Strong Bad and Tycho were playing poker with the other two. But Tycho couldn't keep his mind on the cards. How could he, if he had to stare at that sexy crimson egg-shaped face all day? He watched how Strong Bad's boxing glove hands deftly handled the King of Clubs. How delicate and swollen they were. He thought about how his penis might feel in those boxing glove hands. Incidentally, his penis was also called the King of Clubs.
Tycho looked at his hand. He had the best hand that poker could have. He had all the suits and all the numbers. He had them all in a row, without even trying. But he didn't care about that right now. All he could care about was Strong Bad's perfectly round body. Where did Strong Bad's back end, and his ass begin? Tycho looked forward to finding out.
Strong Bad was having trouble of his own. He had the King of Clubs, but not any of the other cards. Someone must have them all. He knew it must be Tycho and not the other two jerks he didn't care about at all. But how could he stand to look at Tycho's square, milky face? That mess of tawny hair, hanging so delicately above his sarcastically half-lidded cartoon eyes. He couldn't wait to hear him make a joke about videogames. That gave him a super boner.
Finally, Tycho knew he had to make a move. "I fold," he said sexily, saying in a sexy voice the kind of thing poker players sometimes say.
Strong Bad was shocked. His square mouth fell open, but you couldn't really tell. He knew Tycho must have the best most powerful cards in poker, because he didn't have them. But Tycho was folding, which means he loses or something. Why would he do such a thing? Why?
Could it possibly be... for him?
Later that night, the other two jerks had left to go do something stupid. Strong Bad and Tycho were left in the warm, dark poker room.
"Holy Crap, you are bad at poker," Strong Bad teased in his sexy, gravelly vaguely-Mexican or something voice.
Tycho pouted, his lower lip trembling. "Why do you have to be so mean?"
Strong Bad's emotionless face fell, somehow. He had never considered how his cutting barbs might hurt someone he cared about.
Tycho's face broke into its signature wavy-toothed smile. "C'mon, I'm just kidding. You know I can't stay mad at you."
Strong Bad's heart leapt.
Tycho looked into Strong Bad's angry, green, glowy fake eyes. They were like emerald pools he wanted to swim naked in forever and ever until he died.
Strong Bad looked into Tycho's little black eyes. They were, as usual, looking sarcastic. But could it be, this time, that the sarcasm was tinged with something else? Something like... love?
A wealth of sexy, romantic information was exchanged in that one glance. These two extremely well-developed characters had a lot of ground to cover in their relationship. Tycho's childhood abuse and shame at his own sexuality, which were very important and very canon issues. Strong Bad's loneliness, which he tried to cover with cocky, devil-may-care bravado. There was a whole shit-ton of angst that only the two of them could understand.
But there would be time for that later.
They fucked on the poker table. Tycho was on top.