Gently

Looking down at me, he stretches, then gives me a firm smack. Not hard, nowhere near as hard as he could have, really as gentle a strike as he can while making sure it's still a slap and not a pat. The stinging pain makes my eyes flutter, rapidly.

“Ow, hey, that stings, y'know!” I say immediately, looking up at him, then looking around. “Uh, how long was I ... uh, out?” Norbert shrugs, before looking at his watch and then holding up two fingers, before he speaks to confirm my conclusion.

“About two hours, or so,” he says, “You were perfectly fine. I hung around to make sure you were okay, but Amy said you needed to be slapped to wake up, so ...” I blink at that, but then nod. It's a valid explanation, Amy's coding made it needed.

“Oh, all right,” I reply, and he holds his hands out to me. I take his hands and he pulls me gently to my feet, then smiles at me. He's always had a nice smile, the comforting and reassuring kind, which was the whole reason we ended up friends.

“Well, I should probably get home,” I say, but he shakes his head and holds up his hand, “Oh? Or ... what?”

“I recently learned to bake cookies,” he replies, “Like, from scratch, an' shit, not, like, from a prepared box kit or that shit. Why don't you come hang out for a while, instead, faggot?” I blink in response, then smile. I will never say no to cookies.

“Hell yes,” I confirm, and follow him home. He's evidently already made them, which maybe is the reason he came out to look for me, I guess? They're sitting in a nice neat conical pyramid on a plate on the counter, looking totally untouched.

It's a pleasant couple hours, at the minimum, before I have to get going. The twins will already be out by now, but there'll be someone home, but whether it's mom or dad, I have no way to know, until I get home. Either way, I stand , stretching.

“Well, your cookies are amazing, but I should get home,” I say, and he sighs, but he nods, escorting me to the front door.

“I totally understand, faggot,” he replies, and I smile happily, “But it was nice having you over. Thanks for the feedback on my cookies. Not exactly a thorough review, or anything, but, delighted to hear I did well enough to meet your standards.”

I grin at him, and he smiles, waving with one hand, “Go on, faggot, get home, now.”

—

Author's Note:
From here, the story continues with Chapter 10: Mom, based on poll results.
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