[fanfic] Super Bowl Sunday, or Matt Parkman's Big Gay Coming-Out Party

[tiptoe39]

Title: Super Bowl Sunday, or Matt Parkman's Big Gay Coming-Out Party
Author: tiptoe39
Rating: PG-13 for language and raunchy humor
Summary: This be Silly WAFFness living in the World Where Nothing Is Wrong.



"So remind me again why we have to have a Super Bowl party?" Mohinder asked crankily as Matt pulled the extra kitchen chairs into the den.

"Because it is Super Bowl Sunday and that is what you do," he explained.

Mohinder stuck his head into the refrigerator and sighed at what he found. "Yes, but why does that mean we have to open up this rather cramped apartment and invite four sweaty policemen in here to eat chili and drink God-awful beer?"

Matt grabbed him from behind and pulled him out. The refrigerator door swung closed, and the offending beer cans jangled in their case. "Number one, it's not God-awful beer. Number two, they're not sweaty, and number three, because you looooooooooooove me." He kissed Mohinder for a long moment.

Then Molly came through the room singing "Super Bowl, Dooper Bowl, Pooper Scooper Looper Bowl..."

"Oh, that's just lovely," Mohinder grumbled, prying himself out of Matt's arms and turning his back.

Matt shushed Molly and put his hand gently on Mohinder's waist, his face going soft. "Mohinder, what are you so mad about? What's wrong with a couple of the guys coming over?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong with it," he snapped, whirling. "I'm going to have to pretend to be just a roommate to you for three hours, and I won't even have any decent alcohol with which to drown my sorrows!"

This dumbfounded Matt. "I never said you had to pretend anything!"

Mohinder arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "What, are you telling me they know?"

At this, Matt stopped. He shuffled his feet. "Well, no," he admitted, "not exactly. But, I mean, half of them don't know my eye color, either. So what's the difference?""

"Matt." Mohinder said his name flatly. "Having brown eyes is not going to put you in danger of losing your job."

"They can't fire me for being gay!"

"Not officially," retorted Mohinder. "They can't officially fire you for being gay. They can, however, find another excuse."

Matt grabbed him. "Oh, for God's sake, Mohinder, shut UP!" he said, planting his lips over his to demonstrate the concept. When he finally let go, Mohinder was flushed and panting. "Did it ever occur to you that I want to show you off?" he said, his face still just a breath away.

Mohinder gulped. The sincerity, the affection were almost too much to take. He felt that familiar sense of wonder, that swooping sensation like he'd just been thrown off a cliff only to discover he could fly. Matt kept doing that to him. Every time he thought it was just his own desires running this show, that Matt couldn't possibly want him the way Mohinder wanted him, he did something like this and everything got jumbled.

"What about me? Do you want to show me off?" said a voice at his waist. The world came rocketing back into focus.

"You?" Matt picked her up with a groan. "You're the main attraction," he declared. "In fact, I'm thinking of locking you in your room until halftime. We'll wheel you out on a big float and throw confetti at you." He tossed her over his shoulder and started marching toward her room.

She beat her little fists on his back. "Whaaaaat? No way. I wanna meet your friends!" Mohinder laughed as he growled like a big grizzly bear and finally set her down, grumbling.

When he'd returned to the kitchen, Mohinder was waiting for him with a half-smile. "Matt, are you sure about this?" he asked.

Matt stared him down. "No," he admitted. "I'm very not sure." Mohinder felt his heart sink for a brief moment. "But this is how I look at it, OK?" Matt went on, pouring salsa into a small bowl. "If I don't have a Super Bowl party, I'm not being myself. And if I can't be myself at my own Super Bowl party..." He set the jar down and walked over to Mohinder. Looked him straight in the eye. "...Then it's not these guys who have the problem. It's me."

Mohinder let out a long breath, smiled, and leaned forward to brush their lips together. "Just don't make me eat chili," he pleaded. "Or drink God-awful beer."

"Since when is Sam Adams God-awful?"

"Since colonial times, I believe," said Mohinder as the bell rang.

Matt left the kitchen and went for the door. "You fail your citizenship test," he shouted back. "Sam Adams came a few hundred years after colonial times." He opened the door and a cacophony of low, rumbling male voices came in along with a bunch of heavy footsteps. Matt's voice gained several decibels. "Hey, Mack. Holy-- that's the biggest thing of chips I've ever seen. Jason, buddy, c'mon in. Still rooting for the Pats? Your loss, man. Oh!" He raised his voice to shout into the other room. "Hey, Mohinder, he brought Bud! You can't go wrong with Bud, right?"

Mohinder peeked out from the kitchen. "I suppose it'll do," he said with exaggerated disdain.

And he was greeted by four blank stares.

"Who's that?" said one of the guys, finally.

And that's when Matt's nerve up and disappeared. Mohinder could have sworn he saw it crash to the floor. Along with his hopes.

"Oh. Um." The most eloquent two words Mohinder could have possibly expected of him were followed by the great indignity of having his name nearly forgotten. "That's... Mohinder. I'm sorry. Dr. Mohinder Suresh. He's, uh..."

Time to nip this little nightmare in the bud. "I'm Matt's roommate," he said, walking toward the four strangers with an outstretched hand. "Nice to meet you all."

Matt stared at him for a moment, then indicated his friends. "This is Mack, Henry, Jason, Ty." He gestured to each in turn, then reversed the motion. "Mohinder." He looked between them for an awful moment, then grabbed the six-pack of Bud from his friend's hand. "Let me, uh, put this stuff in the fridge to cool."

Mohinder indicated that they should make themselves comfortable in the den, then walked into the kitchen to find Matt with his head in his hands, leaning against the counter. "Being yourself already, I see," he said dryly.

He got a glare for the remark. "You're the one who did that. Not me," accused Matt.

A flush of heat made Mohinder's throat constrict. "I don't see you rushing to correct them," he pointed out.

From the other room, a shout: "Hey, Matt, can we turn the TV on?"

"Feel free," Matt shouted back. He and Mohinder stared at each other for several painfully tense moments, listening to the chatter in the other room and feeling like the world was about to end.

"Hello, Matt's friends!" The shout accompanied a rush of running feet.

The guys shouted greetings. "Oh hey! This must be Molly!" said one.

"That's me."

"Matt talks about you all the time," commented another.

Molly giggled. But Mohinder winced. Matt gasped as he caught the tail end of his thoughts:

But not me.

"Oh, shit," he said. He stared at his hands for a moment, then walked back out into the living room. Mohinder peeked out from the doorway in trepidation.

"You're bald," Molly was saying to the one named Ty as Matt walked over purposefully to the semicircle of chairs and couch.

"Shaved bald," he corrected. "By choice and not by circumstance."

"Guys, wait. Wait. Hold on," Matt said, waving his arms.

"Can I touch it?" Molly said, reaching out a tentative hand. Matt flailed some more.

"Ahaha, that's what all the ladies say..." Mack nudged Ty, who leaned his head forward for Molly to rub. Everybody laughed.

"Wait, guys. Guys, hold on." Matt still couldn't get their attention. He looked around desperately for something that might make a difference. Finally, he resorted to desperate measures.

He turned off the TV.

A round of groans hit him at full volume. "What the hell?" Mack said.

"There's, uh..." If you had shone a full spotlight on Matt at that point, he couldn't have sweated any more profusely. Despite himself, Mohinder chuckled. Matt cleared his throat. "There's another reason I wanted you all to come over." His eyes found Mohinder's across the hall for a split second, and he balled up one hand into a fist. "Uh..."

"Well, what is it? We're missing the coin toss, man!" said Henry, annoyed.

"I..."

Molly got up and moved to his side. Took his hand and looked up at him.

Mohinder ducked back into the kitchen. He was content with just hearing it. Now that she was there, he knew he had nothing to worry about.

"I wanted you to meet my family," Matt said decisively. "Guys... Mohinder's my boyfriend."

At the words, Mohinder clapped his hands over his mouth to stop from screaming or crying or something to control the explosion of emotion in his heart. But he was the only one making a sound. The silence in the other room was absolutely deafening.

"So," Matt said, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. "Coin toss. Right." More silence. "Wrong?"

Still no sound. Just some uncomfortable rustling, shifting on the chairs and couch.

Then Matt's voice took a decidedly different tone. "Right, let's see." he declared authoritatively. "First things first, no, I don't look at any of you in the locker room. Yes, he's my first. Yes, I'm in love with him. No, it's not a mistake. Best decision of my life, in fact. The one..." His voice softened again. "The one thing I got right."

Mohinder bit his lip. He thought his heart was going to fly out of the top of his head and drift into orbit.

"OK, now sit your fat gay ass down so we can watch the fucking game," said one of the guys.

"Do you mind? My daughter is in the room!" Matt said. Mohinder laughed.

"I know that word already," Molly piped up.

"Yeah, and if I ever hear you even think it..." Only Molly and Mohinder knew just how potent that threat was in this household.

"You'll wash my mind out with soap, I know, I know," she said wearily.

"She's cute," said Ty.

The TV was turned back on. The announcers were shouting nonsense. "Yeah, I kinda think so," Matt agreed. "Can I get anyone a beer?"

It took an eternity for Matt to re-enter the kitchen, because the guys kept shouting and the ball kept getting fumbled and Tom Brady kept getting knocked down. But then there was a dumb ad on TV and he finally made it. His cheeks were flushed pink.

"OK," he pleaded, "you have to help me keep Molly up till they're gone, because get a few beers in these guys and if she's not there in the room they are gonna lose the filter between brain and mouth and start asking me all the lewd questions they're thinking about anal sex, and I can't handle it."

"Thank you," said Mohinder simply.

Matt grinned at him. Mohinder came to him and gave him the sweetest kiss he knew how to give.

"Sorry it took me so long," stuttered Matt when it was done. Mohinder leaned his head against Matt's shoulder, and they stood in the embrace for a long, beautiful moment.

"So should I..." said Mohinder as he helped Matt get the beers out.

"What?"

Now it was his turn to blush. "Should I join you?"

Matt didn't see the issue. "'Course, why not?"

But Mohinder was feeling very much like he was possibly the luckiest man in all of existence. Could he press his luck any further tonight? Could he dare hope that Matt would actually treat him like a boyfriend in front of his friends? And could he stand the rejection if he didn't?

Then there was Matt forehead bumping against Mohinder forehead. "You could just ask," Matt said, smirking.

Mohinder blushed. "Will you... will you sit with me?" He already knew the answer. It was in Matt's eyes.

Matt slung an arm around his shoulder. "Honey, I'll sit on your LAP if you want me to," he declared.

"Oh, God, no. I wouldn't survive," Mohinder muttered. "Your 'fat gay ass' is a blunt instrument."

They smiled, gathered up the beers, and rejoined the party.

:the end!: