” 

Kevin and Zane have talked about this extensively and have settled on parking the idea. As much as they adore Joy, their goal for this year is to grow, and to do that, every damn video needs to escape their little bubble.

“Maybe a KL2 video, then,” Denny relents. Kevin looks to Zane, who writes it down in his notes.

“Are we also coming up with KL2 videos?” Aaron asks.

Zane shrugs. “If you’ve got good ideas, let me know, but that’s not the main priority.”

“Why don’t we do a sport one? Guess the professional basketballer?”

“Herm, you’d get that instantly,” Kevin says.

“Alright, college basketballer, then.”

Kevin adds it to the board, but doesn’t feel confident in it.

“Maybe something more specialised?” He hedges. He hates vetoing people’s ideas. Kevin isn’t as good as the rest of them are at this. He’s only got a vague sense of what is and isn’t good content. But the others, they’ve got this knack for comedy.

“Professional juggler?” Aaron says.

Denny saves Kevin from the job of shooting him down. “Too similar to the Guess the Talent video.”

“Guess the Australian,” Zane suggests. “Since Kevin’s really bad at the accent, we probably won’t get it straight away.”

“Herm and I are actually planning on going to Australia at some point this year!” Aaron says.

“Yeah, we know, you told us.”

Kevin eyes Denny. He seems more irritable than usual. 

Herm leans over to Aaron. “He’s just jealous. He’s scared of the kangaroos – too tall for him.”

“You’re saying this to Aaron?” Denny laughs. “If anyone’s gotta be scared of the fauna, it’s him! He’ll fuck a koala and get chlamydia or something.”

Everyone but Aaron laughs.

“At least I don’t look like a quokka.”

Everyone frowns.

“You guys don’t know what a quokka is?”

Kevin googles it and barks out a laugh. “Aaron, this is literally you, what are you talking about?”

He spins his phone around to the others, sending them into hysterics.

“Oh, come on!” Aaron throws his hands up, exasperated. “Okay, whatever, my girlfriend said we should do Guess the Nail Tech. It’d be a funny activity round, all of us getting bad manicures.”

Denny pulls a face. “Why the fuck do you want us to get manicures?”

“I don’t! It’d just be funny!”

Herm also looks weirded out. “Aaron, you know you can just get one yourself if you want it so badly?”

“No, no, I like it!” Kevin adds it to the whiteboard. 

“Fine,” Denny says, “as long as we can preface the video by saying Aaron pitched it.”

“Watch it be the best video of the season!” Aaron huffs.

Zane nods. “Yeah, I like it. Tatyana will be a good panelist for that one.”

“Mhmm, the two lesbians will hit it off, ain’t that right, A-Boogie?”

“Hey, man,” Aaron chuckles, “at least I got an idea on the board. Last I checked, your idea was relegated to the second channel.”

“On the show, sure, but at least my other ideas aren’t fucking braindead.”

Kevin frowns at Denny. The comment seems different from his usual banter, but he says it without looking at Aaron, with no real heat. Still, it’s a strange thing to say.

Aaron ignores it.

“We could also do Guess the Drag Queen.”

Herm leans back in his chair. “Alright, Aaron, what’s up with you? You got something you wanna tell us?”

“It’s a good idea!”

“It is, but, my God.” Herm shakes his head.

Kevin adds it to the board. He doesn’t want to say he loves the idea out loud, but Aaron’s right. It’s a banging idea.

“Well, do you have anything, Einstein?”

“You need to stop comparing people to things that could be your identical twin, Aaron.”

“At least it shows that I value my family.” 

That, too, isn’t said to anyone in particular, but Kevin gets the sense that Aaron’s somehow directed that at Denny. He isn’t sure how he knows – it’s not like Denny reacts. And Aaron says it while laughing, so even though it’s another odd comment, it’s not like he can call out the fact that something seems off.

“What about Match the Dog to the owner?” Denny suggests.

“Dogs are too joyful, man,” Zane says. “It’ll probably run over to its owner straight away.”

“Cats, then. Cats don’t give a shit about anything.” Denny gets this look on his face, the sort of vacant one he gets right before he says something cutting.

Kevin writes it down.

Aaron beats him to the joke. “Kinda like you, then.”

Now that gets a reaction. Denny laughs, but it’s cold and short, and he tilts his chin upwards as he stares down Aaron. “Funny, because it seems like I’m the only one who gives a shit.”

Kevin turns back to the table.

Speaking of cats…

There’s two in the room right now, hackles raised, hissing but not making the move to strike, staring at each other. But then Herm leans across Kevin’s empty chair, resting his hand on the back of Aaron’s chair, and Denny looks away.

“...Right,” Zane says. “So that’s four ideas. From a casting perspective, professions are the easiest to do, so I say we keep going along Aaron’s train of thought and come up with other wacky ones.”

“Guess the Comedian.”

“We’ve done that, Aaron, and we’ll probably end up knowing the comedian.”

“Guess the Paramedic,” Herm suggests. Kevin writes it down.

“Guess the Celebrity Dog-Walker,” Denny says. “There’s a lot of those types in L.A.”

“True, but what is it with you and dogs today?” Kevin writes it down anyway.

“I like ‘em better than quokkas, that’s for sure.”

“Quokkas are cuter,” Aaron snipes back.

“Alright, rodent.”

“Alright, chihuahua.”

“Alright, children,” Zane intervenes. “Eat some pizza and calm down, would you?”

Denny and Aaron move in sync, each leaning to grab a slice of pizza. They see each other, and their hands freeze mid-air, eyeing the other.

“I’m gonna grab a Celsius,” Aaron says, scraping his chair backwards to escape to the kitchen. 

Kevin caps his pen. Denny looks as if he’s unbothered, eyebrows raised, staring at the whiteboard, but he doesn’t really look like he’s paying attention as he chews his staring contest prize.

“Denny,” Herm says.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Are you and Aaron alright?”

Denny screws up his face, sliding his gaze over to Herm. “‘Course we are. We’re just joking around, like always.”

“Are you?” Kevin asks. “Joking, that is?”

“No, Kev, he’s actually a rodent,” Denny responds sarcastically. “Fuck you mean by that?”

“Well, it’s just–” Kevin hesitates. Denny and Aaron have a special bond, one that the rest of them can only see the surface of. When asked, they both give different answers about why they’re so close, and it varies each time.

Denny will usually say that Aaron looked like a stray dog shaking on the comedy stage and that he felt bad for him, but when he’s being more sincere, he’ll venture some compliment about Aaron’s personality.

Aaron’s default is sincere, at least it was when Kevin first met him (they’ve corrupted that out of him, now). Over the past two years of getting to know each other, Kevin’s heard countless versions of, “Denny’s a great guy,” “He’s always been there for me,” “He looked out for me,” “He’s basically my older brother.”

But he’s always gotten the sense that there’s something deeper than that for both of them. Something they both protect, close to their core, and something that no matter how close the rest of them get, they’re cautious about letting others see it. 

So, it’s probably not his place to speak on it. It’s like Herm said to him once, when Kevin was new to their dynamic and kept stressing that they had taken a joke too far, that the other was actually pissed off this time:

“Denny and Aaron, they’re family.”

“‘Just’ what?” Denny asks.

“Ah, nothing. As long as you two are fine.”

“We’re fine. Everything is fine.”

Aaron returns with his Celsius, a mischievous grin on his face, and he darts towards Kevin.

Kevin runs on instinct.