Work Text:
"Welcome back to the Basement Yard. I-"
"Joe, how are ya, ba–buh-beh-b-babe? Shit.”
"...Episode’s over."
"No, wait, fuck, I can do this, I can!"
"What are you– what was that, why'd you stutter on BABE? You're like a, a fuckin’ nervous little middle schooler."
"Joey, I call you babe literally all the time."
"You do. I forget where that even came from."
"It doesn't have to come from anywhere, it's just a– a term of endearment. It comes from the heart, babe."
"What, you... you endear me?"
"Yes, I do! I endear you and I love you, Joe."
"...Okay."
"What is that– why do you never say it back?! He never says it back because he doesn't love me."
"Why do I have to say it?! Haven't you heard of the fuckin’, uh… the acts of service, physical touch?"
"Oh, whatever, your stupid little love language isn't words, good for you. But guess what, you never touch me or do anything for me either.”
"Frankie, you order me around like a DOG. Don't sit there and tell me I don't do anything for you in– in this relationship."
"You know what it is? You know what it is?"
"What? What is it?"
"You wanna know?"
"Yeah, I would love to know what the fuck it is."
"I'll tell you!"
"SO SAY IT!"
"I WANT TO SAY IT, BUT YOU KEEP FUCKING INTERRUPTING ME!"
"I'M ANSWERING YOUR QUESTIONS, I'M–"
"NO THE FUCK YOU'RE NOT, YOU INTERRUPTED– YOU'RE INTERRUPTING ME RIGHT NOW–"
"–RESPONDING TO YOU LIKE A GODDAMN NORMAL PERSON, YOU FREAK–"
"–LOOK AT YOU, YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN TO SHUT–"
"–I AM LETTING YOU SAY IT, I AM GIVING YOU–"
"–THE HELL UP JOEY, SHUT UP AND LET ME SPEAK–"
"–PERMISSION TO SPEAK, SO SAY IT NOW."
"..."
"What were we even– Oh, I think you love me but you don't say you love me because you're fucking traumatized."
"...I'm traumatized."
"Yeah, that's right, I said it. You're conditioned to be afraid of being gay because being made fun of for it was all there fucking was in 2004, 2005."
"I mean, you couldn't even– like, own a poodle without being called gay."
"Exactly, and now you're still afraid of looking gay. You have, uh, internalized homophobia, as the kids call it."
"As the kids– I'm not a fucking homophobe, Frank, what would– what would you even know about internalized homophobia, you... cisgendered bitch?"
"THAT WAS TRANSPHOBIC. TRANS-PHOBE, TRANS-PHOBE, EVERYONE GET HIM."
"...I am going to beat the absolute shit out of you."
"Do it. I beg. Also, you know what's weird, is everyone was afraid of being gay–"
"But now it's accepted? That's weird, Frankie?"
"It's incredible and you know it, bitch. Anyway, everyone used to be afraid of looking gay, but now there's like, that kissing the homies thing. Like, it did a one-eighty from bad to good.”
“I actually really like that it became a thing, like now it's just normal to cuddle your buds. Don't gotta worry."
"No, I get it, isn't it so–"
"Like, you get on the couch with your bros and get all close, put an arm around each other–"
"Kiss 'em a little."
"NO."
"Babe, it's not gay to kiss the homies."
"Then what is it? What is it, if not gay?"
"It's a platonic expression of love between friends and you never do it with me and therefore you don't love me."
"...I don't love you because I don't kiss you on the fucking mouth?"
"Well, that's part of it, but YOU NEVER EVEN SAY IT!"
"Frankie, if I wanted to kiss you in the last... three decades, I would've fucking done it by now."
"But you admit there's a universe where you do want to kiss me."
"Dude, there's a universe where I, like, chop off your dick and staple it to my forehead."
"Joe, I think this needs to happen. Not the forehead thing, the other thing.”
"...Thanks for clarifying. You– so you want me to kiss you, but like, it's not gay."
"Precisely."
"Who the hell says precisely, you... Jimmy Neutron motherfucker? Frankie, everyone already thinks we're gay for each other. I'm not CONFIRMING IT!"
"YOU AREN'T CONFIRMING ANYTHING BECAUSE IT'S PLATONIC LOVE. WE WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT KISSING THE HOMIES."
"How would you even go about this, Frankie? Do you expect me to lean over the table and fuckin'... shove my tongue down your disgusting throat?"
"My throat is pristine, you whore, and I would come around that table and kiss you so very tenderly."
"Like– like, a quick peck? A little mwah? How long we talking here?"
"I dunno, like, six seconds."
"SIX SECONDS?!"
"That's like, how long it should last to create a meaningful bond!"
"Who the fuck said that?! I have never heard that in my LIFE."
"I'll have you know it was some really fuckin' smart... love doctor, or some shit!"
"Ohh, thanks, Frankie, that's really helpful what the FUCK IS A LOVE DOCTOR?!"
"IT'S LITERALLY SCIENTIFICALLY PROVEN THAT OXYMORON IS RELEASED AT SIX SECONDS."
"Frankie.”
“What?”
“It's fucking oxytocin."
"Oh shit."
"What the fuck. The kid can remember internalized homophobia and not oxytocin, dumb... stupid idiot."
"Oh my god, I'm– I can't breathe. It's six seconds, please believe me, Joey."
"Wait, you want to kiss for the amount of time to release the love hormone! You're admitting you want me to fall in love with you!"
"Jesus, it's platonic! Platonic love!"
"Right. A friendly six second kiss. Hey, guess what, you have a wife and children and you're about to ruin your goddamn life.”
“Dude, Becca is the fucking coolest person on earth, and she is so okay with this because she understands that our strangely homoerotic relationship is still platonic. She– she encourages this shit.”
“She told you, ‘Hey Frankie, you can kiss Joe on the mouth for six seconds?’”
“I mean, I know she's okay with it. She thinks it's hilarious. I’ll fuckin’– I’ll fucking text her to prove it.”
“Do it! Ask her if our sweet hot kiss would be just SO hilarious. Just a fun little… fun little oxymoron release with nothing behind it.”
"Five. We can do five seconds so you don't turn gay for me, since you seem to be so sure that'll happen. Fuckin’ acting like you're on the… the fence of bisexuality right now. You know what? I think you can’t kiss me because you're afraid."
"I'm not fucking afraid, you fuck. I could kiss you, I just don't want to because you're a... a freakish little, grody little man."
"I don't think you could. You are afraid. You couldn't even kiss me for FOUR seconds.”
"Oh, I would rock your goddamn world, but you know what, I'm not going to."
“Dude, look, she said yes! We have mommy’s fucking permission, and I won't believe that you can rock my world until you prove it. Four seconds."
"ONE second. TWO at the most."
"Three. Wait, you're– you're actually doing this?"
"Shut. I'm getting my phone."
"Alright, you don't have to be a goddamn drama queen and actually time it."
"I'm not letting you get any more than what we agreed, you greedy slut."
"Okay. I'm– well, I'm gonna come over there now. To your side of the table."
“I hate this already. You don't– you don't belong on this side.”
“Well guess what, racist, I’m crossing over the border with my lovely chair anyway, and you can't stop me.”
"Jesus christ. This is… possibly the worst way to kiss someone.”
“What? On camera, with millions watching, including your family and friends?”
“That, and we’re sitting in separate chairs facing each other like fuckin’ Italian grandparents in the living room."
"Cause you'd look like a pathetic little bottom if I had to stand and lean down to kiss you. Wait, turn like, that way so the people can see."
“Getting the best angle for the audience now? You know, you're queerbaiting. You're a sick queerbaiter."
"Fucking sue me. How do you wanna– should I hold your face? I'm holding your face. Dude, don't just have your arms in your lap like wet little noodles."
"Frankie, I'm gonna kill myself. Okay, I'm starting the timer. Holy shit."
"Dude, you're like, shaking right now. Why do I– sorry, I'm laughing. Why do I feel like I feel like I'm forcing you into this?"
"No, I'm gonna fucking do it, hold on, you overeager fuck. Okay, timer starts... now."
"Go."
"..."
"Go."
"..."
"JESUS, that alarm scared the shit out of me. Hey Joe, I don't know if you know this, but you were supposed to kiss me."
"AAAAAHAHAHAHA! AHHH!"
"What the fuck was that, dude? It's like you were a– a magnet repelling me."
"HAHAHA WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?! WHY CAN’T I– NO, NO, I'M GONNA DO IT. SHIT."
"Joey, you have literal tears in your eyes."
"Shut up. Shut up. Alright. Okay."
"Calm down and breathe, bitch. You got this, Joey, come on."
"Okay, okay, okay. Start nnnow."
"..." (silent three-second kiss (oddly gentle?))
"..."
"..." (silent pulling back and staring at each other in horror)
"..."
"AAAAAAHAHAHAHA! AAAAHHH!"
"AAAAAAAHH!"
"WHATTHEFUCKHAHAHAHAHA?!"
"OH GOD. Oh my god. Oh god."
"I'm– fuck, my stomach hurts."
"I'm crying, what the hell."
"Dude, Frankie, why was that kinda..."
"Yeah, I kinda– I kinda felt a little something??"
“What the hell is– WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!”
“Like, there was– not like, fireworks, but–”
“Yeah, like one of those lame ones that sits on the ground and shoots a... piss stream of little sparks.”
“Dude, those fucking SUCK. I was gonna say the little snapper things that you fuckin’, uh... whip at people’s feet. Wait, you felt sparks, Joey?”
“Ohhhhmmggod. I’m– that's it, this is the funniest thing we've ever done.”
“No, don't fucking avoid this! You went like, almost a full second over the timer, you were– you were INTO it. Dude, you're– why are you, like, hyperventilating?”
“Cause I'm never gonna be able to look you in the eye again without laughing, I’m freaking out. This is so bad. What the fuck."
"Joey. Joey, look at me. Nothing has changed. This is the... the manifestation of our platonic love over the years. Just homies kissing homies, okay? Say it with me."
“Frankie.”
“Say it with me, hhhhhh–”
"Hhhomies... kissing... homies."
"I feel– I feel weird now. I'm gonna lose sleep, Frankie. Gonna have fuckin’ nightmares about your mustache."
"Man, I am– I’m so glad to be the subject of your first gay crisis."
"Don't call it that."
"Hey Joey, can you say it now?"
"What?"
"Let's try it again. Joe... I love you."
"...Alright."
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
“DUDE, WE JUST–"