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cumholland · 5 years ago

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Neighbors Part 2

Chapter Two - Designed for You

(Tom Holland x Reader)

a/n: Thank you so much to everyone who loved the first chapter and asked for a second one! Also thank you again to @2018shawn for helping me come up with the idea and @moonshineholland for proofreading! Chapter 1 here

Summary: After a wrench is thrown into your relationship, will you and Tom be able to handle it or will it force you apart? WC: 9.6k

Warnings: Language, LOTS of smut, angst.

"I knew it!" Hannah screams into the phone. You had finally told her about the Tom situation after mulling over it for a couple of days. Now you were sitting in Tom's sun lounger by the pool. He was out shooting today but you decided to let yourself in to go for a swim and keep Tessa company. The last time you were over Tom had given you a spare key. Invited you to come at any time you pleased. He especially encouraged you to keep Tessa company as he worried about leaving her alone for too long. After taking for her for a walk, Tessa decided it was time for a much needed nap. With her asleep, you decided to catch up on tanning as well as catch up Hannah on your predicament.

"Don't get too excited, nothing has really happened since then." Ever since that steamy make out session with Tom, the two of you hadn't really talked about it. Tom's hands were all over you for the rest of the night traveling up and down your body, his lips all over your neck. You even fell asleep in his arms, not moving from the couch until almost three in the morning. Eventually, Tessa jumped on the couch, waking you both. Tom headed to bed as he needed to prepare for shooting the next day and you spent the rest of the night back home. Since then you had hung out with Tom once, only having dinner and watching a movie. Now, two days after making out with Tom, you weren't quite sure where he stood on the situation. "We haven't really acknowledged it, I guess," you explain to Hannah.

"Wait, so you're saying you had a lust filled night of passion and now you haven't porked his brains out yet?" Hannah never was one to put a filter on what she was thinking, but when it came to your love life she was especially honest.

You get up and pace around the pool, concrete hot against your bare feet. "It wasn't a lust filled night of passion, Hannah," you start. "All we did was make out. Maybe I'm a bad kisser and that's why he hasn't tried to make another move."

"No way!" Hannah exclaims. "Boys are horndogs, they could be kissing a corpse and still be into it."

"Gross," you interrupt. "Tom isn't like any other guys I've met, Han. He's really sweet and caring and he gets totally flustered any time we get flirty." That was a fact. Tom's face could turn red faster than the blink of an eye, as could yours. Neither of you had been particularly proficient when it came to the art of flirting, but you had mastered the art of making eyes at each other from across the room. It felt like both of you were holding back, and you weren't sure when that dam was going to break. You were almost certain it had when you finally kissed, but maybe not after all.

A bark pulls you from your thoughts. Your head whips back to the house and you see Tessa standing at the back door wanting to join you outside. You jog over to the door and let her out. "What is that?" Hannah asks. "Do I hear a dog?"

"It's Tessa." You had told Hannah about the situation with Tom but you had also left out the part about the spare key, meaning you hadn't told her you were at his house at this very moment either.

"Who's Tessa? Am I being replaced as your best friend?" Hannah says sarcastically. Tessa dances around your feet, whining for attention.

"Han, it's Tom's dog, you literally met her when you came over." You pat Tessa on the head before she takes off.

"Oh yeah... I would have remembered her name if she wasn't asleep the whole time I was there!" she pesters.

"She's a dog," you roll your eyes as if Hannah can see you. "Maybe if-"

"Hold the phone, you're at his house?" She interrupts. "Is he there? Are you about to bone? I'm so confused, please explain." Hannah's thoughts often ran a million miles a minute and today was no exception. You didn't mind though, she was just excited that your love life finally had a spark. You'd been hurt in the past and she knew you weren't the most open and willing when it came to dating. It made you happy that she was ecstatic for you, even when she was a little cavalier about it.

"No, he's on set today. I'm just hanging out with Tessa and sunbathing. He gave me a spare key, it isn't a big deal." It wasn't a big deal, really, but you knew Hannah could go on about that one for hours. "I'm just hanging out here until he's back and then maybe I'll try to talk to him about the - uh - incident."

"You mean your tongue down his throat? That incident?" She pesters.

"Yes, that one," you say, rolling your eyes. You settle onto the sun lounger again, just now noticing Tessa digging around in the garden. "Tess! Get out of there, I'm not giving you another bath today."

"I wanna hear whatever details you have after tonight," Hannah insists. "And we need to hang out soon, I miss you."

"I promise, Han, we'll hang out soon." You tuck your phone under the cushion and pull out your sunscreen to apply another layer, but the only thing on your mind is what you want to say to Tom when he's back.

When Tom finally arrives back home it's almost 10 pm. You spent the rest of the afternoon working on homework while Tessa kept herself occupied with a toy. You fed her at dinnertime and made yourself a sandwich. Waiting for Tom made the minutes feel like hours, each one dragging longer than the last. You were antsy for him to come back, but at least the longer it took him to come back, the longer you could put off talking to him about your feelings.

That kiss had left you reeling, even more so than you thought it would. After confessing to Hannah, the scene kept replaying in your head. Every time you forced it out of your mind, that feeling of Tom's hands on your bare skin would pull you back in and you'd be caught up daydreaming about the way his tongue had slid into your mouth. Your hand is gripping your thigh, heat building between your legs just thinking about it. You bury your head in your hands and rub your eyes as if you can rub away the thoughts of Tom in your head. Before you get too caught up again you hear the sound of the garage door opening. Tom's home.

Tessa makes a break for the door and whines until Tom finally opens it. He's got a big bag of takeout in his hands and heads straight for the kitchen, Tessa still sniffing and dancing around his shoes. "I didn't think you'd still be here," he calls over from the island. You make your way from the living room to the kitchen, joining him in the brightly lit room.

"I would've made you dinner if I had known what time you were gonna be back but I wasn't sure." You had texted Tom earlier in the day but he hadn't responded until he was already done on set for the day. By then you had already eaten dinner and you didn't even have time to prep anything for him anyway.

"That's alright love, I was in the mood for shitty takeout anyway." You try to smile but you just scrunch up your mouth instead. All that confidence you had about confronting Tom melts away at the sight of him. He looks a little disheveled, probably just from a long day of work. It seems almost silly now, like bringing up the situation would just annoy him. You decide to bite your tongue and keep it to yourself for now. What's waiting until he has a day off? It wouldn't hurt anything.

Tom looks tired and a little annoyed so you want to be out of his space. "Um, I think I'm just gonna go, I'll let you have some peace and quiet," you say. It was probably nothing, but you wanted to give him his privacy, this was his house after all. "I was just keeping Tessa company anyway."

"You should stay," Tom says abruptly. He doesn't look up from his food, twirling the lo mein around with his fork.

"Are you sure?" You ask, testing the waters. "I don't mind going, I have some homework to do anyway." That was a lie, but if it makes Tom feel better, it made you feel better.

"It was just a long day. The director was really pushing me and I was getting frustrated. It isn't a big deal," Tom explains. He finally looks up at you, the bags under his eyes dark. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to." Tom's eyes are dark and heavy, lids almost swollen. It just now registers that he might've been crying. Frustrated at the very least.

"I know," you say softly, almost whispering. You stop for a minute, looking him up and down. His eyes are trained on his food, his usual cheery demeanor almost entirely absent. He tosses a noodle down and Tessa gobbles it up.

"I'll share my lo mein if you stay," Tom murmurs, finally looking up from his food. You let out a soft chuckle and take a seat next to Tom. He passes over his fork to you and for the first time since he got home, a smile appears on his face. It's a gentle half-smile, but a smile nonetheless. You twirl some noodles onto the fork and bring it to your mouth.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" You ask through a mouthful of noodles.

Tom just shakes his head. "I'd rather hear about what my two girls did today." Tessa's ears perk up at that. She pretends to look to the side away from Tom, pretending like she isn't begging for food.

"Well, it was a pretty relaxed day," you start. "I swam in the pool for a bit and did my homework. Tess tore up another toy." You nod over to the living room, stuffing from the toy littering the ground.

"I'm starting to think you're just using me for my pool," Tom jokes.

"Of course! I don't know what else you thought this was," you joke, hitting his shoulder. "My friend Hannah thinks it's weird, me being at your house all day."

"It is weird," Tom affirms. "It isn't really the most typical of friendships, but I like you, so why not hang out with you instead of being alone? Same goes for Tess, I'm sure she's a lot happier not being alone all day." The statement dances around in your head for a moment. Specifically the word 'friendship' along with 'I like you' storms around in your head. Thomas was good at a lot of things but sending mixed signals was maybe his best talent. "Do you think if I lay on the ground Tess will walk on my back and give me a massage? I'm sore as fuck from stunts today."

"Um," you chuckle, eyebrows scrunched together. "Yeah, I'm not quite sure she's capable of doing that." You let that linger in the air for a moment before blurting out "I could give you a massage, maybe. If you want or whatever?" "Yeah?" He asks, eyes finally meeting yours. "I'll take what I can get."

"Really?" You accidentally blurt. It wasn't like you didn't want to do it but you didn't expect him to actually take you up on it.

"What? Are you too shy?" He cracks. "We've already made out, I hardly think a massage is that scandalous." Your cheeks immediately flush with red, your palms becoming sweaty. This is the first time he's mentioned the make out incident since it happened. He doesn't even look phased as he continues to scarf down the noodles.

"I guess you're right," you hum, fingertips buzzing from the thought of touching Tom. You leave Tom at the island and go back to the living room, Tessa following behind you. You move the coffee table out of the way and set up a blanket and pillow for Tom to lay on.

Tom joins you in the living room, setting his takeout on the coffee table you pushed aside. "Nice set up," he says, examining the space you have laid out. He takes his shirt off and tosses it on to the couch and lays down on the floor on his stomach. Your eyes are like saucers. You had expected this to be a 'through the clothes' kind of massage but you weren't about to ask him to get dressed. You eye him up and down, eyes raking over his back muscles down to the Calvin Klein waistband peeking out from his jeans. Before you even touch him Tessa has gotten up from her bed and is now trying to lick Tom's face off. "Tess!" Tom whines. He gets up and takes her out back, shutting the door so the two of you will be uninterrupted. Tom is back on his stomach so you wordlessly drop to your knees by his side. The tips of your fingers meet his skin, warm and firm. You slowly move your hands up his spine, slowly palming his tense back. You feel him laugh under your hands. "Your hands are so cold, darling," he teases.

"Give it a minute," you say, lightly slapping his back and pretending to hit him. Your hands continue across his shoulders, where he is most tense. Your thumbs dig into the muscle, and Tom moans under you. You dig your thumbs into the same spot again.

"Fuck," he moans again. "You can go harder, I won't break I promise." You weren't exactly trying to be gentle, but it was hard to put your weight into it when you were arched over his side.

"Okay," you start "I just have to...," you trail off as you swing your leg over his waist and you're now straddling him. Tom lets out a soft laugh, but you don't acknowledge it. Now with better leverage, you dig back into his shoulders. Tom's smile is wiped off his face and is replaced with a look of ecstasy as he lets out a long moan.

"Shit," Tom gasps through another moan. "What did you just hit?"

"I guess you have a g-spot in your shoulders." This makes the both of you laugh. You bring your hands down to his shoulder blades and start massaging the muscle that surrounds the area. Tom had some bruising on his back from his stunt work so you didn't want to get too rough with him. Tom moans into the pillow, this time lower and drawn out. "Geez, I hope the neighbors don't hear this, it sounds quite sexual."

"It's better than sex," Tom mutters.

"Oh?"

"Not really, but it's a close second." He turns his head and looks back at you over his shoulder giving you that killer smile. You work your hands lower again, reaching the small of his back. "Am I getting an ass massage too? My glutes are sore from all the running I had to do on set today."

"In your dreams, Holland," you roll your eyes.

"Fine, fine, what about a happy ending?" Tom starts laughing before he can even finish his joke.

"Once again, in your dreams," you tease him, although for a second it crosses your mind that something like that might be in your dreams too. You massage all the way down Tom's back and all the way up to the top again. After about a half hour of massaging Tom, you finally crawl off his back and sit on the floor next to him. Tom's eyes are closed and he's half asleep from the relaxing massage. "Alright, my fingers are about to fall off." Tom slowly flips over onto his back. Your eyes dart to the bulge in his jeans. He isn't totally hard, but he at least has a semi. He doesn't seem to notice or acknowledge it as he rubs his eyes. "What? Only the back side? What about the front?" He teases again.

"You're not getting a happy ending!" You exclaim.

"That isn't even what I meant," Tom says through his grin. "My chest is sore from pull ups and I paid for the full experience!" You shoot him a confused look. "I gave you lo mein, duh."

"Tom, I had like two bites!"

"Yeah! One bite for the back and one for the front!" Tom takes your hand and brings it to his chest.

"Have I told you that you're annoying?" You badger him, caving in to his request. With your hands on his chest, you move your palms in slow circular motions, hands traveling from his chest to his shoulders. You can feel Tom looking at you so you meet his gaze. With Tom facing you everything feels a lot more intimate. You feel every inch of your skin connected to his, the heat radiating from his body to your hands. Tom licks his lips and all you can think about is kissing them again. Before you even know what you're doing you're crawling on top of him and straddling him again. "Um... leverage," is all you can stutter out. Your cheeks are flushed pink but so are Tom's. His eyes travel down your body before slowly grazing back up. Your eyes meet again. Your hands are on his chest, legs around his waist. You're riding him.

Well, sort of. You can feel his bulge pressed against your ass now, straining against his jeans. His hands come up to your waist, taking a firm hold on you. Without a second thought, you bring your face to his, lips crashing again his. Tom captures your bottom lip with his teeth, teasing you before slipping his tongue into your mouth. He traces over your lips before gliding his tongue over yours, flicking against you. Your kisses become needier, filled with lust and desire. Your noses bump together, trying to melt into one another as deep as you can go. Tom pulls your body flush against him, every part of you now rubbing together. Tom's hands explore your back, hands traveling up the back of your shirt. You bring your hands to his face, capturing his strong jaw. Tom consumes you, surrounds you with himself. From his hands on you to his tongue tracing your teeth, you feel yourself falling into him. His breath is warm, spilling into your mouth, his mouth now traveling down your neck. Tom moans against your neck, his guttural groans sending shivers down your spine, you can feel yourself getting wet. You gasp, fingers catching in Tom's hair, slowly grinding your body against his. You bring your lips to his about to press them against his again but then...

Both of you hear a whining followed by a bark. Tessa wants back inside. "She'll be fine," Tom says, his lips returning to your neck.

"No, it's fine, we don't make her stay outside. It's not like there aren't other places we can make out," you say as you get off of him, standing up. "Besides, when was the last time you even vacuumed?"

"Not since I moved in," Tom says as you go to the back door to let Tessa in. She trots into the living room, ignoring Tom and going straight for the lo mein, burying her nose in the takeout container. "Tess!" Tom chides her. "No, nasty!" Tom drags her by the collar away from the food. You can't help yourself but giggle at how things went from you on top of Tom to Tessa stealing his food. "Go on, go put yourself in timeout!" Tessa's head hangs as she slowly walks up the stairs.

"Aw, c'mon Tom she just wanted a bite! Plus you deserve it, you locked her outside."

"Whatever," Tom says as he rolls his eyes, taking his food to the trash can to throw away. Finally, with a moment to breathe, you check your phone. It's nearing midnight and you have some work to get done tomorrow.

"I should probably get going, I have to be up in the morning and it's getting a bit late." Tom looks at you with those puppy dog eyes that he has perfected but all he does is nod. He walks you to the door and gives you a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" He asks.

"Yeah, sure," you smile at him before returning the kiss, this time on his lips. "See you tomorrow, Tom."

The next day it was around 7:30 pm and the sun was already beginning to set. After a long day of working from your computer, you were ready to throw in the towel. After taking a bath, you decide to text Tom and ask if he is almost home from set. It isn't until 9:00 pm when he finally responds. Just got home. Come over. Without a second thought, you get dressed and walk over to his house. As soon as your knuckles meet the dark wood of his front door, it opens to Tom's face, brightly lit with a smile. "Miss me?" Tessa comes running out the front door and sniffing at your feet.

"Tessa clearly missed me," you say, flashing a smile back at Tom.

"I missed you more," he says as he moved out of the doorframe and motions for you to come in.

"Were things easier on set today?" After how run down he looked the other day, you were hoping he was still feeling okay after another long day.

"Not too bad. Nothing a genius like me can't handle," he says as he ruffles his hair.

"I guess that explains why your head is so big."

"What!" Tom shouts, cocking his head at you. Tom grabs you around the shoulders and starts messing up your hair.

"I'm kidding, you dork!" You tell him, grabbing a hold of his arm, all too aware of the muscles underneath his soft skin. Tom releases you from his strong grasp. "Your head is perfectly average sized."

"Thank you!"

"Your ego on the other hand," you start. Tom's eyes widen again, ready to lunge at you. "Kidding again!"

"You better be," he jokes, pulling you in close again. This time his hands are wrapped around your waist, head tilted over yours. He brings his face to yours, closing the distance, lips meeting again. So this is what you were now? Intimate. More than friends. Nothing was set in stone, making you all the more nervous. You move your lips against his, falling into his kiss once again. Once you pull away you smile at him, but Tom can tell there's something off about the look on your face. "Is everything okay?" He asks, hands falling off your waist.

"I just... um," you start, shaking your head. "I hate to sound so cliche but what are we?"

"Friends?" Tom says, a confused look on his face. You return the confused look back.

"Just friends?" "Well, um, special friends," Tom clarifies. Clarifies in a way that clarities absolutely nothing. You take a step away from him.

"What does that mean exactly?" You look deep in to Tom's eyes. It's hard to tell what he's thinking.

He's wearing his glasses today making him look cute as ever. His hands are pulled tight by his sides, clearly showing he's a little on edge. "I guess I don't know exactly." Tom leans against the counter, putting a little more space between the two of you. "I just...," Tom trails off. "I can't really be in a relationship right now."

"What? Why?" You demand, the edge in your voice all too clear. You don't mean to sound pushy or even sound angry, but having your emotions toyed with is something you've never put up with. Knowing your worth has always been important to you and you didn't like to play games. You and Tom had been flirty from the start, so there was obviously something between you. In a matter of seconds, every interaction you've had with Tom flies through your head, analyzing everything from mixed signals, missed opportunities, to your especially erotic massage make out session last night. Had you missed something? What weren't you getting? What wasn't Tom getting?

Tom's mouth hangs open for a second as he tries to articulate what he's thinking. The seconds stretch out in front of you, feeling like years. "I'm not gonna be here forever," he starts. "I'm constantly going back and forth between places. In two months, once I'm done with this shoot, I'll be back in London for who knows how long." You feel the ground start shifting under you as Tom talks. Tom, the guy you had been slowly developing feelings for no matter how hard you tried not too. Tom, the guy who was jaw droppingly gorgeous and the sweetest gentleman you've ever met. Tom, the guy who didn't want to date you.

You try to muster up a response but you have no idea what to say. Now it's your turn for your mouth to hang up. "I guess I don't know what to say." "You don't have to say anything," Tom says, closing the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you again. "Why do we even need to have a label on it? Why can't we just enjoy each other's company? I've loved spending time with you and I don't want that to change."

"But...," you start.

"But I just can't have a relationship right now, love." Tom places a kiss on your forehead. I have to be a million places all over the world as soon as press for my next movie starts. It would just make it harder on both of us and I can't do that to you. I can't promise you something when I know it isn't going to work out." You do your best to suppress rolling your eyes. After all this time of being a total gentleman, now he wants to be a fuckboy like every other guy in California? Hannah would definitely be hearing about this later.

"Sure," you say bluntly. You were irritated and you just wanted the conversation to be over. If Tom didn't want a girlfriend then fine, you wouldn't push the envelope, but you wouldn't let him play with your emotions either.

"Please, don't be mad at me-"

"I'm not," you interrupt. "I guess I'm just disappointed. Let's just drop it." You cross your arms and lean against the counter.

Tom crosses his arms too and stays silent for a moment. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I can't lead you on I couldn't keep that from you."

"It's fine," you reiterate. "It's whatever. I'm glad you told me." You really were glad he told he told you. Glad you could keep yourself from getting more hung up on him. You uncross your arms to keep yourself from looking too upset. "So what's the plan? Are you making me dinner or do I have to do everything around here?" There was a stillness and a comfort around you. Without worrying about a potential relationship you could just enjoy yourself, right?

Tom cracks a small smile of that, breaking through the troubled look on his face. "How about I buy you takeout instead." You jokingly roll your eyes, making fun of his inability to cook.

Friends. There was nothing wrong with friends. Watching Tom as he grabbed his phone to order food, you thought to yourself that there were plenty more fish in the sea.

"I don't think I'm understanding," Hannah ranted. You texted her as soon as you got back from Tom's and she immediately made plans to come over the next day. Now the two of you were laying in your room listening to music as you so often did before you started spending so much time at Tom's house.

You pull your blanket over your head, groaning into the soft covers. "I don't even know why I got so invested. I'm sorry I haven't been around as much, I shouldn't have let trying to get with Tom take up so much of my time."

"Don't say that!" Hannah asserts. "You're still in desperate need of dick and it doesn't always just come to you, you have to put in work for it sometimes!"

"But I didn't even get any!" You whine. "Besides that wasn't what I was going for! Haven't you ever heard of happily ever after?" "My happily ever after includes me getting good dick." While Hannah is talking you get up from your bed and go over to your bay window, sitting down on the cushions. "His dick isn't even off the table either, hun. I know it isn't exactly what you were hoping for but you don't have to go back to the nunnery just yet." "I think that's called a convent," you tease. Hannah always knew how to make you smile even when you were feeling down. Hannah sits up from the bed and joins you at the window. You look over at Tom's backyard to see him coming outside with a towel, about to go for a swim. "Listen, boys change up like the weather all the time. They never know what they want and they're always changing their minds. It doesn't matter if you and Tom aren't destined to be together, just have some fun." Hannah grabs your hands, pulling you close. "I know you're never satisfied with guys and they're always letting you down, but you've been the happiest hanging out with Tom than you have been in a while. You don't have to totally cut him out just because he's a little bit of a douche. We already knew that hun, he's a guy they're all dicks."

You let out a soft laugh and nod. Hannah had a point. She always did, she was too smart for her own good. "I'm not gonna tell you you're right because you already know you are."

"Of course I'm right, babes," Hannah says as she hugs you. "Have some fun, let loose! You practically wet yourself when you made out with him. It's up to you, hun, do whatever you want. Do you know what you want?"

You look out to Tom's yard and watch as he dives headfirst into the pool. Dating Tom might not be in your future, but there was obviously something between you. Did you know what you wanted?

You took a few days to yourself to think about your situation. Tom had been texting you but your responses were inconsistent and sporadic. He asked you to come over more than once but you told him you were busy or had plans with Hannah, which wasn't technically lying as Hannah had come over for a few nights to watch movies. Now, it was the weekend and you had spent most of the day laying in bed. Tom was at work but you had texted him and asked to come over later. He replied almost instantly with an absolutely. Tom didn't seem to be upset with you even though you pulled had a bit of a disappearing act. He could probably imagine how confused you had been over the past few days. But you weren't confused anymore. Tom was just a boy and you were just a girl. And you were just a girl wanting to let loose.

You found yourself in Tom's living room once more. Tom was on one side of the couch and you were on the other. It had felt a bit awkward since you had come over, but the conversation had been flowing as usual. You had fallen back into your typical poking fun at each other banter and Tom had put on some shitty horror movie. "Why do you always have to put on shitty movies like this, why can't we watch a good one?"

"Well if it's a shitty movie then we can make fun of it. We always end up talking over it anyway," he explains.

"Then why don't you put on music or something, dummy," you tease.

"Fine!" Tom caves in. He turns off the movie and pulls up Spotify on the TV, turning on one of his playlists. "Alright missy, you got your wish, now what do you want to talk about."

"First we can talk about how Chris Evans is so much hotter than you," you joke. Tom tosses a pillow at your face but you smack it out of the way before it hits you. "I'm kidding Mr. Holland, you're the hottest superhero."

"Damn right," Tom says, smile proud on his face. You roll your eyes at that.

Would now be a good time to ask him? runs through your head. You've thought about it for days now, so why pussy out? It's just a few simple words. "Tom, I...," you trailed off.

"Huh?"

"I, um... ," you started again. "Um, do you have any snacks?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Tom says as he got up from the couch. He disappeared into the kitchen to grab whatever the fuck he thought you wanted. Shit was all you could think. You always froze up at the last second, always too scared to shoot your shot. After a minute, Tom came back with an assortment of snacks. He dropped the pile of snacks on the couch next to you and took a seat on the other side. "Plenty?" Tom asks as he digs his hand into a bag of chips.

"Yeah," you start again. "Actually, um, I meant to ask about the other day." Tom looks up from his chips, mouth full and his loud crunching distracting you. He doesn't interrupt, just keeps looking at you. "About the relationship thing..."

"Hun, I-"

"You're not looking for a relationship," you interrupt him. "That's fine, I know, but... why don't we just... have fun then?" Tom studies your face for a minute. His eyebrows are scrunched together and the look of confusion takes over his face.

"I'm sorry," he starts. "What exactly are you asking?"

Hannah's words fly through your head: just have fun. "Fun, like I said," you say, looking him in the eyes, his tight knit eyebrows slowly coming undone. "No strings attached."

"Friends with benefits?" Tom asks.

"Exactly," you explain. "You don't want a relationship and I don't want to get my feelings hurt. But that doesn't mean I'm not still... attracted to you." Tom keeps his eyes trained on you, watching you as he chews on his bottom lip. "You can say no, I'm just thinking out loud."

"Are you sure?" He asks. You weren't fully sure of yourself, but these days you often weren't. The world kept going even when you were standing still, so what was the point in waiting around to question yourself any longer?

"Yes," you blurt. "We have a good thing going for us already, I mean. And we're both adults with needs so... why not?" The silence hangs in the air for another moment, the atmosphere in the room warm and still. Your hands are clammy and your face is definitely on fire. You weren't often bold like this and it was a new sensation to you.

"Well then... why not?" Tom finally says. "I mean, I'm not exactly sure how to go about this I guess."

You weren't exactly sure how this would go either. Or even how it would start. "We can just let things happen organically and see what happens."

Tom nodded, tossing the bag of chips aside. "So we can make out now?" He looked like an eager kid in a candy store.

You laughed at him and rolled your eyes. "I said organically, Thomas."

After talking to Tom about the new aspects of your friendship, you decided to turn the shitty horror movie back on to fill the silence while you retreated into your thoughts. It was hard to tell what Tom was thinking and it made you more nervous that he might be thinking this was a bad idea. He seemed excited enough, but your doubts had a way of getting the better of you. You were so shrouded in your thoughts you hadn't even noticed the movie was over. "Not as shitty as the last one but still pretty shitty," Tom commented.

"I get to pick the movie next time," you declared.

Tom laid down on the couch, using your lap as a pillow. "My taste is immaculate, don't be jealous." You rolled your eyes at that one. "Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?"

"I think so. Every night before I go to bed you tell me I'm gorgeous and the most important woman in the world," you pester him.

"No, that's Tess," he says laughing.

"Whatever," you roll your eyes.

"You are gorgeous though," he says again. "I know I've put you in a complicated situation and all, but you're the fittest girl I've ever met. You're stunning and you're way smarter than me."

"Clearly," you tease him again.

"And I'm not just complimenting you to get in your pants, I really mean it," Tom says. "I just... are you really sure about this?" Tom looks into your eyes. His eyes are soft in gentle. Everything about him is soft and gentle. He's so sweet and compassionate and caring that you start to feel your doubts melt away. Maybe you weren't making the right decision, but it was a decision that still made you happy. You push him off your lap and force him to sit up. Before he can say anything else, you press your lips against his. It's softer than your last kiss, this one more gentle and subdued. Your lips move in sync, pushing into one another, slow and passionate like you have all the time in the world. Tom runs his hands through your hair, pulling you into him.

Tom pulls back for a second to look at you. "Is this okay?" He asks, voice heavy with desire. You nod your head and lean back in, lips meeting his again. You deepen this kiss this time, slipping your tongue into his mouth. Tom's breathing is getting heavier by the second as the kiss becomes more intense. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer until he has you in his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck as you straddle him. Your tongue slides against his, teeth clashing as the kiss becomes sloppier. Tom pulls away again, this time his lips shiny and starting to redden from your lips hungrily attacking each other. "Should we take this upstairs?" His voice is low and gruff, saturated with lust. You try your best to formulate words but all you can is nod your head.

Tom leads you up the stairs. He brings you to his bedroom, which you haven't been in since the first night you came to Tom's house. He closes the door behind you and dims the lights, giving the room a soft, sensual glow. Tom backs you up against the edge of the bed and you let yourself fall back onto it. Tom crawls on top of you, kissing up your neck as he comes back to your lips.

Your hands find their way under his shirt, slowly traveling up his back. Tom breaks to kiss to take his shirt off, pulling it over his head. You watch as his abdomen muscles ripple as he moves before his mouth is all over yours again. You can already feel the heat building between your legs, the wetness forming as your desire for Tom burns like a wildfire. He kisses back down your neck to your collarbone until his lips meet the fabric of your shirt. "Can I take it off you?" He asks, looking up at you. His puppy dog eyes now taking a different form, something more raw and needy.

You sit up as Tom grabs the hem of your shirt, pulling it over top of your head. "I don't think I've ever told you how great your tits are," Tom teases.

"Shut up," you laugh, shaking your head at him. You unclasp your bra, letting it slide off your shoulders. Tom's mouth practically gapes at the sight of your bare breasts.

"Wow," is all he can muster. You giggle at him as you back your way to the top of the bed, Tom following right behind you. With you on your back, he crawls between your legs, wrapping them around his waist. He slowly grinds his body against yours and you can feel his erection through his sweatpants. You palm his bulge, feeling the harness through the fabric. Tom moans into your mouth as his tongue meets yours again, warm breaths exchanged between you. Tom begins to slide down, his bare skin against yours as he goes. He kisses a trail down your neck before choosing a spot to slowly lick and caress with his tongue, gently sucking in a way that will be sure to leave a mark. His hands find your breasts, taking a handful and slowly rubbing them and creating friction against your nipples. A gentle moan leaves your lips, giving Tom the green light to let him know that you love what he's doing. After he's satisfied with the mark he's left on your neck he lowers his face to your tits, his tongue finding the nipple. Tom gently begins to suck and graze his teeth of your sensitive nipples, now hard from Tom's work. This time you let out a louder moan, knotting your fingers into Tom's hair as his warm, wet tongue focuses on your erogenous zone. Tom moves to the other side, his tongue lashing at the tender skin, driving you crazy before you're even fully undressed.

"Fuck, Tom," you let out a breathy moan. He looks up at you, nipple in his mouth and lets out a low moan. You bite your lip at the sexy sight of him. While Tom is still working on you, you start to wiggle out of your pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them with one hand. Tom notices you struggling and helps slide them off of you. With his warm mouth gone, the cold air hits your skin where he has left it wet with his tongue.

With your pants gone, you're left only in your underwear, and Tom looks captivated by the sight. "You're so fucking sexy, love," Tom practically moans. He positions his head between your thighs and kisses each one, licking his way back up. His mouth meets the fabric of your panties and he lets out a hot breath that breaks through the thin fabric. By now you're practically soaked from anticipation, desperately aching to feel his tongue on you. Tom hooks his fingers across the fabric, moving it to the side without taking them off. He licks a tantalizing slow strip up your slit, his tongue finding it's way between your slit, enveloping him in your heat. "So fucking wet for me," he moans against you. Tom's mouth feels like heaven against you, his soft lips rubbing against you, his tongue working it's way in and out of you, gliding up and down your slit. Tom grabs your ass, slightly lifting you off the bed to slide your panties down to your ankles. He spreads your legs as far apart as he can before his head finds it's place between your legs again. His lips wrap around your clit, slowly licking against the nub before grazing his teeth against it. You involuntarily gasp for air and moan, throwing your head back against the pillow as your hips buck up against his tongue. You look back down to watch Tom as he gently assaults your clit with his tongue, eyes trained on you. "Keep your eyes on me," Tom murmurs against you.

"O-okay," you manage to get out between moans. It had been a while since a guy had gone down on you but this was already a million times better than you had ever had before. Tom lets out a gentle puff of air onto your sensitive, throbbing clit. You struggle to keep your eyes open, watching Tom as he expertly works every inch of you. Your hand finds it's way to his hair again, your fingers threading through his hair, keeping his head in place. Tom's head is moving up and down now, his tongue traveling over your soaked folds. Tom has one hand on your thigh keeping you spread open as he moves the other one to hover over your clit. As his head moves down further, his thumb takes the place of his tongue, now rubbing your clit in circles.

Tom moans against you again, sending deep vibrations into you that you feel in your core. "You taste so fucking good," he groans.

"Please, fuck, please," you moan. "More." Your hips are slowly bucking in rhythm with his tongue, your juices flowing from how turned on you are. "Fuck," you gasp. "Please... fingers." Tom wordlessly responds. He lifts his head up spitting onto your opening, saliva and your juices dripping from his lips. It's messy and sloppy and probably the hottest thing you've ever seen. Tom uses his spit and your wetness to easily slide his index finger inside you. "Fucking hell," you gasp. You sit up on your elbows to get a better view of Tom as his tongue travels back to your clit, as he buries a second finger inside you. "Tom, fuck!" You cry out. Tom curls his fingers inside you, pumping them in and out, quickly picking up the pace. The faster he goes, the more stars that start to appear in your vision. "Tom, I'm getting close," you warn. You feel your body begin to get warm all over, that pit of pleasure building in your stomach. Tom begins to pick up the pace of his fingering, his tongue lapping aggressively at your clit, swirling around it and gently biting it. "Fuck, fuck!" You scream as your body starts to fall to pieces. You feel your orgasm wash over you, starting in the pit of your stomach and reaching all the way to the tips of your toes and back up. A sob escapes your throat as your toes curl and the orgasm finished wracking through your body. "Holy shit, Tom, where'd you learn to do that?"

"Practice," he says, flashing that cheeky smile at you. Although this time he has your juices drenching his lips and chin. Tom comes up from beneath your legs, planting a wet kiss on your lips. You can taste yourself on his lips but that seems to only turn you on more.

You pull away and give him a devilish grin. "My turn?"

"You're naughty," he teases. "But absolutely," Tom crawls off of you and falls beside you on his back, putting a pillow behind him to prop himself up. His hard on is still raging through his sweatpants, a small patch of precum leaking through the grey fabric. Fuck, his bulge looks big. You run your hand across his bulge, palming at his hard member. Tom hooks his thumbs over his waistband and slides his sweatpants down, cock smacking against his stomach as it jumps out from his underwear. His cock is long and hard, precum dripping from the tip. His cock is red and straining, throbbing from how excited he is. Without hesitation, you grab his cock, slowly pumping the thick meat. You rub your thumb against the head, spreading the precum over it and dragging it down his shaft. "Fuck, baby," Tom moans, head falling back against the headboard. You tease his cock, jerking him off at a tantalizingly slow pace, letting the tension build.

After teasing him with your hand, you bring your mouth down to the head of his cock and flick your tongue against it. Tom lets out a breathy moan and tangles his fingers into your hair, pushing your head down with a bit of force. You take the head into your mouth, tongue finding the sensitive spot under the tip. Tom's cock was already hard but you felt it grow rock hard in your mouth, his pre cum leaking into your mouth now, hot and salty. You bob your head up and down, opening your throat up for him. "Your mouth feels so fucking good," Tom pants, thrusting his hips up into your mouth. You grab his balls, slowly tugging at them and working them around with your fingers until his cock is buried entirely down your throat. Tears escape your eyes but you keep yourself from gagging, pulling off his cock. You lick a stripe up his shaft and back down, taking a second to play with his balls in your mouth, tongue traveling around his sack. You take his cock down into your mouth again and he thrusts up into your throat. Tom pushes you down further onto his cock, fucking your mouth. You gag a couple of times before you get the hang of it, but once you do Tom is thrusting into your throat with ease.

Tom's breathing is heavy and labored as he breaks out into a sweat. He raises up his hand, bringing it down on your ass, causing a loud smack, leaving a red hand print on your ass. "Open your legs for me, baby," he commands. You do as he says and he leans forward so he can reach you, his long fingers finding their way in your slit again. He collects your wetness and brings it to your mouth. You open up for him and taste yourself on him, your tongue dancing around his fingers. You moan onto his fingers before he pushes you back down onto his cock again. He leans forward again, this time his fingers meeting your entrance, sliding into you to the knuckle. He fingers you fast and rough, the sounds of your wetness turning him on even more.

"I can't take it any longer I need to be inside you now," Tom demands, standing up on the bed as you pull off of his cock. "Get on your hands and knees." You do as he says, positioning yourself on the edge of the bed. He gets on his knees, his face in line with your dripping pussy. He buries his face in it, tongue licking it's way through your folds, making you gasp and scream with pleasure.

"Fuck!" You moan, burying your face into his duvet. "Tom, it feels so fucking good!" As you're gasping into the pillow, Tom gets up from his knees and lines the head of his cock up with your entrance, slapping his head against your soaked folds. You bite your lip and push your hips back against him, begging to feel the fullness of his cock inside you.

Tom teases you with his cock, holding your hips in place, making you wait and beg for him to give you what you want. "You want more?" All you can muster is a moan as you push against him harder. He slides the head inside you, slowly opening up your entrance. "So fucking tight."

"Oh, fuuuck!" You cry out, mouth hanging open as he slides another inch inside. He slides in until he's halfway in and you can feel yourself stretching around him, the heat of your tight walls adjusting to his size. "Tom, please," you hiss. "More, please." Tom adheres to your begs, sliding in the rest of his cock with a quick, hard stroke, balls slapping against you. "Ah, fuck, Tom!" You moan, gasps and hisses falling from your mouth. You try to form a sentence, tell him you love it, tell him it feels fucking amazing, tell him his cock is bringing you the most pleasure you've ever felt, but all you can muster is garbled moans and cries.

Tom starts pumping in and out of you, faster and faster, his hips slapping against yours. You can feel his cock throbbing inside you, his rhythm steady and consistent as he fills you up. Tom grabs you by the hair and pulls you up, your bodies flush against each other. He buries his face in your neck, licking and sucking on the mark he already left on you, the skin still sensitive from the earlier assault. Tom's hand travels down to your now easily accessible clit, his index and middle finger rubbing in circles in time with the rhythm of his thrusts. "You're so fucking wet... dripping down my cock," Tom grunts through gritted teeth. "Fucking hell, your pussy was made for me."

Tom pulls out of you and spins you around then pushes you back on the bed. He crawls between your legs and lifts them onto his shoulders, centering his cock with your entrancing and sliding his entire length back into with a resounding thrust. "Fuck!" You cry out, grabbing hold of his arms, feeling the veins that wrap around his muscles under the soft skin. Tom immediately picks the pace back up, the bed squeaking and shaking from the ferocity of his fucking.

"Play with yourself, I wanna see you touch your clit while I'm fucking you," Tom orders. Your hand flies down to your clit, fingers toying with yourself. It feels even better with him inside you, every thrust sending a shockwave to your core.

You throw your head back, letting your body succumb to the pleasure. "Tom! Fuck I can't...," you trail off. You try to warn Tom that he's getting you close, bringing you closer to the edge with every thrust, but the pleasure has left you unable to form words. Tom brings your legs down from his shoulders and wraps them around his waist. Tom lays his body across yours, bare skin rubbing against bare skin, gliding over the other from sweat. Tom wraps one arm behind your head, bringing your face together, lips meeting as he buries his cock deep inside you, the head rubbing against your sweet spot as he slowly grinds his hips against yours, hitting that spot deep inside you over and over. "Tom!" You moan into his mouth. You feel the pressure building in your stomach each time he buries himself deeper. You grab his hand from your waist and push it to your clit, begging him to give you your release. Tom gets the memo and starts to rub your clit in circles with the rough pad of his thumb.

"Such a dirty girl for me," he moans into your mouth. You feel your body start to convulse. You grab on to his shoulders, your walls closing in around him. Tom picks up the pace of his thrusting, burying his cock as deep inside you as he can, working on your clit harder, collecting your wetness on his fingers to use on your clit.

"Tom," you gasp. "Fuck, don't stop!" Your hips buck and your legs shake, Tom hitting your sweet spot as you feel the pressure release. The pleasure washes over you, your mouth hanging open as guttural moans escape your mouth. You close your eyes, stars swirling around your vision as you feel your orgasm reaching it's peak. Tom knows what he's doing to you and he's loving every second, feeling your walls tighten on his cock, feeling your body shake in his hands as he pushes you over the point of no return. You buck your hips onto his cock, riding out the waves of your orgasm as you start coming down.

Tom gives you a few more thrusts before he grunts in your ear, his thrusts becoming short and hard as his body tenses up. He lets out a final groan before his pulsing cock begins to spurt his ribbons of cum inside you, holding your hips steady as he realizes inside you. "Fuck!" He grunts through gritted teeth. "Fucking hell," he moans, pumping inside you, his spent cock throbbing and twitching, fucking the cum out of you, letting it drip from your opening. Tom's mouth meets yours again, tongues intertwining as you pant and moan into each other's mouths, hardly able to move from how spent the both of you are.

Breathing heavy, the air hot and sticky, Tom is the first to break the post-orgasm silence. "I can't even remember the last time I came that hard," he smiles, breaking out into a laugh.

You bury your head into your hands, hiding your face from him. "So we really did that, huh?" You peek out through your fingers to see him flash that cheeky grin at you. You start laughing and shaking your head. "Such a dork."

"A dork who made you cum harder than you ever have before," he teases, leaving one final kiss to your neck. You roll your eyes at that, even though it was the truth.

Tom gets up from the bed to grab a towel from the bathroom. He turns on the shower before coming back, placing a towel beside you. "So," he starts. "Again tomorrow?"

"Obviously," you giggle, flashing him a devilish smile. Oh boy, what had you gotten yourself into?

Taglist: @hollanddolanfangirl @quaksvn @fandom-phaser @hollands-osterfield @evanssgi @happytsholland @lu-morningstar @ilivefortomhholland @quaksonhehe @ninjassassin13 @softholand

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aliferous-ly · 5 years ago

Note

I've never really asked for a drabble before... If it's okay with you, could you do 7 "I almost lost you" and 32 "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified" with Logan and Deceit? I just kinda thought that it had the potential to make some angst with a happy ending. Oh and I only found you recently, but I love the writing that I've seen so far. I always love finding amazing writers. (I'm sorry, I'm a total suck up)

im gonna start this with if you’re on mobile, i am So Sorry

i started this and was like “ha im getting a little carried away” and then went “oh no”

and thank u dear!! that’s v sweet of u awe

summary: Declan is a loud and proud aromantic. Then he realizes why he feels weird, and off, and awkward around his best friend, Logan, and his world starts to crumble.

warnings: f word twice, lying, parent being imprisoned, angst, questioning identity, if there’s anything else lmk!!

It starts, Declan thinks, when Logan smiles.

The situation starts out innocuous -- they’re sitting in Logan’s room, Declan tossing a tennis ball up and catching it unsuccessfully, making a right disaster of Logan’s room with all the objects he keeps knocking to the floor. Logan, naturally, continues doing his homework.

And they’re just -- talking.

Declan likes to think his world should shift on a more momentous occasion, maybe with fireworks, fingers brushing against one another dramatically, Jason Mraz playing in the background.

But it’s the smallest thing. Declan throws the tennis ball up in the middle of his sentence -- “You can’t tell me you hate white pines, they have the softest needles” -- and he misses it on the way down.

So he takes a tennis ball to the face and sits up, sputtering, rubbing at his nose, arm reaching out to snatch it before it rolls too far.

Logan chokes out a laugh, eyes squinty and wrinkled at the edges. His laugh fills the room for a few thrilling moments and Declan thinks it’s the most beautiful sound in the world and he can’t stop staring at Logan’s engaging face, in the upturn of his lips and dimples carved in his cheeks.

He’s radiant.

Declan’s heart squeezes, lungs filling with something heavier than air, a foreign feeling washing through his veins. Like rose petals or sunlight. Woodsmoke or freshly fallen snow.

The gears in his chest shift and settle and he feels… right. More right than he’s ever been.

Which is, of course, why fear swiftly follows this gorgeous wash of emotions, because this is unusual and anything unusual is often bad.

Declan forces down the incoming wave of anxiety, schooling his expression into one of smooth disdain.

Just in time, too, because Logan opens his mouth and says, “It was only a matter of time until you paid for your crimes.”

“I’m too pretty to die,” Declan replies, thanking the heavens that while his brain may be steadily turning into mush (have Logan’s eyes always been that striking? Or his shoulders that broad?) his tongue still works.

“Implying Death themself has a type, intriguing,” Logan says. He flashes a look over his computer, the after effects of joy still written on his features. “Bold of you to declare what Death likes.”

Declan tries for a smirk but can feel the way his mouth turns to genuine grin, the traitor. “Aw, Logie, are you saying I’m not everyone’s type?”

“That would be rather ironic, wouldn’t it?” Logan says wryly. He types away at his computer, dutiously finishing an English assignment that Declan is currently ignoring for bigger and better things. “The aromantic everyone pines over.”

That strikes an odd chord in Declan’s chest, like he’s a half-tone off; not quite wrong, but not quite right, either. His expression must change, because Logan pauses in his typing. He blinks at Declan. “Something wrong?”

Of course, that’s when Declan’s brain decides that those words are simply too much, too much, his shoulders tightening, back tensing. It’s like his rib cage is squeezing his vital organs, which seems rather counterintuitive. He hates this unknown, this awkward buzz against his skin, the prickling feeling through his bones.

The resounding crash of everything happening all at once is overwhelming and Declan can’t seem to decide whether to sit as still as humanly possible or bolt.

Or, of course, do what he does best.

Lie.

“I forgot to do something for my mom,” Declan says, barely registering the words before they fall from his lips. He hasn’t lied to Logan in a very, very long time (he knows it’s because they have been best friends for ages, but his mind twists it into something of a foreshadow, even though it’s not, it’s not) and the resurgence of his bad habits leaves a nasty taste in his mouth, but. Desperate times. Desperate measures.

“Oh,” Logan says, disappointed, and Declan longs to explain -- what?

He angrily shoves the emotions deep into his chest. If he can’t explain them, he’s not going to give them the right of control over his actions.

(He ignores the prevalent fact that he has just lied to his best friend in order to escape his presence, but denial, evidently, is not just a river in Egypt).

“Sorry,” Declan spits out, meaning so much more than it seems. He stands, grabs his backpack, shoving papers and folders into it haphazardly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Logan calls out hollowly. Declan takes that as his leave and he slips out Logan’s bedroom door, backpack in tow, keys clicking in his pocket.

Something deep inside him aches. But he doesn’t know why.

Frustrated, Declan gets into his car and slams the door shut, fingers white-knuckled against the steering wheel. He takes a breath. He’s fine, he’s fine. He’s probably just sick, or something.

Or something.

Not for the first time, Declan longs for a working aux connection.

Because flicking through radio stations does not help.

Lewis Capaldi croons Someone you loved on one, Sam Smith singing Dancing with a Stranger. He woefully flips through two channels on commercial break, groaning when the last one has Adele, which, really?

He remembers Virgil’s favorite station, and turns up the volume to forty, My Chemical Romance’s Mama screaming from his speakers. He pulls into his driveway with Hallelujah by Panic! at the Disco blowing his ears out when he remembers that Logan once spent hours rambling about Brenden Urie and a conspiracy about curses and he slams his palms on his steering wheel, furious.

Can he not escape Logan for a moment?

As Declan slams the car door shut, throwing his backpack over his shoulders, and freezes at the sight of the stupid Beware, dog sign that Logan had vandelized to read Beware, snake, he realizes that no, he really can’t. Because Logan is his best friend, his favorite person, and his life is irreversibly intertwined with Logan unless he up and leaves with absolutely nothing, starting from scratch. Which would be worse than death.

He trudges up the stairs like a funeral dirge and when his door shuts with a click he leans against it, steadily sliding down until his knees almost touch his chin.

“Fuck,” Declan says out loud, unable to keep the emotion termoil inside like it should be.

His phone buzzes where it fell from his hands, angry against the carpet. Declan sighs. Rubs a hand down his face. And picks up the phone.

There’s one text from Logan that reads, “are you okay? I’m not irritated but you left rather…”

Well. The beginning reads as such. Declan assumes there’s more, but he’s unwilling to open it for the time being.

Then he has three from Virgil, two of which reference an obscure meme video and the third which reads “r u home i wanna play dark souls on ur ps4”.

And there’s a text from Patton asking if he wants normal chocolate chips or mint ones, and a followup that proclaims “never mind i got both! :3c”.

He sends a quick “no” back to Virgil and merely opens the texts from Patton, leaving only Logan’s unopened. I’m not irritated but you left rather… suddenly?

A strange emotion flutters about Declan’s chest and he groans. He doesn’t feel this way about his other friends, not even Virgil, who he’s known for ages and has gone through four too many devastating arguments to not be close with. Nor does he feel like this with Patton, his brother. Those bonds are, he’s certain, platonic--

Declan lurches forwards with a gasp, the realization bowling him over and leaving him breathless. He curls his fingers into the carpet, focusing on the texture instead of the immediate swirl of panic.

He -- does he have a crush on Logan? Him, Declan, the aromantic king, who once boasted the world could never produce a human Declan could fall in love with?

And it doesn’t track with him falling for Logan either because Declan would have loved him months earlier, suddenly falling in love with someone he’s loved platonically… it just doesn’t make sense. Declan can’t wrap his mind around it.

Maybe he’s just reading the emotions wrong. How can he -- what can he do that -- which --

What would Logan do?

An experiment, Declan’s mind supplies helpfully, so, well. Declan pressed his back against the wood of his door and thinks.

Hypothesis: he’s in love with Logan.

In love? A very rational part of his brain yells. You were talking about a crush before!

So Declan thinks, and revises. Hypothesis: he’s feeling romantic attraction to Logan.

Then he takes a few minutes trying to remember the following step in the scientific method and ends up looking it up on his phone, and it’s really long so he’s just going to cut some corners.

Procedure:

Well, Declan can’t think of any way to do this physically without making an entire fool of himself, so he changes the experiment into a thought experiment.

Procedure: Consider emotions of other relationships and compare to feelings for Logan.

Okay. Declan settles. He considers. He tries to imagine holding hands with Virgil and giving him flowers, but he can’t really picture giving Logan flowers either, so if it’s weird for both -- but he wants to hold Logan’s hand, not Virgil’s, and sometimes Patton’s, and Patton is his brother, he knows for sure his emotions are strictly platonic. So if Patton is the control group, the certainty of platonic emotions, Virgil is the one with normal emotions, and Logan has some weird emotions, so if Virgil and Logan’s are merely two different shades of friendship then Declan will know.

Declan closes his eyes and imagines kissing Logan, because that’s what romantic partners do, right? He imagines stepping closer to him until there’s inches of space between them.. Declan thinks about leaning in, brushing lips before pressing in, heat curling in his chest and oh god, oh god Declan’s face is on fire.

His eyes shoot open and he can only imagine how panicked he must look right now. He presses his hand against his chest, taking deep breaths. Then, reluctantly, he thinks about kissing Virgil -- nope, nope, eugh he physically shakes his head, gut rolling uncomfortably.

So that is a big contender for Declan has romantic feelings for Logan.

He sighs and clunks his head against the door. This sucks. Declan hates feelings.

The door downstairs sounds, opening and closing, followed by a resounding, “HEY, CICI, LOVE YOU!”

Dee sighs, a smile flickering across his face. He pushes to his feet and exits his room, wandering downstairs, aloof.

“Hey Pat,” he says, leaning against a wall.

“Ci, I’m making lots of cookies!” Patton declares, beaming at him, and Declan’s heart drops.

His expression must, too, because Patton’s features are suddenly painted in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I should be asking you that,” Declan says, and he feels bad, unexpectedly, for not replying to Patton’s text earlier. “Lots of cookies? With mint and chocolate chips? Enough to feed an army?”

Patton’s arms wilt and Declan reads the tremor in his shoulders, the glisten of his eyes. Patton tries for a smile and misses by a mile.

Declan crosses to where Patton stands in five steps, wrapping his arms around his smaller brother, pressing his cheek against Patton’s head. “What’s wrong?”

Patton takes a shuddering breath, returning the hug. “Nothing, really. I’m glad you’re home.”

“Ah,” Declan says. He tightens his grip on Patton. “Do you want help?”

“No.” Patton presses his face into Declan’s chest. He’s shaking, ever so slightly. “Can you talk with me at the counter, though?”

“Of course,” Declan agrees, mentally side-tabling his emotional turmoil.

“Okay,” Patton says. He’s quiet for a few more moments, then says, “And Steven Universe later?”

“Anything,” Declan says. He makes a face. The word had slipped out unbidden, but Patton doesn’t tease him for it.

“Alright.” Patton pulls away, takes a breath. “I’m about to make the best damn cookies the world has ever seen.”

“Damn straight,” Declan says, grinning. Patton pauses for just one moment more before moving to the kitchen, dropping various ingredients onto the counter and moving smoothly to gather more.

Declan wonders at his influence on Patton’s vulgar mouth, then shrugs. Patton’s a teenager. He can do what he wants.

“Weren’t you hanging out with Logan?” Patton asks conversationally. He’s pulling down bowls and sugar, obviously expecting easy small talk. And normally Logan is easy for Declan to talk about. He talks about him all the time.

So when Declan winces, Patton turns and addresses him with full attention, brows furrowed. “What? What happened?”

“I…” Declan considers for a moment to just lie about it but dismisses the thought. This is Patton. “I think I have a romantic attraction for him.”

Saying it out loud only cements the certainty in Declan’s chest. No, he hasn’t quite completed the experiment, but he just… knows.

The knowledge is both relieves and spikes his anxiety about the whole situation.

“Oh,” Patton says, eyes wide. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Declan says honestly.

“Alright,” Patton says. He turns back around and a wave of affection flows through Declan. “How did Roman do on his audition?”

Declan hums, eternally grateful for Patton’s ability to turn the conversation away. They talk about Roman’s skill as an actor for a few minutes, jumping to Patton’s involvement in VEX robotics (focusing on the robotics instead of the people) and they kill about forty minutes with Patton talking about his baby bot, Pat Jr.

When the clock strikes seven, Declan throws together two grilled cheese sandwiches and they eat in front of Steven Universe and the gems, Declan stretched out along the couch and Patton creating a throne of blankets for himself.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” Patton murmurs, eyes never straying from the bursts of pastel on the screen, “but if you do have a romantic attraction to Logan it’s okay. You weren’t wrong in saying you’re aromantic. Because that fits you, you like it. There’s just more strings attached than you originally thought.”

Declan blinks, the smallest smile growing on his face. “Thanks, Pat.”

Patton hugs a pillow, eyes bright. “Love you, Ci.”

Declan pushes his foot against Patton’s blanket pile in response.

“Do you think we have to move?” Patton says, three hours into their movie night.

Declan breathes, slowly inhaling as if it gives him an excuse to not reply. “I didn’t. I don’t want to. But probably.”

“That’s why you haven’t told anyone,” Patton says. He shifts, turning to look at Declan. Declan maintains eye contact with the screen, despite having seen this movie countless times. “And why you told me to keep it under wraps.”

“Yes,” Declan says, because really, he lies to the world, but he doesn’t lie to Patton.

He tries not to lie to Patton.

“But something changed yesterday.” Patton’s not asking questions. Somehow, he just knows, despite being left out of the loop. “And you were going to tell Logan today.”

“Yes,” Declan says. Static thrums through his veins. Aladdin ignores a buzzing genie on screen, swatting him away to benefit his own desires.

“What happened?”

“Mom’s not getting out,” Declan says simply, because that’s it, really. Their mother is not getting out of jail. And with no father, their final hope is their uncle, three states over. Their father’s brother.

Two months away from eighteen, and Declan is forced to concede.

“When?” Patton asks. He’s trembling, but he’s not crying. Declan knows that will come later.

“Because of the legal mixups and leaning on Sasha, two weeks, probably,” Declan says. Sasha is, of course, their next door neighbor, the crazy cat lady of the street who “watches” the boys “all the time”.

“Two weeks,” Patton whispers. There’s a sheen in his eyes. Declan tries not to look but his gaze is like a magnet and Patton stares, stares, stares. “That’s not enough time. That’s not…”

Declan closes his eyes.

He really thought he would win.

He thought he could win.

They only had to last two more months. His deadbeat mom had to last two months and they couldn’t even keep the legal proceedings--

He takes a breath. “Uncle Thomas is nice, at least.”

“I don’t want uncle Thomas,” Patton snaps.

“Well we don’t have a choice, Pat,” Declan bites out, stomach rolling at the words, eyes snapping open.

Patton recoils, hurt flickering behind his eyes, but Declan knows it’s not enough to overpower the fire roaring in Patton’s lungs. “We did, we could have put more savings into mom’s defense, we could have found a place to live before it was our last resort but now we have to tell all our friends that we’re moving hundreds of miles away in two weeks!”

“Mom doesn’t deserve to get out,” Declan spits.

“I don’t CARE.” Patton’s fingers are clenched in fists. He stands. “I don’t care if mom deserves it or not. We deserve to stay.”

“The world doesn’t work like that,” Declan says.

Patton opens his mouth and snaps it shut, obviously restraining himself. A thousand emotions swim behind his eyes. Declan hates every single moment but he doesn’t say a word.

He leaves.

He leaves Declan sitting alone on the couch, watching Patton’s favorite movie. A door slams shut and Declan exhales heavily. They don’t get into fights, it’s just not -- Patton’s normally too upbeat to bother, Patton hates being angry, Declan normally doesn’t -- there’s nothing to get angry about, not in the grand scheme of things. They share easily, they have chaotic conversations, they…

They’re fighting.

Declan buries his head in his hands. He was too hopeful, too caught up on the possibility of the future to notice the sinkhole of reality.

He really thought -- things would work out, Patton has his lucky charm of a personality and Declan works, he works hard, so things should -- Declan’s a senior in high school, halfway through the first semester, he should be worried about grades and school dances and friends and crushes and --

Logan.

Declan curls, releasing something like a sob or maybe a dry heave. Whether or not he’s in love with Logan (most signs point to yes but there’s no way Declan’s addressing that) he still loves Logan, he loves being with him and talking to him and ordering his ice cream before Logan gets there to see the surprised and fond expression cross his face.

Two weeks?

To say goodbye to his best friend?

Before moving, before picking up his entire life and his family (just -- Patton. Just Patton) and going somewhere Else?

Declan doesn’t feel like an adult.

He doesn’t want to be an adult, either.

Even if the world is asking him to be one.

“You’re acting strange,” Logan observes.

Declan shrugs. “I’m always strange.” He takes advantage of shoving fries in his face to avoid expounding.

Logan sighs and puts down his burger. “Declan. Something’s going on.”

Several somethings are going on, actually, but thanks. Declan shrugs again. “Haven’t been getting much sleep.” Which is a true statement. He’s written about ten different ways to tell Logan he’s leaving, nine of which are ripped up in the trash, one of which Declan just burned because he doesn’t want even scraps of that disaster to exist.

Five days to go and Declan still hasn’t told him. Five days. They don’t have many classes together, otherwise Logan would have pieced together the weird treatment from the teachers. Declan wonders if just disappearing into the void is an alright way to go, but a little Patton in his head chastises him for even considering it.

Then again, at this rate…

“Hm,” Logan says. He has a thoughtful look on his face that’s absolutely devastating to Declan’s heart and general health and coherence of thought, let alone considering what’s about to come out of his mouth. “Is there a reason?”

Declan considers, eyes narrowing as he stares at nothing. “I neglect to answer that question.”

“So yes,” Logan says. The words fall from his lips with crushing sorrow. He takes a breath. “Why aren’t you telling me?”

“Telling you what?” Declan says, internally wincing at the hurt flickering through Logan’s eyes.

“Okay,” Logan says instead. He turns back to his food.

They eat the rest of the meal in silence.

Declan watches absentmindedly as Logan attempts to make a tower out of pens and pencils. With the addition of Roman’s copious amounts of colored pens, the tower is quite impressive.

Two days.

(Two Days).

Declan’s all packed. Sorta. Not really. He’s going to skip some classes in the future and pack all at once, throwing everything into the boxes (the empty boxes lining his room), not caring if anything breaks.

He…

He hasn’t told Logan yet.

Or anyone, really, but Logan’s the one that -- the one that matters the most.

Logan did, however, ask him if he was okay three times before leaving him be, because Logan knows that Declan becomes testy if asked the same question consistently.

So basically, as far as Declan can figure, Declan’s a tool. Logan is trying, and Declan is giving him jack shit to work with.

Patton has told all his friends, which means it’s only a matter of time before Logan finds out, right? Patton’s a sophomore, they’re seniors, and the school is large, but it’s also not as big as it seems.

Roman, sitting next to him, hums under his breath as he types. He’s editing his college essay, which Declan would be doing if he had a college essay to edit and also cared enough. The atmosphere is strikingly calm, which leads to an anxious buzzing under Declan’s skin.

Tell him. Just tell him. Just open your mouth and tell him. You’re in a library, he can’t get loud and yell.

Declan wonders if yelling would be better, actually, than wide eyed stares and wounded expressions.

He’s contemplating the merits of writing a letter (absolutely not, he doesn’t know why he’s even considering it) when he spots Patton out of the corner of his eye.

Patton in and of himself does not scare Declan.

The fact that he’s bee-lining for Declan and his friends does make him a bit nervous, though.

“Cici,” Patton hisses. The cutesy play on Declan’s middle name sounds odd in such a harsh tone of voice. He glances at Logan before staring at Declan.

Declan’s starkly aware of Roman and Logan’s attention when he says, “yeah?”

“You told them?” Patton says, and Declan--

Well.

A combination of fear and fury and regret zip through his veins at warp speed.

But Declan’s well trained in the art of deception.

He schools his expression into one of cool indifference. “That I’m taking you for ice cream? Nah. I didn’t think they’d care. You wanna go right now?”

Roman huffs a laugh, turning his attention back to his computer. Logan doesn’t look away, though, hand resting on a bright yellow flair pen.

Patton’s brow furrows. “I mean the--”

“Man, if you were that impatient you could’ve texted me,” Declan interrupts with a long, drawn-out sigh. He stands, swinging his backpack over his shoulders. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Get me some ice cream next time,” Roman says, grinning. His gaze doesn’t leave his screen. “Bye, loser.”

“Bye,” Logan echoes.

Something registers in Declan’s brain-dead skull that Logan sounds lifeless because his best friend has been distant (Declan. Declan is Logan’s best friend).

Declan pauses, sighs. Patton looks outraged and about two seconds from outing Declan.

“I’m sorry,” Declan says. Logan looks up at him. “It’s not your fault. Just… I’m going through some things. You deserve to know. I shouldn’t shadow you without any info.”

Patton looks even angrier, if possible, but then Logan’s talking and Patton hates interrupting people.

“Okay,” Logan says, soft as ever. “I’ll wait for you.”

And if that doesn’t make Declan feel like the nastiest motherfucker.

“Let’s go,” Declan says, pulling Patton along before Patton lets loose.

He opens his mouth, but Declan beats him to it, whispering, “Shh, we’re in a library.”

“I cannot fucking believe you,” Patton hisses instead.

“Language.”

“You haven’t told them?” Patton exclaims. He yanks his wrist from Declan’s grip but continues following him, arms gesturing wildly. “You’re the worst.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Declan mutters.

“You better get me ice cream now,” Patton says, crossing his arms. “After making me watch that.”

“That’s fair,” Declan concedes, and then realizes he’s going to have to spent the next thirty minutes listening to Patton chastise him and --

Honestly, he deserves it, but he doesn’t want it, but before he can say anything, Patton says, “don’t even think about escaping this.”

So he’s stuck listening to Patton chastise him for the next thirty minutes until their next class starts.

But he gets a turtle sundae out of it, so it’s like, at least 20% a win.

“CICI,” Patton screams from the living room.

Declan shoots to his feet, tripping and slamming his knee into the doorframe, scrambling to reach Patton as swiftly as possible. He appears at the edge of the living room, hand pressed against the wall, chest heaving, eyes blown wide. “What? What is it?”

He assesses Patton for damage, but Patton’s standing with his phone clutched between his fingers, shaking ever so slightly but appearing physically fine. He’s staring at Declan, lip trembling.

“Patton?” Declan says.

Patton opens his mouth, tears dripping down his cheeks. He sniffs, making an angry noise in the back of his throat as he wipes at his face. “I shouldn’t tell you! I should let you suffer because you’re mean.”

“Patton,” Declan says, approaching his brother like one might a wild animal.

Patton shakes his head and Declan stops.

“I’m upset!” Patton says. Then he lets out a laugh, choked. “But I’m so relieved.”

Declan doesn’t say anything.

Patton sniffles a few more times, then peeks at Declan through his fingers. Declan tries for a smile, sheepish. Patton smiles back, watery and soft. His shoulders shake as he laughs softly, his phone pressed against his cheek. “I was so scared.”

“Me too,” Declan says.

“I’m sorry,” Patton says, the anger draining from his face and leaving a wide-eyed pile of nerves. “I didn’t mean it. You’re not mean. You’re just scared.”

“It’s okay,” Declan says. His arms hand limply by his sides. He wants to do something with them, to cross his arms or put them in his hoodie pockets or something, but he also wants to leave them available for when Patton wants a hug, so he stands awkwardly instead. “I forgive you.”

“I’ve been calling Uncle Thomas,” Patton says.

Declan’s heart does something funny in his chest.

Patton pulls his hands away from his face, rubbing his cheeks clean, staring at his phone for a few moments before his hand drops, dangling at his side. “He’s -- he said he’s coming here. His job can be done online and the stuff he can’t do online he’ll fly back for which won’t be often, he said it’s important to him that we -- have a support system throughout highschool, and he wants us to finish here before doing anything else.”

The information barely filters through Declan’s mind because when Patton exhales another sob Declan steps forward and envelops him in his arms on instinct. Patton’s legs go weak. Declan sinks to the ground, Patton pressing his face into Declan’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Patton mumbles. “I don’t know why I’m crying. This is good. This is good.”

“Sometimes emotions have a funny way of showing,” Declan says. He runs his fingers through Patton’s hair, untangling the curls. “You’ve been stressed. It’s okay.”

“Why aren’t you crying?” Patton says. He taps his palm against Declan’s chest, reminiscent of a smack without any of the power. “It’s not fair.”

Declan laughs, sort of. “I might later. I don’t know. Emotions are weird.”

“You never told your friends you were moving,” Patton says. “Will they ever find out?”

“Probably,” Declan says. He squeezes Patton. “I know you told your friends. It’s better your way. Even if it doesn’t feel like it.”

“Mm.”

Declan can feel the rise and fall of Patton’s chest. It slows as Patton calms down. “We don’t have to move,” Patton murmurs.

“We don’t have to move,” Declan agrees, and Patton presses even closer.

Declan doesn’t know how he finds his way to the beach but at one point he’s baking Patton cookies and the next he’s sitting on a slab of concrete overlooking the pitch dark waves. He knows Patton is sleeping, or is at least pretending to sleep. He vaguely remembers writing a note in case Patton looks for him.

It’s been three days since Patton discovered Uncle Thomas’s moving plans. Discovered? Convinced? Declan isn’t sure.

And he doesn’t really know how to react. He’s been moving on autopilot, making dinner, doing homework, putting in minimal effort into his friendships so they don’t abandon him on the side of the road --

No. Declan shakes his head. Putting minimal effort into his friendships because his friends don’t deserve to be cut off without a word.

Nothing feels right.

(Something is off).

He hears footsteps and before he can whip around, before fear has the chance to truly take over his body, he hears, “this seat taken?”

“No,” Declan says, and Logan sits next to him on the concrete. They’re quiet for a few moments, watching the reflection of the moon, tasting salt on their tongues.

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” Logan says finally.

Declan closes his eyes, breathes. His emotions are all tangled up in his chest and he doesn’t want to tap into it for fear that if he lets out a little he’ll let out everything.

But Logan deserves to know.

(He deserves someone better.)

“My mom lost,” Declan says, which sounds nicer than it did in his head. “She’s unfit to care for us, anyway, but now she’s officially calling prison her new home.”

Logan’s quiet. Declan listens to his breathing. He spies Logan’s hand against the concrete and longs to close the distance and entangle their fingers, just for a modicum of physical comfort. The slightest hint of warmth permeates the air around Logan and Declan wants to lean closer, to press their arms together.

“My Uncle, on my dad’s side, is taking care of us. He… wasn’t originally going to move here, but Patton talked to him and he decided moving here is the best course of action.” Declan shifts. He doesn’t know how to say it. He doesn’t know how to explain.

Logan stops breathing.

“I almost lost you,” he says, and it’s barely a whisper.

Declan glances at him and can barely comprehend the amount of horror shining in Logan’s eyes. Logan’s staring at him, expression open and terrified. “I almost…” He exhales, shaking. Declan watches him so closely he can see the sticking of his chest as he breathes, the tremor of his shoulders.

Declan’s heart stutters and he wants to tear his gaze away but he owes, he owes Logan this. Even though the only thing he wants to do is run away, to preserve himself. “I -- I never told you,” Declan says, more scared than he has been in a long time. He opens his mouth and stops, shrinking away. He looks over Logan’s shoulder, unable to maintain eye contact. “We were supposed to leave two days ago. I was going to tell you and then…”

Then I found out that I’m in love with you, and it freaked me out so much I closed myself off.

Logan’s truly shaking, and Declan doesn’t know what to do. You caused this. This is your fault.

“Ugh! I’m sorry,” Declan exclaims. He can’t stand this, these tentative moments, fragile as glass. He wants to take a hammer to the whole affair. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not much but I was scared, and it’s not a valid excuse, but I was terrified, Logan, I couldn’t leave you! You mean too much to me!”

“You mean a lot to me too,” Logan says, but Declan’s on a roll, now, there’s no stopping the hurricane in his heart.

He moves his gaze to the waves, finding solace and energy in the constancy. “I was going to tell you when we were hanging out a few weeks ago in your room, and then I freaked out because -- and then I left, and haven’t been able to figure out how to word it since, and Patton’s better than I am, he told his friends almost immediately, imagine, having worse emotional competency than a fifteen year old--”

“Roman found out,” Logan says, grinding Declan’s tangent to a halt. “He mentioned something to me but I needed to hear it from you.”

Declan stares at him.

“I asked Patton if you were at home,” Logan explains. Declan can barely tell in the shadows, but Logan’s face seems to darken. “When he said no, I knew there was one other place you would go. Probably.”

Declan worries his lip. He’s that predictable?

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Logan asks, quiet.

“Because…” Liquid anxiety slogs through his veins. His voice drops, quiet, quieter than the sound of waves. “Because I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified.”

For a second all he can hear is the crash of the sea and his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He doesn’t know why the moon isn’t falling from the sky, why the stars haven’t combusted, because his world feels like it’s falling apart at the seams.

“I discovered that,” Declan continues, the words slipping between his lips before his mind has any say in the matter, “and didn’t know what to do, and then I needed to tell you I was leaving, and I love you, and I couldn’t. Because I’m a coward.”

Another beat. Declan takes a long breath. “I still love you. And I’m no longer leaving.”

“I suppose… now would be a bad time to bring up demiromanticism?” Logan tries.

“It would be a terrible time, but thank you,” Declan says, and he can’t help the small puff of laughter that escapes.

“I love you too,” Logan says, then, and Declan can’t breathe.

He turns to Logan without thinking, searching his sapphire blue eyes for deception even though Logan has never, ever lied to him. He can’t hope, he can’t dare to hope, the world would never give him two miracles. “Don’t trick me.”

“I’m in love with you,” Logan clarifies, nervous. His hands are wringing together and he’s biting his lip.

Declan reaches out, fingers trembling, to brush against Logan’s cheek. “You…”

“I’ve been in love with you,” Logan says. He’s looking down, away from Declan’s gaze, but he leans into his touch. “For awhile. I never wanted to bring it up because… you were so adamant about being separate from romance…”

“I thought I was,” Declan says honestly. “Which is why this is a real fucking trip, let me tell you.”

Logan laughs, and some of the tension in the air dissolves. “I can imagine.”

“God, I love you,” Declan says. He brushes his thumb underneath Logan’s eye.

“I love you too,” Logan says, eyes wide and sparkling, then he moves forward and cradles Declan’s head in his hands and Declan short circuits because he’s right there he’s RIGHT THERE and he’s touching him he loves him he loves him--

“You’re gorgeous,” Logan says, and Declan just stares at him dumbly because his mouth stops working. His heart is barely going, the only reason he’s not dead is because his body has some sort of instinctive survival instinct, or something.

Emotion clog his throat and Declan doesn’t know how he’s not sobbing already so he’s unsurprised when the smallest tear slips out of his eye.

“Oh,” Logan says, wiping the tear away. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s -- it’s not -- it’s not you,” Declan chokes out. “God. This is so embarrassing.”

“I don’t care,” Logan says. He leans closer, pressing their foreheads together and staring into Declan’s eyes. “It’s okay to cry.”

Declan smiles thinly, blinking away tears. “I don’t deserve you.”

Logan stares at him, brows furrowing. “What?”

“You’re so beautiful,” Declan says. His trembling hands hold Logan’s jaw. “And you’re so smart and passionate, and you have the most wicked sense of humor, and you’re my best friend.”

“No,” Logan shakes his head. “I mean, I am your best friend, but there’s no deserve in a relationship. We’re just people. People make mistakes. I make mistakes. Please don’t sell yourself short.”

Declan wants to say that only proves how good Logan truly is, but he settles for a simple, “Okay.”

Logan brushes hair out of Declan’s eyes, then sighs, dropping his head to Declan’s shoulder. Declan’s hands slide down to Logan’s upper back.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Declan says.

“I’m glad you’re here too,” Logan replies, muffled. He pulls away for a split second, eyes blurry and a crease already showing from his glasses pressing into his skin. “But if you withhold life-altering information like that from me again there will be issues.”

“I won’t,” Declan says. He swallows. He hates promises. He hates them, because he never feels like he can maintain them. “I’ll… I’ll try my hardest.”

Logan searches his gaze, nods, and then presses fully into Declan.

“Woah, okay.” Declan shifts as Logan clings to him like a koala bear. Logan’s basically in his lap and Declan, well. Declan has no complaints.

“I can do this as much as I want because we’re in love with each other,” Logan mutters, and wow, if that doesn’t send a thousand vibrations across his skin. In love with each other.

Declan grins. He likes the sound of that.

“You know,” Logan says conversationally. His fingers trail up to press against Declan’s face, outlining his lips. “I love it when you smile.”

Declan hums, his smile broadening. Me too, Logan.

Me too.

#im also posting this on ao3 bc this is a MONSTER #loceit #logan sanders #deceit sanders #patton sanders #brotherly moceit #god the dynamics..... so good #roman sanders #virgil sanders #well virgils mentioned hes not actually in it OOPS sorry virge love u #does the ending make sense?? i hope so #deceit: i also love it when i smile thank u logan #<-- incorrect interpretation yet i love it #did someone order some uhhhhh fluff #willowaudreykeyes

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