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Everyone in Barbieland knew Ken had been moping since Barbie left for the Real World. To be fair to him, he mostly tried to hide it, smiling and waving when people passed him and looking away morosely once he was out of sight, or rambling on about his journey to discovering himself and the slew of hobbies he'd recently taken up, only to come home and lay wrapped up in bed all evening. He'd been allowed to inherit Barbie's Dreamhouse once she moved, and he spent plenty of time inside it crying manly tears.
It made Allan sick, honestly.
All this talk about Ken discovering who he was without standing in Barbie's shadow, and now she was gone Ken still couldn't separate himself from her. The fact that Allan couldn't help but well up with tears every time he saw Ken cry had nothing to do with it. Everyone would be happier if Ken finally moved on; someone had to intervene. So one day when Allan strolled past Ken's house and saw him flopped miserably onto a couch, blankets piled around him despite the perfect, warm weather, he snapped. Allan supposed he was the best person for the job, anyway; he was Ken's best buddy. He could fit all of his clothes. Allan marched right through the door and up the shimmering pink steps, and yanked the fluffy blankets off of Ken's tanned, muscular body. Ken shrieked indignantly.
"Get up," Allan intoned. Ken squinted suspiciously at him with one open eye.
"Why?"
"Because watching you rot away here is too sad and pathetic, Ken, get up," he snapped, flicking the blanket at him. Ken rolled back over onto his stomach and mashed his face into the arm of the couch, moaning in despair.
"I'm not pathetic! I just don't want to get up. Leave me here to rot."
"We've already had Depression Barbie, we don't need Depression Ken too. Get up!" Allan huffed exasperatedly, but Ken was unmoving. Allan sighed and stepped away for a second, lips pressed thinly together and hands balled on his hips. Okay, think. The brusque, bossy approach hadn't worked. Think like Ken... what would convince him to snap out of his funk?
Allan crouched down next to the couch Ken was melodramatically flung across, and gently lay a sympathetic hand on his toned, golden shoulder. He had to change his approach.
"You must be really sad Barbie's gone," he said, voice oozing with sympathy. Ken peeked a brilliant blue eye at him.
"I am sad," he muttered.
"You've been very brave about it."
"I have been brave! Thanks Allan. I know crying isn't a shameful act, but I've been trying not to bum everyone out with it."
"Yeah, you've done a great job with that," Allan lied. Ken lifted his head up and smiled at him. Allan internally sighed at the fact that Ken was... simple enough to fall for this, but the thought didn't matter much because Ken's smiles were always blindingly beautiful, designed to be distractingly perfect even when small, like this one. Allan twitched a half-smile back and turned his sympathetic pat into a solid grip on Ken's arm, then tugged the blond doll upwards with force.
Ken stumbled as he was yanked off the couch and scrambled to get his feet under him, ending up with his hands gripping Allan's forearms. They blinked at each other, then Ken stepped back, shrugging it off and frowning sullenly at Allan.
"What do you want?" he grumbled.
"Let's do something together, Ken, I wanna hang out."
"You wanna hang out with me?" Ken repeated, hope lacing his voice, surprise and happiness lighting up his sky-coloured eyes. Allan unwittingly warmed and melted a bit.
"Yeah, of course. Why don't we go to Beach? You love Beach, I feel like I haven't seen you there in ages."
"I do love Beach," Ken replied. "I'm very good at it."
"You sure are, buddy." Allan clapped him on the shoulder and led him towards the stairs. "You're the best at Beach there is." Ken grinned toothily at him (all teeth perfectly straight, white and sparkling, of course), and ran a hand through his blond locks in consideration. Allan watched and swallowed.
"Alright," Ken acquiesced. "I guess a little walk couldn't hurt."
"It'll cheer you up in no time," Allan assured him, and honestly hoped it was true.
When they arrived at Beach the sun was shining, the water was a brilliant blue, the sand was soft, there was barely a cloud in the sky, and dozens of Barbies and Kens were milling around in cute, brightly coloured swimming outfits. It was the same as it is every day: perfect. They soaked it in together for a moment, and when Allan turned to look at Ken the other man had his eyes closed and his face tilted up to the sky, lit up by warm sunbeams. It made Ken's tan look amazing, all the way down his chest, to where his abs were exposed under the denim vest he was wearing. Wow, it was a really hot day today, actually. Allan looked away, waved at some Barbies and Kens, and when he looked back Ken was smiling, blue eyes locked onto him.
"So," Ken said, "what did you wanna do?"
"I don't really know," Allan admitted. He didn't really live his life on the same repeated beat-by-beat schedule many Barbies and Kens did–he wasn't always invited to every big blowout party–so he hadn't really thought this far ahead. He was determined to cheer Ken up and not be awkward, though.
"You're the Beach expert," Allan said. "What's your favourite thing to do here?" Ken pursed his lips and looked analytically around the beach.
"Well," he said, leading them over to a particular patch of sand, "I like to stand here, because the lighting makes my muscles look great."
"Of course," Allan nodded, "you have excellent muscles." He knew; he'd admired Ken's muscles while he stood in this exact sunny spot many times before. Ken smiled, momentarily delighted.
"Thanks, bro!" he said, and flexed. Allan smiled tightly.
"So... do you just stand here the whole time, or..." Allan questioned. Ken hummed.
"Well, sometimes if I'm feeling daring, or— or trying to impress Barbie, I'll try to surf, but some of those waves are really rough out there," Ken admitted, scratching the back of his head. Allan cast a dubious glance at the unmoving blue plastic waves of the ocean, but remembered how Ken had gone flying through the air the last time he tried.
"Maybe let's not do that one," he said, wincing. "Anything else?"
"I've been getting really into sand castles lately," Ken said.
"Of course you have," Allan sighed. Ken gave him a jolly thumbs up, then a burst of bright sparkles erupted over him as he magically changed into a pair of hot pink swimming trunks. Allan knelt down in the sand, then glanced back up at Ken, blinking against the halo of sunlight around him.
"Well? Are you gonna help me build this castle or what?" Ken beamed at him and dropped down next to him, slender fingers scraping through the pale pink sand.
"This Ken and Allan Palace is going to be the best sand castle Barbieland has ever seen," Ken said seriously, and Allan laughed, bumping him with his shoulder.
"Heck yeah it is. Let's do it."
Their one-on-one sandcastle building had inevitably turned into a spontaneous sandcastle building competition for the whole beach. Ken and Allan worked hard on their shared castle, adding as many turrets and towers and shell decorations as they could. Ken's toned arms got doused with cool, sparkling water when he filled the moat, and Allan's mouth coincidentally went dry around the same time.
Afterwards they went off giggling to get ice creams together, Ken begging Allan to let them trade cones so they could try each others' flavours. Allan resisted for as long as he could before reluctantly giving in. When they reached Ken's house again Allan stared, transfixed, as Ken lifted his hand to his own mouth and licked off the pink, melted bubblegum ice cream that dribbled over his knuckles and down his palm. Then he wiped his hand neatly on his shirt, both of which appeared miraculously clean, and opened the door, ushering Allan in. The sun was setting, and Ken turned on the twinkly fairy lights by the tv and fluffed the bright pillows on the couch.
"Do you wanna stay over tonight?" he asked hopefully. Allan, perhaps against his better judgement, smiled and nodded, sitting on the couch and pulling a plush blanket into his lap. Ken slid into place next to him, tucking his knees up under him on the couch and curling his arm along the back before turning the TV on and gazing intently at Allan, head cradled dreamily in the crook of his arm. Allan stared steadfastly ahead at the blank, glowing TV screen for as long as he could, but the urge to turn grew on him like an itch, and finally he couldn't bear it anymore. He reluctantly looked back at Ken. The glow of the TV screen was more appealing reflected in Ken's cornflower eyes. The way he was gazing shamelessly at Allan made his plastic heart speed up, the air whisked away from his lungs. Ken was beautiful, obviously, and Allan was not immune.
"Hey," Ken smiled up at him, blatantly staring. Allan couldn't help but smile back.
"Hi," he said softly. "What do you wanna do?"
"To be honest, I'm not sure," Ken murmured. His gaze dropped down to Allan's lips heartstoppingly briefly, and Allan pushed down a thousand thoughts that tried to squirm into his head. He swallowed nervously and turned more in his seat to better face Ken. The highlights of his platinum hair glowed blue with the TV screen.
"I had a lot of fun today," Ken said. Allan's hands plucked nervously at the edge of the blanket.
"Me too," he admitted. "I like hanging out one-on-one with you, Ken." Ken perked up.
"I like spending time with you too, buddy!" he smiled. "That was probably the most fun I've had since Barbie left… I mean, coming third in the sandcastle competition, then having that group singing number with the mermaids, then getting the ice cream? It was the perfect day. Again. Obviously." He beamed up at Allan. Allan smiled warmly back.
"I'm just happy you're happy again." Allan reached out and teasingly ruffled his hand through Ken's hair, who chuckled and ducked his head.
"Thanks, Allan." Ken sighed and looked away thoughtfully. "Y'know, I've never actually had a sleepover before. I tried to stay the night with Barbie a lot, but every night was girl's night," he reflected morosely. Allan sighed internally, but nudged his knee comfortingly into Ken's.
"Well, this is like boys night then, huh?" he said lightly. Ken shook his blond head, taking Allan by surprise.
"Nah," Ken said, "I had boys night every night when I made the patriarchy."
"Oh, that's right." Allan grimaced at the memory of dozens of Kens hollering through the halls of this house all night as they played with the dumbest icons of masculinity they could find. Often horse related toys.
"Did you… wanna invite some other Kens over?" Allan offered. Anything to ensure Ken wouldn't fall back into his slump tomorrow morning. But surprisingly Ken shook his head again.
"Nah," he said, "I was thinking it could just be a… Ken and Allan night, tonight." He phrased it almost like a question, and Allan warmed on the inside. He smiled at Ken.
"That sounds perfect."
"Awesome!" Ken pumped his fist in joy, then beamed up at Allan. Allan swallowed nervously.
"...What usually happens now at sleepovers?" Ken asked, genuinely clueless. Allan frowned and looked away.
"I'm… not actually sure. We could watch a movie?" he suggested, looking at the TV which was simply glowing with blank colour, nothing playing on it yet. Ken shrugged, fingers plucking at the back of the couch, not looking at Allan anymore. He suddenly seemed… bashful. Allan blinked at him.
"Usually I end my nights waiting for Barbie to kiss me or not," Ken admitted. Allan raised his eyebrows. "She usually wouldn't kiss me. Actually, she never kissed me. But I offered every night! Just in case. Because I really wanted her to kiss me. So I didn't mind being rejected, because the next day I might impress her so much that she'd change her mind, and I'd try again."
"...Right," Allan said.
"But she never did. And I don't really want to kiss Barbie, anymore. We're just friends now."
"Sure. That's very healthy, Ken. I'm proud of you," Allan encouraged, because yes. Finally Ken might stop sulking!
"I kinda want to kiss someone else now," Ken said, and that grabbed Allan's attention. He stared wide-eyed at Ken. In all his time in Barbieland Allan had never seen anyone but Stereotypical Barbie catch Ken's eye. Which made sense, because they were practically made to be together. Except Barbie didn't love Ken. And Allan was also made for Ken. He was designed to be Ken's 'buddy', but it didn't matter much. Ken always strove so hard to keep Barbie's eyes on him that he never noticed who else was watching. Allan had basically accepted it was his fate to pine after Ken while Ken loved Barbie, but to hear Ken was thinking romantically of somebody else…
Well.
Hm.
"Oh yeah?" he questioned casually, "who is it?" Allan hoped the glint in his wide eyes didn't look as deranged as he momentarily felt. Ken tilted his head.
"You," he said simply. Allan blinked. Ken blinked innocently back, and smiled. Allan's jaw dropped.
"You want to kiss me?" he squeaked. Ken nodded enthusiastically.
"Yeah, so if you don't mind, I'm gonna pucker up now, and you'll have about 20 seconds of that to decide if you wanna kiss me or not," Ken said happily, then true to his word, closed his eyes and leaned in.
Allan. Was. Flabbergasted.
He stared at the picture-perfect image of Ken leaning in towards him, pink lips puckered, blond hair falling perfectly over his forehead, pale eyelashes fluttering long and delicate against his cheeks. Abs toned, prominent, and turned in Allan's direction.
Ken did this every night to Barbie? Without ever giving up? And she never once leaned in?!
She was a stronger woman than Allan.
He swallowed nervously, tilting his head as he studied Ken's placid expression. The light from the fairy lights really set the vibe, while the TV cast Ken into a smooth, otherworldly hue, highlighting his hair and deepening the shadows along his edges. He was beautiful, and he was waiting patiently for Allan to kiss him.
His twenty-ish seconds were nearly up. He could imagine Barbie standing there pleasantly, waiting for Ken to open his eyes and step away from her. If Allan didn't kiss him, would Ken try again the next time they hung out?
Ken's eyelashes fluttered, and Allan's heart shot into his throat. Why shouldn't he kiss Ken? He wanted to. He'd wanted to for a very long time. Sometimes he'd dreamed about kissing Ken just to shut him up. He looked so handsome right now.
Allan reached out and cupped Ken's jaw with hands that only trembled slightly. Ken froze, going completely still in shock and inhaling shallowly. Allan watched intently, but Ken's eyes stayed shut and his pout stayed on. It made Allan want to smile. Ken was warm, and his slight stubble pricked gently against Allan's palms. He smelled like Beach. It was good. Allan guessed he and Ken's outing today could be seen as, like, a first date kind of thing. Who was he to deny Ken a kiss at the end of a date? Besides, even if it wasn't a date, it's not like Barbie herself ever went on actual dates with Ken anyway. He just existed in her presence any chance he got, then leaned in at the end of the night, just like he was doing to Allan now. So really it was Allan's duty to kiss Ken right now, to show him what it was like. He wasn't sure why he was even looking for excuses to kiss Ken—he already knew he was going to.
That thought sealed the deal, and Allan slowly leaned in, gently tugging Ken forward to meet him. When they kissed it was closed-mouth and chaste, just a soft, quick press of lips against each other. But Ken gasped, and his palms flew up to press against the back of Allan's hands where they were cradling Ken's face, and when they pulled apart and his blue eyes opened they were stunned and electric.
"You kissed me," Ken uttered, looking absolutely floored.
"Yeah, I did," Allan laughed nervously. He was still cupping Ken's jaw, but his hands were nudged aside slightly as Ken brought his own fingertips up to lightly brush against his lips. He was staring at Allan, blue eyes deep and dark. Allan swallowed reflexively, breaking the intense eye contact to look where his thumb was brushing against the perfect baby hairs on Ken's neck.
"Do it again?" Ken requested, and when Allan looked back in shock, Ken smiled. It was like the sun breaking through the clouds. Allan couldn't help but smile back, and this time Ken didn’t hover waiting. He leaned in, one hand coming up to cup Allan's cheek and the other snaking around his waist and tugging him closer.
This kiss was softer, deeper. Ken moaned quietly and tilted his head further, parting his lips. Allan slid a hand into Ken's hair and clutched carefully onto the pale, silky strands, making Ken whine. It was a delicious sound, and Allan almost regretted muffling it as he slid his tongue into Ken's mouth, coaxing his into a slick, frenetic tangle. Ken was so excited, his hands roaming up and down Allan's body, delighted by the permission Allan granted each time he arched into his touch.
They ended up with Ken sat firmly on Allan's lap, blankets discarded on the ground beneath them, Ken's arms wrapped around Allan's shoulders and Allan caging him in around the waist. Allan let himself shamelessly feel up Ken's lean back, moaning as Ken reached up to cup his jaw and manoeuvre him into a deeper angle. Ken's plush tongue curled slickly against his in a way that made Allan feel like all his hair was standing on end. They finally broke apart, panting heavily, flushed foreheads pressed together. They stayed pressed entirely together like that for a moment, bringing their heavy synchronised breathing back under control. Allan rubbed soothing circles into Ken's ribs with his thumbs; goosebumps erupted on Ken's heated skin under the feathery touches.
'Wow," Ken gasped into the short space between them. Allan nodded, briefly closing his eyes and focusing on the warm, heavy weight of Ken in his lap. The places where their thighs pressed together made Allan's nerves skitter and sing.
"Yeah," he panted. "Wow."
"So that's what boyfriend-girlfriends do when they stay the night!" Ken exclaimed happily.
"Huh?" Allan huffed, then decided to move past it. Wow, Ken's lips were very pink. Pinker than usual. Very distracting. Allan cleared his throat and rubbed his palms warmly over the tops of Ken's thighs, smiling up at him.
"Allan, does… does this make us boyfriends-boyfriends?" Ken asked, staring up at Allan imploringly with the biggest, glossiest, bluest puppy-dog eyes known to Dolls. Allan felt like his heart was soaring out of his chest, like his body would be light enough to float into the sky if it weren't for the weight of Ken pressing him down. Decades of pining and resignation, and now finally a dream come true for Allan. Allan was finally living his perfect day in Barbieland—he was having a good day.
"Yeah," he said breathlessly, "yeah, we are. If you want to be. I want to be boyfriend-boyfriend with you." Ken lit up from inside, absolutely beaming at Allan, who grinned in exhilaration back. Ken then turned away for a second, twisting his torso so Allan couldn't see his face and pumping his fist in the air.
"Sublime!" Ken whisper-yelled. Allan's lips quirked in amusement when Ken turned back around and resettled in his position on Allan's lap.
"Tomorrow," Ken began, "we shall throw the biggest, bestest, brashest coming out party Barbieland has ever seen. Coming out as a couple, that is. Same-sex relationships and inclinations are nothing out of the ordinary. I can't wait. I'm so excited! I've been really lonely lately Allan, thank you for cheering me up." He swooped in for a quick little kiss that Allan eagerly bestowed, the kiss breaking when Ken's smile grew too big. He was just too delighted by Allan's warm reciprocation.
"Well, we're boyfriend-boyfriend now," Allan said, pressing a kiss to Ken's smooth neck and taking a moment to be grateful for the simple ease of relationships in Barbieland. "You don't have to be lonely anymore."
"I have discovered my sense of independence and will not rely on you to an unhealthy degree, though," Ken swore solemnly. Allan nodded.
"I'm glad you've grown to the place where you can assert that."
"Thanks, I've been doing a lot of introspection lately. I've gone from being Barbie-and-Ken, to just Ken, and now I'm ready to be…"
"Ken-and-Allan?" Allan supplied hopefully. Ken's smile could rival the sun.
"Exactly," he grinned, leaning in for another soft kiss. "Ken-and-Allan."